★Memorable Author: [Puppet Man] Stories~collected

[uk1012uk]

Stories in this collection:

LITTLE BABY DADDY

MUSCLE GIRL



Another one of my favorate stories for those of you who don't know it.......

                      LITTLE BABY DADDY
                                      by
                               Puppet Man

                          Part 1 - Mona

     I first met my wife, Mona, when I answered an ad for someone
to keep the books for a woman's gymnasium.  I'd been caught in a
downsizing of the finance department at my company and had been
laid off for about six weeks.  With my severance about to run out
and no job prospects in sight, even a part time bookkeeping job
looked pretty good.  Besides, I'd always been fascinated by the
more muscular female bodybuilders, and this looked like an
opportunity to meet some, although I had to wonder what a 5'2",
115 lb., unemployed CPA could do if I met one.
     I found out sooner than I expected.  Mona, the beautiful,
black haired Amazon of a woman who owned and operated the gym,
towered an even 6'7" in her bare feet and weighed 280 lbs. of
massive, solid, shapely muscularity that was clearly defined
through the tight fitting body suit she wore.  Each of her
shoulders were broad enough for me to sit on, and her upper arms
measured at least 20", with biceps that bulged and peaked under
her smooth, satiny skin when she flexed.  Like most bodybuilders,
her breasts were small for her size and firm, but her chest was
an impossibly wide "V" that tapered to a relatively narrow waist
that was rock ribbed with muscle, tightly rounded hips and long,
massively muscled legs that seemed bigger around than my chest.
Standing in front of her gaping up at her giant frame, I felt
more like a small child than a grown man.
     She had asked that I meet her after the gym closed at nine,
and we were alone.  She ushered me into her office at the rear of
the gym.  It was sparsely furnished with a desk, an easy chair
behind it and a couple of straight backed chairs in front, and a
computer table, computer and printer on the side wall.  All of
the furniture was designed more for her size than mine; I literally
had to hoist myself up on one of the chairs in front of her
desk, and, even then, with my feet several inches off the floor,
the desk was almost level with my chest, whereas it only came to
her waist when she seated herself behind it.
     She asked me a few questions about my background and then
showed me her books.  They were a mess, but I could see enough to
know that the gym seemed profitable and was able to outline a
system for straightening them out; she had never learned how to
use her computer, and I told her that, with the appropriate soft-
ware, I could have her finances up and running on system in a few
weeks, after which it would require less than an hour a day to
maintain it.  After we settled on an hourly rate that was enough
for me to pay the rent on my small, furnished efficiency and put
food on the table, I got the job.  As we were leaving I casually
mentioned that, since I didn't own a car, I had taken a bus to
her gym, and she immediately offered to give me a lift home,
which she did in her large station wagon.
     I spent the next three weeks getting her finances on the
computer, working from nine in the morning until after closing to
do so.  Mona could not have been more helpful and gracious an
employer, affectionately providing me everything I needed (in-
cluding a cushion to bring me up high enough to work comfortably
at her computer table), regularly buying me lunch, and periodi-
cally coming up behind my chair as I was working to cover my
shoulders with her huge, shapely hands and ask how I was doing.
Despite the difference in our size, I found myself becoming more
and more attracted to her.  At her insistence, however, I was
required to stay pretty much in the back office, well away from
the gym and the women customers working out there, although
occasionally I couldn't resist the temptation to surreptitiously
sneak a peek.  The sight of those muscular, powerful, almost
naked women was more than enough to get my genes working over-
time.  Mona also had three females on her staff, all attractive,
competitive bodybuilders who dwarfed me and were similarly
dwarfed by Mona.  They rarely came back to the office except when
Mona was away and they weren't working with the customers, and
then I never knew when one of them might slip up behind me and
playfully maul me about.  But it was Mona who really turned me
on; the thought of my small body being cradled in her mighty arms
invariably produced a pulsating erection and flooded my body with
desire for this beautiful, Amazonian giantess.
     Then, on Saturday at the end of the third week, when I was
taking one of my voyeuristic breaks, I suddenly felt a huge hand
slide under my buttocks and another grip my shoulder, lift me
bodily almost two feet into the air and carry me back to the
office.  My penis sprang to life like a coiled spring as I
instinctively tried to struggle against the steel grip on my
buttocks and shoulder.  Looking back, I saw Mona's lovely, larger
than life features, regarding me with mingled annoyance and
amusement.
     "I thought I told you to stay out of sight," she scolded me,
setting me down in my chair.  "As little and cute as you are, I
can't have one of my girls--or even worse, one of my customers--
carrying you off, at least not until you've finished getting my
books in order."
     I have to admit I was a little flustered by being caught in
the act and so easily overpowered by her, not to mention the
clearly visible, pulsating bulge in my pants.  I mumbled a
redfaced apology and then told her that the job was finished.
"I--I've got all your finances, business and personal, on system,"
I stammered.  "I could show you how to maintain it in about
an hour--that is, if you don't want me to do it for you.  And
keeping it up to date shouldn't take more than a half hour or so
a day."
     Her surprised look was genuine.  "Really?  Is the job really
done?"
     "I'm afraid so," I sighed.  "Much as I'd like to keep
working full time, I'd be stealing your money if I did.  You've
been too nice to me for me to pull something like that."  Then,
in a feeble attempt at humor, I added, "So, if one of the girls
in this gym wanted to carry me off, I wouldn't object if you
didn't."
     Her surprised look became heavy lidded.  "Oh?  Have anyone
particular in mind?"
     I felt my face get suddenly very hot, and I realized that I
had opened a door I was not sure I had the courage to walk
through.  I lowered my eyes and muttered, "I--I'm not sure I
should answer that..."
     She pursed her lips, smiling.  "Well, my little bookkeeper,"
she murmured, "in any case, we're going to celebrate.  I'm
closing up early and taking you out to dinner.  And afterward we
will discuss our future relationship.  Give me half an hour to
clear out the place, shower and change into street clothes."
     She was as good as her word.  I had barely finished closing
out the books and shutting down the computer and was putting on
my sport coat and straightening my tie when she opened the door
of the office, towering in the doorway and looking ravishingly
beautiful in a dark suit that hugged every curve of her
magnificently powerful body.  Somehow she looked even bigger and even
more awesome than before, and I thought for a minute it was the
suit until I looked down and saw that she was wearing 5" spike
heels.  I couldn't help but do a double take as I slowly rose to
my feet and found my eyes level with the inverted "V" of her rib
cage which was barely visible under her tight jacket.  And I
began to feel those all too familiar curdlings in my lower body.
     She took me to one of the best restaurants in the area, and,
walking to our table amid the stares that followed us, for the
first time I felt self conscious, like a small tug boat being
guided by the Queen Mary.  But she was marvelous company during
dinner, charming and completely feminine, and as we left the
restaurant I found myself less aware of the difference in our
size.  She drove me to my apartment house and, as she pulled up
in front, informed me that she would see me to my door.  "After
all," she told me, "you are only a man, and a pretty puny one at
that, and this isn't the safest neighborhood in town."
     Her words produced a strange sensation in my stomach, but I
did not object as she took me to my apartment and, as I fumbled
for my key, plucked it from my hand and opened my door.  Then,
before I knew what was happening, she bent over me and, reaching
down behind my back to firmly cup both my buttocks in a single,
huge hand, straightened, lifting me with her until my eyes were
just below her own, stepped inside my apartment and backed the
door closed behind her.  I gasped and instinctively tried to
struggle, but her other hand came up behind my back to grip the
back of my head and force my open mouth up to hers.  Even as my
penis snapped erect against her hard, flat stomach and spasms of
desire coursed through my body, I pushed against her massive
shoulders with both my small hands, but I don't think she even
noticed my efforts, and I finally surrendered to her crushing
embrace, sliding my arms up around her neck and returning her
hungry kiss with an ardor that almost matched her own.
     When at last she released my mouth, she said nothing, but
simply held me tightly against her, looking down at me with
piercing, dark eyes that seemed to burn into mine.  As for me, I
could scarcely believe this was happening, that this towering,
magnificently beautiful Amazon could possibly want such a puny,
insignificant, male body as much as I wanted hers, and I could
only return her gaze with helpless, pleading passion as my small
hands lightly caressed her neck and cheeks.
     She carried me easily over to the couch that also served as
my bed and sat down on it, setting me on the floor in front of
her, between her massive thighs.  Her huge hands stripped me of
my coat, tie and shirt, and then undid my belt and fly and
lowered my trousers and shorts to my ankles, exposing my throb-
bing erection.  I felt the long fingers of a single hand encircle
my naked waist in a firm, gentle grip that reached more than half
way around my slender body and then effortlessly lift me off the
floor so she could remove my shoes and socks and then slide my
trousers and shorts completely off, leaving me naked and defense-
less before her.  Then she released me and stood up, looming high
above me and looking down at me like a giant, female colossus,
as, with almost feverish haste, she removed all her own clothes
except her high heeled pumps, dropping them to the floor on
either side of her.
     It was the first time I had seen her completely nude, and in
those 5" heels the effect was overwhelming!  Her massive, powerful
body seemed carved in dark ivory, every muscle standing out
in bold relief under her smooth, tan skin.  But I had no chance
to admire the view.  Before I could react, her huge hands were on
the back of my neck and my buttocks, and I was lifted bodily off
the floor to be held almost horizontally in front of her while
her open mouth explored my face and torso with passionate kisses
and love bites.  Within seconds I was a helpless, writhing,
moaning mass of raging desire.
     During this entire time neither of us had spoken a word.
Now as, her face flushed with her own desire, she laid me on my
back on the couch and settled over me, straddling my hips with
her massive thighs, I felt sudden concern.  I'm pretty well
endowed for such a small man, but was I was big enough to satisfy
a woman of Mona's titanic proportions?  She must have read the
concern on my face, for, as I opened my mouth, she quickly
covered it with a single hand, cutting off the question before it
could be asked.
     "Shhh!" she whispered hoarsely.  "You're big enough!"       
     Before I could respond, she had settled over me, covering my
body with hers, her 280 lbs. of solid muscle pressing me deep
into the cushions of my couch, my face buried between her firm
breasts and her arms around me, one behind my back and the other
under my hips pressing me up into her.  And then I was inside her
and she was working me, the muscles of her channel enveloping,
caressing and massaging my manhood so tightly I thought I would
explode right then and there, before she was ready.  I needn't
have worried, for she was more than ready!  I heard her gasp and
moan, and then a second and third time as she tightened around me
with a force that would have expelled me from her had she not
been on top of me holding me in place, and then her moan became a
whine of rapture as her womanhood erupted.  Rippling flesh and
muscle assaulted my penis, carrying me with her to a pinnacle of
ecstasy beyond anything I had ever felt before, only to subside,
leaving me limp and exhausted beneath her.
     I wanted to be close to her, to cling to her, but as I
reached up to put my arms around my neck she gently disengaged
them and rose off me.  I closed my eyes, disappointed and
frustrated.  My orgasm had been strong, as strong as any I'd ever
felt, but I still felt cheated.  It had happened so fast!  It had
been over as quickly as it had begun, and I'd wanted more, to be
held and caressed by this magnificent Amazon and to worship every
inch of her glorious, incomparable body with my hands and my
lips.  Instead, when I finally opened my eyes, I saw that she was
almost fully dressed.
     "Not much for foreplay, are you?" I heard myself mumble,
surprised at my own audacity.  "Or afterplay, for that matter."
     Even as the words were uttered, I immediately regretted
them, thinking they might have offended her.  But she smiled and
leaned down to pat my cheek.  "Sorry, baby," she said softly,
"but I've been so hot for that little body of yours for so long--
almost since we first met--that I couldn't wait any longer to get
you inside me.  And now it's late, and we have a lot to do
tomorrow."
     I frowned.  "Tomorrow?  Tomorrow's Sunday.  My work's done,
and you don't open the gym until noon.  What is it that we have
to do?"
     Now fully dressed, she sat down on the edge of the couch and
put a big hand on my chest.  "I'm picking you up here at nine,"
she told me.  "We're going down to the gym early, and you're
going to show me your new system.  If it's everything you say it
is, we're going to have a lot to talk about--and a lot to do."
     "It is.  But I still don't understand..."
     She smiled again.  "You will tomorrow.  Now get some sleep.
I think you're going to need it.  Be waiting for me in front of
your building at nine."
     And then she was gone.


                       

[uk1012uk]

I was waiting outside for her at nine wearing slacks and a
polo shirt, and she was as good as her word, looking ravishingly
beautiful and powerful in shorts and a brief halter that barely
covered her firm, full breasts.  We went down to the gym, and I
spent the next hour walking her through how her computer and the
new bookkeeping system worked and the data that had been entered
and needed to be entered to keep her books up to date, as well as
how to enter it and back it up so it wouldn't be lost if her hard
disk crashed.  I generated balance sheets and P&L's to show her
how well she'd been doing financially, and she was amazed.  All
she'd really known about the business side of the gym was how
much cash was coming in and going out of her bank account.  I
showed her how to use the system to manage and invest her cash to
maximize profits through the new interfaces I'd established via
modem with her bank.  The final cruncher, though, was when I
generated amended federal and state income tax returns for each
of the two years she'd operated the gym, which revealed that
she'd paid over $20,000 too much in taxes.
     "Wow!" she exclaimed.  "Can I get that money back?"
     I grinned.  "Absolutely.  The statute of limitations hasn't
expired yet on your returns.  All you have to do is print out
these returns and the claim form and send them in.  It'll take a
while, and you'll probably be audited, but, fortunately, you have
the records to support your refund."
     She stood up and, before I realized what was happening,
plucked me out of my chair and gave me a hug that bent my ribs.
Then she slipped her hands under my armpits and, with no effort
at all, held me out at arm's length with my feet dangling a good
two feet off the floor.  "That does it, baby!" she told me.  "I'm
taking you back to your place, and you're going to pack up all
your things.  As of today you're moving in with me.  I'll set up
the spare bedroom in my condo as your office and move all my
records and the computer stuff in there.  You'll continue to
handle all my finances and taxes from my condo and take care of
my house as well."
     I gaped at her, stunned.  "W-what?" I stammered.  "Are you
saying you want me to come and LIVE with you?"
     She grinned.  "That's what I just said, baby.  You're going
to be my live-in lover, housekeeper and financial manager.  I'll
take care of you, support you and see that you have everything
you need, including," she added with a sly smile, "more foreplay
and afterplay than you can handle!"
     "Now, wait a minute..." I protested.  Although the idea of
spending every night with this beautiful, Amazonian giantess got
my genes up and running, I was no gigolo and said so.  "Besides,"
I told her, "I'm no housekeeper, and I'm a lousy cook!"
     "No problem," she laughed.  "My place isn't hard to keep
clean, and I didn't get this body by eating fancy meals every
night.  We'll be eating mostly health foods, and they're easy to
prepare.  And, as far as being a gigolo is concerned, forget it.
Remember, you're not wooing me, I'm wooing you.  Think of it as a
trial marriage.  If it works out, I'll probably wind up marrying
you."
     "And if it doesn't?  I could wind up out on the street with
no job and no place to live!"
     She laughed again.  "Don't worry your pretty, little head
about that," she told me.  "I know you're as hot for me as I am
for you, and I'm convinced it's going to work out just fine.  But
if it doesn't, I'll set you up in your own place and support you
until you find a job.  And I'll even put that in writing, if
it'll make you feel more secure."
     It's not easy arguing with a woman Mona's beauty, size and
strength, particularly when she's holding you suspended in midair
two feet off the floor.  I tried to point out that it made more
sense to do her finances here at the gym as the records were
generated, but she blew that argument out of the water with my
own assertion that keeping her records up to date would only
require about a half hour a day, and what was I going to do the
rest of the time?  Offhand, I could think of half a dozen more
reasons why what she was proposing might not work, but she wasn't
having any of them.  She'd made up her mind and that was that.
And, as she pressed me against her and began to nibble my face
and neck, it required only a few minutes for her to make up my
mind as well.
     She called one of her staff to come in to manage the gym for
the day, got some boxes from a back room, took me back to my
apartment and informed me she'd be back by three to collect me
and my things.  Actually, that was more than enough time, since
my apartment was furnished, and I only had my clothes, a TV and
VCR, some dishes and pots and pans and a few other odds and ends.
At three o'clock sharp she was back with her computer, printer
and two small filing cabinets in the back of her station wagon.
She had even disassembled the computer table and had it strapped
to the luggage rack on the roof of the car.  Despite my
misgivings, I was ready for her--I really wasn't sure I had any
choice!--and she helped me load my things in her car and drove to
her condo.
     It was a two story, three bedroom townhouse, spacious and
beautifully furnished with an integral garage, in an upscale part
of the city less than a five minute walk from a mammoth shopping
center.  Like her office, the furniture seemed to have been
specially crafted to her scale, and I realized that I was going
to feel like a small child in this place.  The basement next to
the garage had been set up as a small gymnasium with a number of
heavy free weights and aerobic devices.  It took us less than an
hour to move everything in, my TV and VCR in her master bedroom,
my clothes in her huge, master bedroom closet and several empty
drawers of a long chest, and the computer equipment, filing
cabinets and the rest of my things in the third, small bedroom.
She gave me some tools, told me to set up the computer table and
equipment and then left "to pick up some things for tonight and
the day's records to put on system tomorrow".
     She returned in a little over two hours with a bottle of
champagne, a folder with her day's records, and a box in a large
shopping bag.  By that time I had everything put together and
working; there was even a telephone jack in the third bedroom for
her modem.  She put the champagne in the refrigerator and
returned to walk me into the master bedroom, where she quickly
undressed me and then herself.  "Don't get your hopes up just
yet, lover," she told me, grinning.  "First we shower, then we
eat, and then I'm gonna bang your eyes out!"
     The shower stall in her master bath was more than big enough
for both of us.  Standing next to her, dwarfed by her curvaceous,
massively muscular frame, with my eyes barely level with her
breasts and the small of her back, was almost enough to make me
orgasm right on the spot.  She told me to wash her first, and I
did, reaching up to soap her shoulders and then down her magnifi-
cent body with my small hands and marveling at the flawless
perfection of her skin and the huge, rippling muscles underneath.
She was like a goddess of overwhelming power and beauty and I a
puny mortal, wanting only to worship the glory of her womanhood
and become an insignificant part of the throne that was her body.
As I knelt before her to soap between and down shapely, oaken
thighs that seemed bigger than my chest, I couldn't resist the
sudden urge to lift my face and bury it in the wet, soapy bush
that covered the Gateway to Paradise, massaging it with my lips
in a feeble attempt to give her some of the pleasure that just
being near her was giving me.  I heard her sigh, and big hands
covered my head and pressed my face up hard into her, and then
moved me away to tilt my head back and force me to look up that
massive, towering body at her lovely features smiling down from
what seemed a mile above me as shower water cascaded over both of
us.

[uk1012uk]

"Later," she said softly.  "Finish me first."
     Dutifully I finished soaping her legs, letting my hands
linger with gentle caresses on her rock hard, softball size
calves, then rose reluctantly to find that, even stretching up on
tiptoe, I could barely reach her face, and shampooing that
lustrous mane of thick, shoulder-length, black hair would require
either a stool or a lift.  I got the latter.  She reached down
behind me to grip both my buttocks in a single, huge hand and
effortlessly lift me until my eyes were level with hers and then
pressed me against her, trapping my pulsating erection against
her hard, flat stomach.  I couldn't help myself.  I slid my arms
around her neck under her hair and kissed her open mouth as hard
as I could, probing the inside of her mouth with my tongue,
searching for and then intertwining with hers.  She responded
with a passion that more than matched my own, her free hand
cupping the back of my head as she bent me backward and molded my
body to hers.  Then, abruptly, she straightened and pulled my
head away from hers.
     "If we run out of hot water, baby," she whispered, "you're
going to wind up taking a cold shower all alone!"
     I got the message and, grinning ruefully, soaped her face,
ears and neck and, retrieving a tube of shampoo from a shower
caddy, worked a thick lather into her hair.  Only then did she
set me down, and I moved back into a corner of the stall, watcher
her stretch luxuriously as the cascading water finished rinsing
her hair and body.
     "Now, little one," she murmured, "it's your turn."
     Before I realized what was happening she had reached behind
me with a single hand, firmly wrapped her long fingers more than
halfway around my slender waist, and had lifted me to hold me
effortlessly, almost horizontally, in front of her, away from the
shower.  Although she had briefly held me this way the night
before, I could not help but gasp in amazement at this second
demonstration of her almost superhuman strength.  Taking the soap
in her free hand, she soaped the front of my body and my legs,
but avoided my face and privates, and then, after shifting her
grip to my stomach so she could hold me face down, soaped my back
and buttocks.  Then, continuing to hold me face down, she
returned the soap to the rack and began to gently massage the
slippery substance into my soft flesh with her huge, bare hand.
     The thrill of her huge, powerful hand exploring my naked
back and buttocks was indescribable.  Sensations of ecstasy and
desire coursed through my entire body, and I heard myself gasp
and moan.  But that was nothing compared to what I felt as she
turned me face up and, continuing to hold my helpless, writhing
body in the palm of her single hand, began to knead the soapy
lather into my face and hair, then my chest and stomach, and,
finally, incredibly, between my legs to lightly explore my aching
testicles and massage my erect and throbbing penis.  My eyes were
closed in the ecstasy of the moment, and the touch of her massive
hands and powerful fingers on my body suddenly became my universe,
driving all else from my consciousness.
     "Oh, God, Mona!" I heard myself moan, "I'm going to explode!"
     "No!" she hissed.  "Not yet!" and instantly I felt her hand
close tightly over my penis and her thumb press tightly down on
its tip.  There was a moment's thrill, and then I was lifted and
turned, and water was cascading over my face and body, draining,
by some miracle, the desire from my body.  I could not open my
eyes until she finally lowered me to my feet and turned off the
shower, and when I did I saw that she had opened the door of the
stall and was retrieving two huge towels from a rack on the wall.
One she draped over my shoulders, its long folds reaching down to
my ankles, while she dried herself with the other.  I watched her
with envy, wanting so much to dry her myself, to explore and feel
those massive muscles under the smooth, perfect flesh of her
giant body.  But she finished quickly, and then turned to reach
down and place her towel around the one already covering me, wrap
them both tightly around my entire body, and then sweep me up in
her mighty arms and carry me into the bedroom.
     I've often wondered if any man can remember what it was like
when he was an infant wrapped in blankets and cradled in his
mother's arms.  I certainly did not, and yet, completely encased
in those huge towels and cuddled securely against her wide, naked
chest with my head tucked against her broad shoulder, looking up
in adoration at those beautiful, larger than life features
looming so close above my own, that's exactly how I felt.  And I
knew then that I wanted nothing more than to be hers, to worship
and serve this magnificent giantess who seemed more than human, a
goddess of incomparable power and beauty, and to have my body
literally melt into hers and become one with her for eternity.
     She carried me to a large chair in one corner of the bedroom
and sat down in it, placed me on her lap, and, with my head still
tucked against her shoulder, dried my face and hair with a corner
of the towel.  Then, as I again writhed in the ecstasy of her
touch, with little pats and hugs through the towels encasing my
body, she dried the rest of me.
     "Now," she whispered, nuzzling my face with her full, firm
lips, "I have something for you."  She stood up and, incredibly,
shifted me so that my entire body was cradled in a single arm,
and then carried me across the room to her huge bed to retrieve
the large shopping bag she had brought back with her and dump the
box inside it onto the bed.  Opening the box with her free hand,
she produced two frilly aprons and two shorty nightgowns, all
satin and a light, baby blue in color.  As I gaped at them in
mingled amazement and dismay, she set me on my feet, removed the
towels from my body and told me, "These are what you will wear,
and all you will wear, when you're with me!"
     "But, Mona!" I protested, "these are women's things!  I
can't wear them!  I may be small and puny compared to you, but
I'm still a man!"
     Seating herself on the bed with her eyes almost down to my
level, she smiled condescendingly.  "They're only women's clothes
if you think of them as such," she corrected me.  "I had to guess
at your size, but they seem made for your soft, little body.  I
want to feel your body through the touch of satin, and I know you
will love the feel of it on your delicate skin as much as I do."
She chuckled and added, "I would have made you wear my things,
but you'd drown in them!  Even my shorty nightgowns would reach
way below your knees!  In these, your body will be instantly
available to me any time I want it, which, my little doll man,
will be often, I assure you!  Now, stop trying to argue with me
and lift your arms so I can try this nightie on you!"
     With a sigh borne of the futility of attempting to deny this
overpowering Amazon anything she wished, I did as I was told, and
she slipped the garment over my arms and head and down my body,
smoothing the narrow straps over my shoulders.  Instantly, my
skin seemed to tingle at the touch of the smooth, silky material
which barely reached below my privates.  It was, of course,
somewhat loose in the chest, but seemed snug around my waist, and
Mona frowned.  "Got the smallest bust size I could find for your
size, little one, and you're a bit flabby around the waistline,"
she murmured, "but we'll soon fix that.  Otherwise, it's perfect,
fits you like a glove."  And she ran her huge hands up and down
my satin covered body, sending shivers of ecstasy through me and
rekindling my desire.  "Baby," she whispered, her voice suddenly
husky, "you're adorable in that nightie!  I think the food will
have to wait a while..."  Suddenly I was in her arms, one around
my neck and the other encircling my waist, crushing me against
her massive body between her open thighs as her open mouth
captured mine, bending me backward with a force that would have
torn my head from my shoulders but for her supporting arm around
my neck.  Then her hands were around my waist, lifting me, turn-
ing me and laying me on my back on her bed and she was on top of
me, covering my face and neck with kisses as her hands probed,
stroked and fondled my helpless body at will.
     Like the night before, she was the complete aggressor, but
this time seemed in no rush to take me.  Instead, she manipulated
my body with practiced skill, bringing me to the brink of orgasm
and holding me there, yet never letting me over the edge.  For a
brief, terrifying moment I thought she was using me, toying with
me, with no intention to take me, but the flush of her face as
she covered my body with kisses and love bites and the heat of
her magnificent body told me that she was only building her own
desire and needed no help from me to do so.  Indeed, the very
passivity of my soft, slender, satin covered body seemed more
than enough to inflame her.
     It was only when she moved forward to bury my face between
her naked breasts and I heard her rasp, "Suck me!  Hard!" that I
was permitted to respond to her advances, and I had to twist my
head to take one hard nipple in my mouth while I massaged the
other with my hand.  I felt her hands grip my hips and hold me in
place as she maneuvered herself over my throbbing shaft, protrud-
ing now from beneath my nightie, to tease its tip with her clit
until my entire body was aching for release and then to envelope
me completely in the soft, firm folds of her womanhood.
     In that moment we became one; I was part of her, submerged
in her, an insignificant extension of her overpowering femininity
and completely under her control.  As the ecstasy of my desire
filled my consciousness, in the deep recesses of my mind I knew
that I was hers forever, that without her I could never be whole
again, for she was unique, one of a kind, and no lesser woman
could ever be enough for me.  When at last I felt the muscles of
her channel tighten and then erupt around me and heard her hiss,
"Now!", it seemed that my body obeyed her automatically, flooding
me with an ecstasy that eclipsed even my memory of the night
before, carrying me to unbelievable heights of passion and
holding me there until, at last, her body relaxed and she slowly,
almost reluctantly, rose off my prostrate form.
     I don't know how long afterward we lay together, she on her
back with her arm around my shoulders cuddling me tightly against
her, and I on my side, my head resting on her broad shoulder,
straining to get closer to her, wanting every inch of our bodies
to be touching.  Finally she raised her head to look down at me
and, with a teasing smile, kissed me lightly.  "Was that enough
foreplay for you?" she murmured.
     I looked up at her in adoration and spoke the only thought
that filled my mind.  "I love you," I whispered.
     She smiled again and gently touched a forefinger to the tip
of my nose.  "You'd better," she told me, "because you belong to
me, now.  You're mine, all mine.  Forever."
     I closed my eyes.  "I think," I replied softly, "I was yours
from the first day we met."
     That was the beginning of my new life.  Gone were any
aspirations of success in the business world.  Instead, I was
content--no, overjoyed!--to worship and serve this magnificent,
Amazonian goddess who had captured my heart.  And she could not
have been a more loving Mistress.  She taught me how to cook for
us and clean her townhouse, and established a routine of aerobic
exercises to strengthen and firm my body, which I rigidly
observed in her basement gym.  Within weeks, to Mona's delight, I
had lost over an inch from my waistline and had gained five
pounds of firm, flexible muscle, and the nightie that was my
nightly attire fit my slender body like a glove.  I joked that if
I kept this up I might become as strong as she, and we both
laughed at the absurdity of that notion.  During the day I wore
the aprons she had purchased, together with matching slippers, as
my only dress, changing only when I had to leave the townhouse to
shop.  At her insistence, I reluctantly let my hair grow shoulder
length, knowing that somehow that made me more desirable to her.
And, of course, I continued to handle all of her finances,
spending an hour each day entering the data from her gym's
records from the day before and tracking her personal and household
expenses.  The gym was continuing to do extremely well, and
Mona had more money than we could spend.
     Then, after we had been together for about six months, she
made a startling announcement: she had decided to marry me!  I
was overcome with joy!  The arrangements had already been made,
and we were married the following Saturday in her gym before a
female Justice of the Peace who was one of her customers.  It
was, to say the least, an unusual ceremony!  Only the gym's staff
and customers were there, and they formed an aisle leading from
the back of the gym to a small table where Mona, towering a
glorious 7' in a white leather outfit and matching, high heeled
boots, and the Justice were waiting.  Wearing my nightie, which,
necessarily, had been augmented by matching panties, I was
escorted down the aisle by Mona's assistant gym manager, a 5'10"
female bodybuilder who dwarfed me in her high heels, and then
lifted and handed bodily to Mona, who held me like a child in the
curve of one arm, wrapped around my thighs, for the remainder of
the ceremony.  I promised to love, honor and obey her, and she to
love, care for, protect, guide me in all things and discipline me
only when deserved.  During the reception which followed, I was
subjected to the bruising ritual of "Kiss the Groom", and, when
it came time for Mona to throw the garter, since she had none,
she threw me instead, back over her shoulder to the waiting
bachelorettes!  The girls were standing on a wide, thick mat so I
wouldn't be hurt in case I was dropped, but, fortunately, I was
caught by short, chunky blonde musclegirl who had about as much
chance of becoming the next bride as I did of becoming a mother
(no cracks, please)!
     The following Monday Mona and I signed and filed the necessary
papers to change our last name back to hers, and life went
on until, several months later, Mona informed me that she was
pregnant.  I was, of course, delighted at the prospect of becoming
a father, but, knowing that I would be responsible for the
baby's care, worried about the effect of pregnancy on Mona's
muscleladen frame and whether I could be an adequate substitute
for a normal mother; certainly breast feeding was out!  I needn't
have on either count.  Mona continued, but lightened somewhat,
her workouts, and by the end of her fifth month the only evidence
of her pregnancy was a slight thickening of her waistline.  By
this time she had also determined the baby's sex, and told me
that it was a girl who, she decreed, "was going to be a new breed
of superwoman, taller and stronger than any man in the world".
To this end, and against the advice of her obstetrician, she
began taking a variety of special supplements designed stimulate
the baby's growth and muscular development.  It must have worked,
for "little" Amanda was born four months later, all 14-1/2 lbs.
of her!
     And that is when my life began to change--and not for the
better!

[uk1012uk]

 Part 2 - Amanda From Birth to 8
     
     The year and a half that Mona and I had been together before
Amanda's birth had been sheer bliss for me.  She worked long
hours at the gym and was invariably there at seven in the morning
when it opened.  But, since her condo was only a short drive
away, she often took a couple of hours to come home for the lunch
I prepared for her and spend some time playing with me, sometimes
lifting me and, after she'd discovered how ticklish I was, tickl-
ing my naked ribs, and at other times cuddling me on her lap or
carrying me into the bedroom to toss me on the bed for a
"quickie".  Although the gym did not close until ten in the
evening, closing was rotated between her and her three staff
members, and three week nights out of four she was home by seven
for a late dinner, which I always had ready for her.
     After dinner, while I was doing the dishes, I never knew
when she was going to come up behind me and playfully violate me
in some way, either squeezing my bare buttocks, which were always
exposed behind the apron covering my chest, stomach and privates,
or sliding single hand between my thighs to cup my crotch and
lift me effortlessly to hold my entire weight balanced in her
palm, laughing that she wanted to make sure she had me "well in
hand".  Once my body had been slenderized and firmed by the
exercises she had prescribed, she would turn me to face her, grip
both my arms just below the elbows and pin them to my sides, and
then, with her thumb and long fingers pressing into the slender,
supple muscles of my stomach and back, lift me to hold me high in
the air in front of her and tilt me forward and down so she could
tantalize my face, chest and stomach with little nibblings and
kisses while I writhed with helpless desire in her iron, but
gentle, grasp.
     We did not go out often at first, until she had a couple she
knew, who served as her seamstress and tailor, fit me with a
complete new wardrobe of ruffles and soft, clinging material
that, coupled with my long hair, gave me an almost feminine look.
We were undoubtedly an unusual couple, a tiny, slender man in
ruffles guided by a powerful giantess towering 7' in high heels
and suits of suede or leather, and stares and whispers accompanied
us wherever we went.  Occasionally a burly male would
approach us with a sneering or obscene suggestion or comment, but
invariably would slink away whimpering with a crushed hand or
wrist.  On one occasion, at a bar, she actually grasped a 6 foot,
200 lb. man by his throat with a single hand, lifted him and held
him at arm's length until he almost passed out for lack of air
before dropping him in a crumpled, gasping heap on the floor at
her feet.
     Initially I expressed concern that she was trying to
"feminize" me, but she laughed and told me not to be so concerned
about stereotypes.  "Do you think I'm masculine because I'm so
muscular and so much bigger and stronger than you?" she asked me.
"To me, men are the weaker sex!  One of the many reasons I fell
in love with you is that you're so small, soft and pliable, and
so passively responsive when I make love to you.  The fact is
that I'm a big, strong, aggressive woman and you're a small,
weak, passive man, and I want the way we dress to reflect that.
But that doesn't make you any less a man--in fact, you're more
than enough man to satisfy me, which is more than I can say about
most of the so-called 'macho' types I've run into!"
     That attitude was certainly reflected in our lovemaking for,
at least in the beginning, she was always the aggressor, forcing
me into the role of passive receptacle for her passionate caresses
and kisses which never let me fail her.  Although I loved
the feel of her huge hands and searching lips on my small body, I
also longed to worship with kisses and caresses of my own that
magnificent temple that was her body, to explore with my lips and
hands every pore of her perfect skin and every bulge, curve and
crevice of the massive muscles that flared and surged underneath.
Repeated entreaties at first produced only a condescending smile
and the assurance that such ministrations were unnecessary, that
merely seeing my naked, supple, little body was more than enough
to "make me want to rape you!", but one evening I finally
convinced her to let me try.  She disappeared into the bedroom and
emerged completely naked except for 5" spike heels and stood
before me grinning down at me with her legs spread and her hands
on her hips and every rock hard muscle of her massive body flexed
and bulging!
     It was an obvious dare, but the mere sight of this towering
spectacle of beauty and power was enough to make me almost
delirious with desire.  I barely remember retrieving the needed
footstool to cover her shoulders, chest and breasts with caresses
and kisses, or of her turning so I could worship the powerful,
unbelievably muscular "V" of her back.  I was conscious only of
her, the closeness and hugeness of her as I slowly nibbled,
kissed and caressed every square inch of that massive triangle of
rippling muscularity and then down to cover rounded hips that
seemed carved in dark ivory.  Suddenly I was on my knees before
her, my arms wrapped around her legs, stroking and caressing her
bulging calves and then those huge, oaken thighs, barely able to
reach around and titillate the solid, inner walls that guarded
her heavenly bush.  I heard her gasp and moan, and the powerful,
musk odor of her own desire almost overwhelmed me.  Throwing
caution to the winds, I plunged my face into that glorious
receptacle, wanting only to give her the ecstasy that her mere
presence had given me.  But she gave a little cry, and then I was
plucked from my knees like a toy and almost thrown on my back on
the carpet.  She was upon me and made love to me like a giant
tigress, literally ravaging me and bringing us both to new
pinnacles of rapture that left us limp and exhausted, yet wanting
more.  After that there was much more variation in our lovemaking,
and she would often interrupt my household chores with the
command, "Come and worship me!"
     With her pregnancy, however, and her revelation that she
intended to have the tallest, strongest daughter in the world,
the joy of impending fatherhood was tempered with concern, not
only over whether I could properly care for her as a baby, but
also how I would be able to handle as a parent a child who might
well exceed me in size and strength before she reached the age of
reason.  When I expressed these concerns to Mona, she merely
smiled, cuddled me on her lap and told me not to "worry your
pretty, little head over such things."
     As it turned out, however, my concerns were not unwarranted.
From the beginning it was apparent that Amanda was physically and
intellectually precocious, and Mona, who resumed her full work-
outs and had returned to the gym within a week after we had
brought her home, established firm, clearly defined guidelines
for Amanda's care to ensure that the baby reached her maximum
potential.  Special vitamins and supplements were added to her
formula to stimulate both growth and physical development, and I
was required to exercise her arms and legs within carefully
defined limits to increase her strength.
     The results were amazing.  From her birth Amanda, in addi-
tion to being an extraordinarily beautiful baby, was way off the
charts in size.  Within a few months we had to buy adult diapers
for her, and no baby clothes available in stores would fit her.
As a result, Mona's seamstress and tailor friends were kept busy
making baby pajamas, dresses and coats for her.  Her development
was equally incredible.  She was standing at four months and
walking at six.  By the time she reached her first birthday Mona
had coaxed her into lifting very light weights and working out on
specially designed exercise machines, to which, to my surprise,
the toddler took like a fish to water.  Although I worried that
lifting even those light weights at her tender age might damage
her soft, developing bone structure, the vitamins and supplements
Mona had prescribed had apparently worked, for regular checkups
with the pediatrician revealed no evidence of injury or deformation. 
Indeed, the doctor was constantly amazed at the child's
developing size and strength.
     Shortly after Amanda's birth Mona also decided that the
child needed more outside room to play than her condo provided.
The condo was sold and she moved us into a lovely, secluded,
three bedroom home located on a huge, wooded lot in an undeveloped
area.  The house was located on both commuter and school bus
lines, but was sufficiently far from shopping that Mona was
forced to purchase a second car for me.  There was a large
swimming pool in the back yard, and Mona immediately hired a
coach to teach little Amanda to swim.  Naturally buoyant from the
layer of baby fat that covered her developing musculature, within
two months she was swimming like a fish and had another exercise
to add to her increasingly heavy weight training and aerobic
schedules. 

[uk1012uk]

The furniture from the condo was enough to fill all the
rooms of the house except the living and family rooms, and that's
when I learned how Mona had managed to procure the larger than
life size furniture that made me feel so small, almost child-like;
they had all been specially made for her by a small, local
furniture company the president of which was the husband of one
of Mona's customers.  The additional pieces she had made for the
house, including an extra large crib for Amanda's nursery, were
expensive, but perfect for a woman of Mona's size, if not for me.
     By Amanda's second birthday it had become obvious that she
was going to be a strong willed child.  Already over three feet
tall and 80 solid pounds, she was becoming difficult to handle.
Mona didn't make things any easier for me by making no secret to
the child of my physical inferiority; although she obviously had
to permit me to wear shorts under my apron, it was not uncommon
for Amanda to enter a room to see Mona cuddling me on her lap or
holding me high in the air with my head brushing the ceiling.
"Mommy, when can I do that with Daddy?" she would invariably ask,
and Mona would reply, "When you're older and stronger, dear."
     That day came sooner than either of us expected, and my
worst fears were realized.  Amanda had passed her fifth birthday
and had started kindergarten, and, compared to the other children,
was a veritable giantess, standing just over four and a
half feet tall.  Her chunky, child's body still had a deceptive
layer of baby fat concealing strata of solid muscle, and she
outweighed me by a good fifteen pounds.  On her third day at
school I received a frantic call from her teacher, a tiny young
woman not much taller and at least thirty pounds lighter than
Amanda.  Apparently three little boys in her class had been
teasing Amanda about her size, and Amanda had reacted by simply
taking all three of them down on the floor and sitting on them.
When the teacher ordered her to let them up she refused.  Unable
to budge her physically, the teacher was forced to call the
school principal, a heavy set ex-football player who, with some
difficulty, was finally able to pull Amanda off the boys and take
her to the office.  I immediately changed into a shirt and
slacks, drove to the school, brought her home and escorted her to
her room, where I instructed her to stay until her mother arrived
home.  "Then," I told her grimly, "we're going to decide what to
do about this."
     She looked at me defiantly.  "I'm gonna do my workout and
then I'm gonna go swimmin'!" she announced, and started to change
her clothes.
     "Young lady," I grated, "you are not leaving this room!" and
grabbed her by the wrist.  That was my mistake.  Instinctively
she whipped her arm around, her face red with anger, and the next
thing I knew I was flying across the room to hit the wall with a
sickening thud.  I must have blacked out for a second; all I
remember is seeing stars, and when I opened my eyes Amanda was
leaning over me, the anger in her child's face replaced by
mingled fright and concern.
     "Are you all right, Daddy?" she asked plaintively.  "You're
not hurt, are you?  Tell me you're not hurt!"
     I didn't answer her, but struggled to my feet and, still
dizzy, leaned back against the wall trying to figure out what had
happened.  The next thing I knew my left wrist was held in an
iron grip and I was lifted, draped over Amanda's shoulders and
carried across the room to be dumped on my back on her oversized
bed.  My head was still spinning, but now from the realization
that I had been completely overpowered by my five year old
daughter!
     I started to rise and got halfway up before her pudgy hands
on both my shoulders pushed me back down on the bed.  "Please
don't get up, yet, Daddy," she begged me.  "You look so funny,
like you're sick or something!"
     "I'm fine, Amanda," I assured her shakily.  "Now please let
me up!"
     She stepped back and I slid off the bed.  My head had
cleared, but my mind was still struggling to cope with this new
development.  I didn't speak, but simply left the room, closing
the door behind me.  As I did so, I glimpsed Amanda out of the
corner of my eye, looking at my retreating figure.  The concern
was gone from her child's face and had been replaced by an odd
expression of mingled confusion and a dawning awareness that gave
me a feeling of acute discomfort.
     I went back to the computer and was entering the gym's data
from the previous day when I heard her go down to the basement to
begin her workout.  During the last year, as I had seen her lift
heavier and heavier weights, I had deliberately avoided watching
these workouts, fearing a challenge to compare muscle that I knew
eventually I would lose, so I finished at the computer and was
dusting and vacuuming the living, dining and family rooms when I
heard her splashing about in the pool.  I was in the kitchen
putting away the dishes from the dishwasher when, still wearing
her bathing suit, she came up behind me and, without warning, put
her thick, pudgy arms around my apron covered waist and, with a
barely audible grunt of effort, lifted me several inches off the
floor.
     "Guess what, Daddy?" she gushed in her little girl's voice.
"I'm stronger than you!"
     I immediately grabbed both her wrists and tried to pry her
arms apart, but she had her fingers locked together, and I
couldn't budge them.  "Amanda!" I yelped.  "Put me down this
instant!"
     "Why, Daddy?  You like it when Mommy does this to you!  I
can tell!"
     I couldn't see her face, which was pressed against my
shoulder blades, but her voice sounded genuinely puzzled.  I
thought fast.  "You're not your mother!" I told her sternly.
"And you're only five years old!  You know how often your mother
has told you not to lift too much weight at your age!  I can tell
I'm too heavy for you!  You could hurt yourself lifting me!"
     That apparently made sense to her, for she reluctantly
lowered me to my feet.  Her arms, however, were still around my
waist, and before I could react she had wrestled me to my back on
the floor, straddled my stomach and had gripped my wrists with
her pudgy hands, pinning both my hands against the floor next to
my head.  I was momentarily stunned, then strained with all my
might to force my hands up off the floor, but the combination of
her strength, weight and her leverage advantage was too much, and
I was only able to raise them an inch or two before being forced
back down again.
     "Gotcha!" she proclaimed with obvious pride.
     "Dammit, Amanda!" I yelled.  "Let me up!"
     "Mommy says it's not nice to swear, Daddy," she giggled.
"Say 'pretty please'!  Say 'pretty please with sugar on it'!"
     "When I tell your mother about this..."
     She bit her lip.  "I can't wait to tell Mommy!" she gushed.
"She'll be so proud of how strong I am!"
     I had to think fast again.  After all, a thirty year old man
should be able to outthink a five year old child!  "You're right,
Amanda," I said.  "Let's call her right now!"
     Her face was suddenly aglow.  "Can we, Daddy?  Can we call
her right now?"
     "Absolutely.  Let me up and I'll do it.  Right now!"
     She got off me, pulled me to my feet, and I couldn't get to
the phone fast enough.  Mona answered, and I told her, "We have a
problem!  I need you home as fast as you can get here!"
     "What's the matter?"
     Amanda was practically tearing the phone out of my hands, so
I said, "Here, I'll let your daughter tell you!" and gave up the
receiver.
     "Mommy!  Guess what!?!"  She was bubbling over with enthusiasm. 
"I'm stronger than Daddy!  I actually picked him up off the
floor and then took him down and sat on him!"  There was a
moment's silence.  Her face first registered surprise, then
disappointment, and then, after several more moments, she sheepishly
handed the phone back to me.  "Mommy wants to talk to you,"
she said.
     "What's she doing home?" Mona asked me.  "Why isn't she in
school?"
     "That's part of the problem.  I'll tell you when you get
here."
     She told me she'd leave immediately, and I hung up.  I
turned to face Amanda, who was almost in tears.
     "Mommy said I should wait for her in my room," she mumbled.
     "Then that's what you'd better do," I said.
     To my relief, she did, but, as I watched her slowly scuffle
up the stairs looking absolutely crushed, I felt sorry for her.
She was, after all, only five years old.  I wanted to go to her
and put my arms around her and tell her that it wasn't so bad
after all, but I also knew that would be a mistake, perhaps for
me as well as for her.  So I said nothing and went back to my
housework.
     Mona arrived about a half hour later, still in her workout
tights, and I related the day's events to her.  She told me to
wait in the living room and went upstairs to Amanda's room and
closed the door.  I heard them talking, but couldn't understand
what was being said.  Then I heard Amanda's door open, and Mona
came down the stairs carrying Amanda in one arm wrapped around
the child's thighs.  Amanda had her arms around Mona's neck and
her face buried in her shoulder and, cuddled against Mona's giant
frame, looked for all the world like just another, small, five
year old child.  Mona came over to me, picked me up in her other
arm and carried us both over to one of the easy chairs, where she
set Amanda on her feet and sat down with me on her lap.
     "Now, Amanda," Mona said sternly, "tell Daddy how sorry you
are, for what you did to those boys in school and for what you
did to Daddy here."
     Looking at the floor and scuffing the rug with one foot,
Amanda mumbled, "I'm sorry, Daddy."
     "And tomorrow," Mona continued, "Daddy will take you back to
school to the principal's office, and what will you do then?"
     "Tell him I'm sorry, too."
     "And what else?"
     "That I won't do anything like that ever again."
     "So," Mona went on, "what will you do if those boys or any
of the other children at school tease you again?"
     Amanda bit her lip.  "I won't pay any attention, and I'll
walk away," she replied.
     "That's right," Mona said approvingly.  "And what about when
you're home alone with Daddy?"
     Amanda looked quickly at me and then at the floor again.
"I'll mind Daddy and do what he says," she replied.
     "And why will you do that?"
     "'Cause I'm only five years old and Daddy's all grown up."
     Mona nodded.  "That's right," she said again.  "Now, listen
to me very carefully, Amanda.  You're a very big, strong girl for
your age, and you're growing bigger and stronger every day.  It
won't be long before you'll be a LOT bigger and stronger than
Daddy, and in another year or two you'll be bigger and stronger
than most grown men.  So you'll have to remember that Daddy is
only a man.  Like all men, he's weak and helpless--weaker and
more helpless even than most men--and that it's up to us as women
to love him, protect him and take care of him, and, yes, to guide
and control him to make sure he does what he's supposed to,
because as women we know what's best for him.  Right now that's
Mommy's job, because you're too young.  But in another few years,
when you're a little older and more mature..."
     I started to choke and tried to intervene, "Huh?  Now, wait
a minute, Mona..." but her hand, which was around my shoulders,
quickly clamped over my mouth to shut off my protest.
     "...you'll be so much bigger and stronger than Daddy," she
continued, ignoring my struggles, "that you'll be able to take
care of him and protect him when I'm not around and make sure he
does the things I want him to do, just like I do when I'm at
home.  Do you understand that, dear?"
     Amanda's face brightened.  "You mean I can pick Daddy up and
play with him the way you do, Mommy?" she asked eagerly.
     Mona smiled.  "Well, not exactly the way I do, dear," she
murmured, "but, in general, yes."
     "When, Mommy?  When can I play with Daddy?"
     Mona's smile widened.  "Perhaps," she replied, "when you can
understand the difference between what you can do with Daddy and
the things I can do with him that you can't.  I'll tell you when.
Now, show Daddy how much you love him, and then, as I told you
before, you're going to have to spend the night in your room as a
punishment for what you did today."
     Mona removed her hand from my mouth, but, as I tried to
renew my protest, Amanda threw her arms around my neck and chest
and gave me a hug that expelled all the air from my lungs, and
then, with a quick, wet kiss on my cheek, ran upstairs.  I
twisted around on Mona's lap to look up at her beautiful features
smiling down at me.
     "Jesus, Mona!" I yelped.  "Are you nuts?  In 2-3 years
she'll only be seven or eight years old!"
     She gave me a condescending pat on my head.  "And in less
than a year," she told me, "perhaps only a few months, she'll be
taller than you and so much stronger than you that she'll be able
to handle you almost as easily as I can.  You may as well face
it, darling: you're a small, defenseless man in a household of
Amazonian women who, fortunately for you, love you and want to
protect you and take care of you, but to whom you will always be
subservient.  Unfortunately for you, Amanda has developed some-
what faster than I thought she would, and it won't be long before
you wind up as physically subservient to her as you have been to
me.  I'm going to have to spend some time with her to make sure
that, when that happens, she doesn't accidentally hurt you or do
anything else to you that she shouldn't.  I wouldn't worry too
much, though; I think she's very mature for her age, and she does
listen to what I tell her."

[uk1012uk]

I was getting a queasy feeling in my stomach.  "What do you
mean, do anything else to me that she shouldn't?"
     Mona chuckled.  "Well," she replied, "if Amanda is as
precocious sexually as she is in every other way, she may hit
puberty early, too, and get some ideas she shouldn't.  So, we'll
have to make sure she doesn't wind up molesting her helpless,
little Daddy!"
     "Mona!" I gasped, horrified.  "That's awful!  You can't
possibly believe..."
     She laughed, hugged me close to her and stood up, holding me
cuddled securely in her massive arms.  "Anything's possible,
baby," she murmured.  "That's why you're so lucky to have such a
big, strong wife to protect you from our Amazonian daughter!  On
that note, since I had to come home early to save you from her,
and since Amanda is confined to her room for the evening, I'm
going to take advantage of the opportunity and let you show me
how grateful you are!"
     "I'm not in the mood!" I muttered.
     She nibbled my ear.  "I'll fix that," she said.  And she
did.
     She was also right about Amanda, who continued to develop at
an astounding pace.  Within eight months after that fateful day
she could look me straight in the eye, and by her sixth birthday
she was two inches taller than I, weighed over 160 lbs. of solid
muscle and was so much bigger than I in every dimension that,
standing next to her, I almost felt like the child.  Nevertheless,
perhaps because Mona spent a lot of time talking alone with
her in the evening, she was true to her mother's instructions and
rarely gave me any trouble, until, one evening when Mona was
cuddling me on her lap in the living room, Amanda came downstairs
with a question.
     "Mommy, would it be all right if I made Daddy come down with
me while I do my workouts after school?" she asked.
     Mona's big hand immediately covered my open mouth again.
"Why, dear?" she asked, frowning.
     "Well, I peeked at Daddy when he was on the scale today, and
he only weighs a hundred and twenty pounds!  The same weight as
my barbells.  Daddy'd be a lot more fun to lift than those old
barbells!"
     Mona's hand over my mouth effectively choked off my squealed
protest.  "Which barbells are those, dear?" she asked Amanda.
     "The ones on the bench I use for bench pressing," Amanda
replied.
     Mona thought a moment.  "I guess that would be all right,"
she said finally, "as long as you only bench press him and move
the bench on that heavy mat we have.  No over the head lifts,
'cause if you lose control of Daddy and drop him you could hurt
him, even if he fell on the mat."
     Amanda's eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands delight-
edly.  "Oh, goody!" she cried.  "Daddy, we're gonna have so much
fun!"
     I was struggling on Mona's lap pulling on her wrist with
both my hands in a futile attempt to remove her hand from my
mouth, but I don't think she even noticed my efforts.  Instead,
she eyed Amanda sternly and added, "Now, listen to me, Amanda,
you understand that this doesn't change anything else.  Daddy's
still your father, and you still have to do everything he says
before your workouts and once they're over, at least until Mommy
tells you otherwise.  Is that clear?"
     Amanda nodded eagerly.
     "And another thing," Mona continued.  "In addition to Daddy,
you should also bench with your regular barbells, because I think
you'll find in a month or so, as you get stronger, Daddy will be
too light to give you a heavy enough workout.  When that happens
you must stop benching Daddy and go back to just using your
barbells."
     Amanda looked perplexed, then brightened again.  "Maybe then
I could use him for arm curls," she suggested.
     "Perhaps, if you did it sitting down over the mat," Mona
replied.  "But we'll decide that when the time comes."
     Amanda grinned delightedly and threw her arms around Mona's
neck and kissed her cheek.  "Oh, thank you, Mommy!" she exclaimed
and, after kissing me on my forehead, went back upstairs.
     "Mona!" I grated as she removed her hand from my mouth, but
she put a finger to my lips.
     "Shush!" she told me.  "Letting her do this won't hurt you
and will be a good test for her maturity.  If she continues to
obey you in everything else, that will tell us a lot about what
we can expect from her in the future."
     So I became a human barbell for my six year old daughter.
Every day she would come home from school, change into her
workout tights and come downstairs.  "Time for our workout,
Daddy!" she would proclaim and, tossing me over her shoulder,
carry me down to the basement gym.  After warming up, she would
lay down on her back on the bench, make me stand next to her with
my back to her, and then reach up to grasp the back of my neck
and my buttocks and pull me backward to lay me face up across her
chest.  After pressing me up and down as many times as she could,
she would release me and I would slide off her to stand
unsteadily on my feet, always somewhat dizzy from the jerky,
vertical movements to which my body had been subjected.  Once the
workouts were over, however, she was true to her word, obeyed my
every direction and made no attempt to demonstrate her physical
superiority in any other way.  Finally, after about a month, she
was pressing me a dozen or more times with little difficulty, and
when I suggested that it was time to go on to heavier weights, to
my relief she reluctantly agreed.  Fortunately, I was still a bit
heavy for arm curls, so I got a temporary reprieve from my role
as Amanda's human barbell.
     By her seventh birthday, however, Amanda had reached what
was to me the imposing height of 5'9".  With the childlike
chunkiness she still had not outgrown, she weighed almost two
hundred pounds, and had long since discovered that I was too
light even to be used for arm curls.  From the time the child
could stand Mona, had made monthly videotapings of Amanda stand-
ing against a height chart on the wall of our bedroom to show her
continuing development.  These tapings were generally made on
Sunday evening, when Mona was home early from the gym.  She would
always make me stand next to Amanda, and sometimes, with the
camcorder on a tripod, she would have Amanda stand between both
of us,  Then, as Amanda passed me in height, Mona would stand me
between them to emphasize my diminutive stature, particularly in
comparison to Mona, who towered a full two feet over me in the 7"
high heels she always wore during these sessions.  To make
matters worse, on Amanda's seventh birthday, Mona bought her a
pair of 5" spike heels.  Standing next to her, with my daughter's
massive body now looming a full foot above me, I was literally
dwarfed by her.  She had Amanda bend down and kiss the top of my
head and then, to my consternation, pick me up and cuddle me in
her powerful arms, which she did as easily as if I, and not she,
were the child.  Even worse, the feeling of being so small and
helpless cradled in my daughter's arms kindled budding sensations
of sexual desire in me, sensations that even the horror, disgust
and shame they produced could not completely quell.  Finally,
after my pleas had convinced her to make Amanda put me down, Mona
joined us before the camera wearing her own 7" heels.  Sandwiched
between these two giant Amazons, I felt like a midget, and my
erection burst into full bloom, hard, throbbing and preserved on
tape for posterity!  Fortunately, only Mona noticed my predicament
and, following the session after Amanda had retired to her
room, took care of it in her usual, capable way.  Afterward, as I
lay cuddled against Mona's powerful body, I couldn't help but
wonder how much longer I would be permitted to exercise some
modicum of control over my Amazonian child who was now more than
strong enough to do whatever she pleased with me and was begin-
ning to show signs of resentment toward my increasingly fragile
authority over her.
     The end of that authority came at a videotaping session just
before Amanda's eighth birthday.  By this time she had reached
the unbelievable height of 6'2", outweighed me by over a hundred
pounds, and her body was beginning to lose its chunkiness and
show signs of the magnificent, curvaceously solid muscularity she
would eventually develop.  While she still wore the little girl
dresses Mona continued to have specially made for her, she had
also put on her new pair of 6" spike heeled pumps which Mona had
bought for her some weeks before and which her size 10 feet could
wear without discomfort.  Standing next to her in my customary
apron and panties as Mona videotaped us, my eyes barely reached
to where her breasts would shortly blossom.  I looked up to see
her smiling down at me with an almost condescending look in her
eyes.
     "You know, Mommy," she said, "Daddy's almost like a little
baby compared to me.  I think I'm going to start calling him
'Little Baby Daddy'!  With his long hair, apron and panties, he
could almost be my baby sister!"
     Mona gave me a musing look that made my stomach suddenly
very queasy.  "You know, Amanda," she said after a moment,
"that's a very interesting thought.  Why don't you go to that big
trunk in your room where we have your old dresses stored and
bring me the box marked '5-8'?  I think we're going to have some
fun with Daddy!"
     Amanda gave a delighted laugh and, as Mona switched off the
camcorder, ran from the room.  I turned to Mona and began to
plead with her not to do this to me, but she grinned and, taking
both my wrists in one huge hand, led me to her vanity and lifted
me up to set me on the high seat in front of her mirror.  "What--
what are you going to do to me?" I quavered.
     "I'm going to do your hair, darling," she told me with a
light pat on the top of my head.  "We can't very well make you
into Amanda's little baby sister with that long, qtraight hair of
yours.  I think,,,"  She stepped back, looking down at me
speculatively.  "I think pigtails would be just about perfect!"
     I recoiled in horror.  "Mona, please!  No!" I begged, but
she had already taken her comb and was beginning to part my hair.
Knowing I was helpless to stop her, I could only sit in quiet
suffering as she quickly braided my hair into two pigtails on
either side of my head and attached small, blue ribbons to the
end of each and a third, larger one to the center of my head in
the back.
     Amanda returned in a few minutes with a large box.  She saw
me and clapped her hands with delight.  "Daddy!" she gushed.
"You look so cute in pigtails!"
     I could feel my face getting hot and flushed, and I looked
pleadingly up at Mona, but she merely smiled.  "Daddy's going to
make an adorable little girl," she said to Amanda.  "He'll be
absolutely beautiful!"  She opened the box and produced a light
blue dress and white slip.  "I think these should be about
right," she mused.  "You were about Daddy's height when you were
five and eight months, although you were a little bigger than he
is, so we may have to take in the bust and waist a bit, but that
should be no problem."  Placing her huge hands around my waist,
she effortlessly lifted me off the vanity seat, set me on my feet
next to the bed and, sitting down on it, deftly removed my apron.
"Lift your arms, dear," she ordered me, and, despite my humiliation
and shame at what was being done to me, I knew I had no
choice but to silently obey.
     "Aren't you going to take off Daddy's panties, Mommy?"
Amanda asked as Mona draped her white slip over my shoulders and
smoothed its satiny fabric down my slender body to cover me to
just above my hips.
     "No, dear," Mona replied.  "His own panties match your dress
pretty well and should look all right.  Besides, your old panties
are probably too big for him."
     "But they'll show under my dress, and they should be white
to match my slip.  You could take them in."
     "I know, dear, but we'll just have to make do with what we
have."  Mona ran her huge hands gently along the slip, sending
tingling sensations through my trembling body.  "I don't think
I'm going to have to take this in at all," she murmured.  "It's a
little loose through the chest and waist, but otherwise it's
perfect.  And," she added to me, her eyes suddenly heavy lidded,
"you do look adorably sexy in it, darling!"
     I didn't say anything.  I couldn't.  I was experiencing the
same conflicting sensations I had felt that first night in Mona's
condo when she had forced me to wear the frilly, blue nightie
that was now my nightly attire.  I'd gotten used to that.  But
now, here I was, a grown man in my thirties, my hair in bows and
pigtails, dressed in a slip which had been too small for my
daughter at the age of six, and about to be transformed, right in
front of her, into the image of her pretty, little, baby sister!
I was being humiliated in a way I felt no man ever should, and
yet that very humiliation was all but overwhelmed by waves of
sexual desire which were flooding my body from the soft, clinging
touch of the satiny slip against my skin.  At that point I wasn't
sure whether I was going to orgasm or burst into tears!
     The dress was next, lowered over my head and forcibly up-
lifted arms, buttoned up the back and wide sash tied into a huge
bow behind the full, pleated skirt which only partially covered
my panties, and my transformation was complete.  Mona turned me
around several times to admire her handiwork with those heavy
lidded eyes, then marched me over to the full length mirror on
the closet door and stood me in front of her, towering behind me
in her 7" heels, the top of my head reaching just below her
breasts.  "Doesn't Daddy make a beautiful little girl!?!" she
exclaimed to Amanda, and the huskiness in her voice suggested
that my appearance was really turning her on. 
     Knowing that Mona liked her men small, soft and feminine, I
could understand why, for the vision that stared back at me from
the mirror might have turned me on if I hadn't known it was me!
With my delicate features, smooth skin and slender body, I could
easily have passed for a lovely, little girl were it not for my
height, and, with Mona towering behind me, even my height seemed
understated.  With this, the soft caress of the slip on my body,
the feel of Mona's huge hands around my waist turning me and then
lifting me to hold me high in the air at arm's length, and the
flushed look of sexual desire on her face as she drank me in with
her eyes, my feeling of humiliation was completely submerged in
my own desire.  And, as my penis snapped erect, hard and throbbing
against my panties, I suddenly realized what I think I had
known all along, but never accepted: that I LIKED the feel of
feminine clothes on my body!
     Moving with almost feverish haste, Mona carried me over to
the tripod on which the camcorder was sitting and deposited me in
front of it, next to Amanda.  For the next several minutes,
accompanied by a dialogue about how "Little Baby Daddy" had been
transformed into Amanda's "beautiful, little baby sister", I was
lifted, petted and cuddled by my Amazonian daughter before the
camera, and then, when Mona joined the scene, by my Amazonian
wife as they handed me back and forth between them like a rag
doll.  By the time Mona switched off the camcorder, both she and
I were feverish with desire, and even Amanda, for all her child-
like innocence, seemed strangely affected.  Mona was already
stripping when Amanda left, and she had barely closed the bedroom
door behind her when Mona plucked me off my feet, literally tore
off my panties and threw me on the bed and ravaged me as never
before.
     Later, as I lay cuddled against Mona's giant body, feeling
so small, safe and content in her mighty arms, I knew my life had
changed, and that after tonight Amanda would no longer be subject
to my authority.  How much it would change, however, not even I
could imagine in my wildest dreams!

[uk1012uk]

                   Part 3 - Amanda From 8 to 14

     The next morning I got up early, as usual, to make Mona's
breakfast and see her off at 6:30 to open the gym at 7:00.  She
was running a bit late, and hardly said a word to me as she
wolfed down her meal and, after picking me up for a quick kiss,
hurried out the door.  I was in the kitchen cleaning up when, a
few minutes later, Amanda came downstairs, still dressed in her
nightie and looking like the a giant cat that was about to
swallow a very small canary--me!
     "Mommy and I talked after you went to sleep last night," she
said.  "She told me that from now on I can be boss at home when
she's not here."
     "Oh?" I didn't look at her, but concentrated on the dishes I
was doing.  "She didn't say anything to me this morning about
that."
     "You can call her and ask her."  She came up behind me, put
her big hands on my shoulders and turned me to face her, then
slid her hands under my armpit and lifted me up to set me on the
counter.  "I'm going up to take my shower, now," she told me,
putting a thick forefinger against my nose.  "When I come out I
want you to be in my bedroom waiting for me to help me get
dressed for school."
     I flushed.  "Amanda," I said seriously, "I really don't
think that's a very good idea."
     She looked at me curiously.  "Why not?"
     "Well..."  I hesitated.  Mona had made it clear that
explaining the facts of life to Amanda was her job, not mine, and
that she was still too young to understand.  "Well, ah," I
finished lamely, "I just don't think it's a good idea.  Why don't
we wait, and you can ask Mommy why when she gets home tonight?"
     "No!"  The tone of her childlike voice precluded further
argument, and she proceeded to tell me the clothes she wanted to
wear that day and where they were stored.  "You better be there
with my stuff ready when I come out of the shower," she warned me
over her shoulder as she was leaving.  "Mommy said if you weren't
a good little Daddy I could spank you and make you stand in the
corner!"
     I choked.  There was absolutely no doubt of my giant
daughter's ability to carry out her threat.  I have to admit that the
idea of a grown man being spanked like a naughty child by his
eight year old daughter was erotic enough to get my genes up and
running, but it was also kind of scary.  I couldn't help but
wonder if she was getting back at me for the last two years,
during which Mona had required that she be subject to the author-
ity of a father she could have easily overpowered with one hand.
I had been wise enough not to abuse that authority; all I had
really done was forbid her from mauling me about and require that
she make her bed and keep her room picked up so that it could be
more easily cleaned.  Nevertheless, during the past few months I
had seen a budding resentment in her over even those modest
mandates.  Now, it seemed, the tables were about to be turned
with a vengeance, and I couldn't help but wonder what lay in
store for me.
     It didn't take long for me to find out.  Mona would not have
arrived at the gym yet, so I had no choice but to go up to her
room.  Her bed a mess, and a huge pile of dirty laundry lay in
the middle of the floor.  I hurriedly straightened out the bed so
that I could find the clean clothes she wanted and spread them
out for her, and was waiting for her when she emerged from the
shower, stark naked!  She strode across the room and, looming
over me, commanded, "Dress me!"
     I was literally shaking, both from the sight of this tower-
ing, Amazonian child whose giant body, under its ever thinning
layer of baby fat, was just beginning to show the solid, curva-
ceous lines and massive, sculpted muscularity she would carry
into womanhood, and apprehension over where this was going to
end.  I had to kneel before her to slide her panties over one
foot, then the other, up her huge, shapely calves and thighs, and
around solid, mammoth buttocks and still thick waist, and then
climb up on the bed to drape her slip and dress over her head and
down over shoulders wide enough for me to sit on.  When I had
finished buttoning her up and tying the big bow behind her back,
she lifted me off the bed, set me on my feet, and then sat down
on the bed and pointed to her feet.  "Shoes and socks," she said
simply.
     I retrieved both and, kneeling before her again and with my
hands still shaking, slipped them over feet that were almost
twice the size of my own.  She stood up, took both my hands in
one of hers, walked me over to her vanity, sat down at it and
ordered me to comb her hair, which I did as best I could.  After
studying herself in the mirror, and apparently satisfied with
what she saw, she rose to her feet and reached down to take my
face in her big, childlike hand and force my head back.  "Now,
Daddy," she smiled, "you can go down and make my breakfast while
I get my books ready for school."
     She told me what she wanted to eat, and I had it ready for
her when she came down.  She ate leisurely, and, when it was time
to leave, she threw her book bag over one shoulder and then bent
down to wrap her free arm around my thighs, lift me off the floor
and carry me to the front door.
     "Now, Daddy," she told me firmly, as if she were the adult
and I were the child, "I want you to make my bed and do my
laundry and put it away and clean my room first, and then you can
do everything else Mommy wants you to do.  And you better have
everything done when I get home at four, or I'm gonna get very
mad at you."
     "Why?" I asked.  "What happens at four?"
     She grinned.  "I want to play with my little, baby sister,"
she told me.  "Now, put your arms around my neck and give me a
great, big kiss goodbye, 'cause I gotta go."
     I did as I was told, and she put me down and started out the
door.  Then, suddenly, she turned and, flashing me a big smile,
exclaimed, "Isn't this fun, Daddy?  I just love being the boss!"
     "I'm sure you do," I muttered under my breath at her
retreating back, and thirty seconds later was on the phone with
Mona.  "What the hell did you tell that girl last night?" I fumed
after I had explained what had happened.  "She's treating me like
a goddam slave!"
     There was a moment of silence.  Then Mona answered, "Well,
after last night you really didn't expect things to stay the
same, did you?"
     "Of course I didn't!  But I didn't expect anything like
this!  Mona, for Chrissake, she's only eight years old!  Couldn't
you have waited a couple more years, until she was a little older
and more mature?"
     I heard Mona sigh.  "I really couldn't, darling," she said
finally.  "Amanda's gotten so much bigger and stronger than you
that she was really beginning to resent your authority over her.
I felt I had to open the door for her while I could still lay
down the rules and be sure she'd follow them when I wasn't there
to enforce them."
     "Some rules!" I sputtered.  "Like, she can spank me and
stand me in a corner when I don't do everything she says!  And
make me dress her from scratch--my God, Mona, she pranced into
the bedroom right in front of me completely nude!  Can you
imagine how horrified and disgusted I felt, getting turned on by
my own eight year old daughter?!?"
     I could almost feel Mona's grin through the receiver.
"Well, you shouldn't feel guilty about that, baby," she told me.
"After all, she's a big, strong, beautiful girl, and you ARE only
a man.  You probably couldn't help yourself."
     "Mona!  Dammit, this is NOT funny!"
     Her voice got suddenly serious.  "Mmmm.  You're right.  I'm
sorry.  I'll talk to her about that tonight."
     "Tonight won't be soon enough.  You've got to call her at
school today and lay down the law.  Otherwise, she says she's
going to do a repeat of last night, dress me up in her old
dresses when she gets home!  And I'm nowhere near big or strong
enough to stop her!"
     Mona giggled.  "I thought you kind of enjoyed being dressed
up last night," she murmured.
     I couldn't believe she was really that dense.  "Mona," I
pleaded, "think about it!  It turned me on, dammit!  And you
heard what she said about the panties--more than likely, she'll
want to strip me to the buff!"
     There was another moment's silence.  Then Mona said, "I'll
try to reach her right away."
     "Thank you!"
     I slammed down the receiver and stood there, trembling.
There were times, and this was one of them, when I wondered
whether the delights of being the weaker sex in a household of
Amazonian giantesses were worth the aggravations.  Yet, deep
down, I knew I could not have had it any other way.  I loved Mona
deeply, and was sure that, in her own way, she loved me.  And the
feeling of being cuddled in her mighty, protective arms, pressed
tightly against her magnificently muscled, sculptured body,
always seemed to make everything all right for both of us.
     If only she were here now!

[uk1012uk]

It took me a few minutes to calm down, and then I poured
myself a cup of coffee and drank it slowly.  Hopefully Mona would
be able to straighten this out, but I couldn't count on that.
She might not be able to reach Amanda, or if she did, Amanda
might ignore her.  Either way, I knew I had better have
everything done by the time my daughter arrived home.
     I finished my coffee and went upstairs to make Amanda's bed
and throw her dirty laundry in the washer, and then spent the
next several hours cleaning the entire house, including Amanda's
bedroom.  While the last load of laundry was going through the
dryer, I put the previous day's records from the gym into the
system and issued the necessary instructions to our electronic
bill paying service to ensure the gym's outstanding bills were
paid on time.  I had just finished putting Amanda's cleaned
clothes away in their proper drawers when I heard the front door
open and Amanda call out, "Daddy!  I'm home!  Where are you?"
     I looked at my watch.  It was only three thirty.  I went
downstairs to see her standing in the living room looking through
the day's mail.  She saw me and swept me up in her powerful arms
to give me a hug and kiss that left me breathless, and then set
me back on my feet.
     "You're home early," I commented when I got my wind back.
"What happened?"
     She laughed.  "Oh, I forgot," she replied.  "We went on a
field trip to the planetarium today and got back a half hour
early, so they sent us home.  I knew about it, but I forgot it
was today."
     My heart sank.  "Then you didn't talk to your mother?"
     "No."  She gave me a curious look.  "They said she called,
but the bus to the planetarium was waiting when we got to school,
and I couldn't call her back.  Same when we got back from the
planetarium."
     I looked up at her earnestly.  "Amanda," I said, "please do
me a favor.  Let's call her right now."
     "Why, Daddy?"
     "She and I talked after you left for school.  She needs to
talk to you as soon as possible."
     She put her hands on her hips and looked down at me sternly.
"You didn't talk her into changing anything, did you, Daddy?  I
wouldn't like that."
     I thought fast.  "Not really," I said.  "But there are some
things she didn't tell you last night that she wants you to know
before this situation gets too far out of hand."
     "Like what?"
     "I'm not really sure of everything she has in mind.  Anyway,
don't you think it would mean more to you if you heard it directly from her?"
     She grimaced.  "I suppose so.  Okay, you can call her."  She
hesitated.  "Oh, Daddy," she added, "I just remembered.  You DID
do everything I told you to do, didn't you?"
     "Everything."  I grabbed the phone and dialed the gym.  To
my dismay, Sophia, Mona's assistant gym manager, answered the
phone and told me that Mona was out and not expected back before
closing; nor had she said where she was going.  I hung up and,
with some trepidation, turned to face Amanda, who was grinning
widely down at me.
     "Guess that's that," she chirped.  "Goin' upstairs to
change.  You wait right here, Daddy.  I'll be right back."
     She was back in a few minutes wearing her workout clothes,
shorts and a halter.  "My room looks real nice, Daddy," she told
me, and, plucking me off my feet like a sack of laundry, tucked
me securely under one arm with both my arms pinned to my sides
and carried me down to the basement gym, where she set me on a
high stool.  "I know you never want to watch me work out, Daddy,"
she said, patting my cheek, "but from now on you're going to.
Every day!"
     Knowing I was as helpless as a baby before the muscular
power of this giant girl-child, I could only sit and watch in
open mouthed wonder as she finished warming up and then lay on
her back on the bench to hoist a huge, 200 lb. barbell off the
rack above it and pump it up and down about a dozen times.  The
effort caused the muscles of her arms and chest to swell and
bulge below the thin layer of baby fat covering her body.  Noting
my amazement, she laughed and said, "I could bench more weight if
you were strong enough to spot me, Daddy."  To illustrate her
point, she stood up, stepped behind the rack at the end of the
bench, and heaved that same barbell to hold it, her arms fully
extended, high over her head!  Lowering the barbell to shoulder
level, she squatted down far enough that she could return it to
the rack, and proceeded to complete her free weight workout with
the same unbelievable results--400 lb. squats, 170 lb. double arm
curls and 90 lb. single arm curls, to describe just a few!--
before repairing to the machines to complete her exercises.  By
this time perspiration was pouring off her massive body.
     "Time to jump in the pool to cool off, Daddy," she chirped
and stripped off her halter and shorts to stand, completely
naked, in front of me.  Before I could react, she plucked me off
the stool to tuck me under her one arm again and carry me upstairs
and out the sliding doors to the backyard pool.
     "Amanda," I pleaded, "let me go get my swimming trunks."
     She looked at me curiously.  "What for?  It's just us here,"
she replied and proceeded to undo and remove my apron.  Transfer-
ring me to her other arm so she could hold me face down with my
head to the rear, she deftly stripped my panties down over my
legs and feet and dropped them to the ground.  I started to
struggle, but she simply removed her arm from around my waist and
slid her hand under my chest as she simultaneously gripped my
buttocks with her other hand and swung me out to hold me in front
of her with my back to her and my feet thrashing helplessly
almost a foot off the ground.  "Ready for a dunking, Daddy?" she
laughed, and, with a heave, tossed my naked body high in the air
out into the middle of the pool.
     I landed flat, in a classic belly flop, and went under.  As
I came up, sputtering, she was there, pinning both my arms to my
sides with her hands and holding me at arm's length facing her in
water well over my head, but shallow enough that she could stand
comfortably.  "Got a kiss and a hug for me, Daddy?" she teased,
and proceeded to dunk me until I finally agreed.  As she released
my arms, I reached out to put them around her neck, and she
pulled me against her, wrapped her arms around my waist and
crushed me to her with a force that expelled the air from my
lungs and left me gasping for breath while she covered my face
with wet, childlike kisses.
     I struggled as best I could against her overwhelming
strength, pushing against her big shoulders with my small hands
as hard as I could and trying to tell her she was crushing me,
but, with no air in my lungs, I could only silently mouth my
protests.  The world started to spin around me, and then I must
have blacked out, for the next thing I remember Amanda was
sitting on one of the deck chairs with my naked body laying face
up across her lap.  She was looking down at me, obviously frightened.
     "Are you all right, Daddy?" she asked anxiously.  "I didn't
mean to hug you so hard!  Honest!"
     "I--I'm okay, Amanda," I managed to gasp.  "Just let me get
my breath."
     "Oh, Daddy!  I'm so glad!  I was afraid I'd hurt you!"  She
tucked my head against her shoulder and held me close to her, but
more gently this time, as I slowly recovered.  Then, suddenly
realizing that my nakedness was leaving me completely open to her
inspection, I tried to slide off her lap, but she held me fast.
     "Are you sure you're all right, Daddy?" she asked.
     "I'm fine, Amanda.  Now please let me go so I can put my
panties on!"
     "Daddy?"
     "Yes?"
     "What's that between your legs?  Is that your wee-wee?"
     Her voice had all the innocence of one seeing for the first
time in the flesh what previously had been gleaned only from
books and pictures, and I braced myself.  "Yes, Amanda," I
replied tersely.  "Now, PLEASE let me go."  Instead, her brow
knotted in genuine curiosity, she reached down to explore her new
discovery.  I grabbed her wrist with both my hands and strained
to push her away, but she barely seemed to notice my efforts.
"Amanda!" I snapped.  "Please don't touch me there!"
     "Why not, Daddy?"
     "It's..." I struggled to find the right words.  "It's not
nice, and your mother would be very angry."
     She shook her head, perplexed now.  "No, she wouldn't," she
said.  "She said I could play with you."
     "Not that way, Amanda, I'm sure!"
     But her thick, probing fingers continued to fondle my penis
and testicles, and were beginning to have the predictable effect,
despite my attempts to prevent it.  Even the revulsion at the
thought of being masturbated by my own daughter could not stem
the growing sensations of desire which were flooding my loins.
Suddenly her eyes widened, and she exclaimed, "Daddy!  Guess
what?  It's getting bigger and stiffer!  Why's it doing that?"
     I was getting desperate.  Where the hell was Mona?  "Aman-
da!" I almost screamed, "Please stop!  You don't understand what
you're doing to me!  Your mother will explain all of that to you
when she gets home!"
     To my relief, she stopped, but looked down at me, perplexed
again.  "I wasn't hurting you, was I?" she asked.  "I don't think
I was hurting you."  Then, unexpectedly, she shrugged.  "Okay,"
she chirped.  "I'd rather take you upstairs and dress you up,
anyway!"
     She got up off the lounge, lifting me with her, and, holding
me cradled tightly in her powerful arms, carried me into the
house and up the stairs to her room and backed the door closed
behind her.  Setting me on my feet, she retrieved the box marked
"5-8" and opened it.  As she did, I made a break for the door,
but I had to get past her to do so, and she caught me around the
waist with a single arm, swung me off my feet and tucked my naked
body securely under her armpit.
     "Naughty, little Daddy!" she admonished me.  "You try to run
away again and I'll spank you and make you stand in the corner!"
     Holding me helpless under her one arm, with her free hand
she selected a pink dress and slip.  She sat down on the bed,
stood me in front of her and draped the slip, and then the dress,
over my head and shoulders and smoothed them down over my body
until they barely covered my buttocks, leaving my genitals
completely exposed.  I tried to reach into the box for a pair of
panties to cover myself, but she blocked me.  "No, Daddy," she
told me firmly, "I like you this way," and swept me back up in
her arms to carry me over to a large chair in the corner of the
room, plop into it and cuddle me securely on her lap.  "Does my
little Daddy like being my baby sister?" she cooed, and, to my
horror, her hand again found its way to my crotch and began to
toy with my penis.  "Let's see if I can make this big and hard
again," she gurgled.

[uk1012uk]

This time there was no stopping her, and, cuddled against
her massive chest with her hand playing its innocent, intimate
game with my manhood, my mind and body were soon writhing in
ecstasy and my shaft hard and throbbing.  I pleaded with her, but
she merely giggled and told me, "Don't be silly, Daddy.  Mommy
said we know what's best for you.  Besides, she said I should
love you and do nice things for you, and I can tell you like
this!"
     I did my best.  I tried everything to keep my mind from the
ecstasy of the moment, but my body could respond only to the
intimate, childlike caresses to which it was being subjected.
Moments later I exploded, covering my daughter's hand and my
thighs with wet, sticky semen.
     Amanda gasped.  "Daddy!  Shame on you!" she shrieked.  "You
wet all over me, just like a little baby!"  She sprang to her
feet, dumping me on the floor, and ran into the bathroom to wash
her hands, returning as I was sheepishly cleaning myself with
panties I'd retrieved from the open box.  "Bad, little Daddy!"
she cried, "Daddy's gonna get his bottom spanked for that!" and
snatched me up off the floor to carry me to the bed, plump
herself down on it and slam me face down across her massive
thighs.
     I'm not sure what was worse, the humiliation of a grown man
being masturbated and spanked by his giant, eight year old
daughter or the searing pain that coursed through my helpless
body as her open hand descended again and again with piledriver
force on my exposed buttocks.  I screamed, kicked and writhed
helplessly against the girder-strong arm that encircled my chest
and kept me firmly in place, but could not so much as slow the
tempo of her stinging blows, and the spanking continued unabated
until my buttocks were numb and I could only lay limply across
her lap, sobbing uncontrollably.  Finally she stopped, and,
picking me up under one arm again, carried me down the stairs to
the landing where the steps turned in an "L" to the living room
and stood me on my feet facing the corner with my blistered rear
fully exposed and the tears still streaming down my cheeks.
     "Now, you stay right there until Mommy gets home," she
ordered sternly, "or I'm gonna turn you over my knee and spank
you all over again!"
     "Yes, Amanda," I sobbed, knowing that she was fully capable
of carrying out her threat.
     Fortunately Mona came home at five.  Amanda was in her room
playing, and Mona took one look at me, still in Amanda's old
dress, saw my reddened buttocks, and gasped, "Oh, my God, baby!
What happened?"  I couldn't help it; at the sight of her I broke
into tears again, and, without waiting for an answer, she swept
me up in her powerful arms and carried me up to our bedroom.
Sitting down on the bed, she pulled a pillow onto her lap and
then lowered me gently down on it and cuddled me against her with
my head tucked against her shoulder.  "There, there, baby!
Mommy's home, now!" she murmured into my ear in an attempt to
comfort me until my outbreak of sobbing had run its course and I
had calmed down.
     By this time, Amanda had heard us and was standing in the
doorway, dressed in her workout clothes.  "Daddy was very bad
today," she said to Mona.  "I had to spank Daddy today and make
him stand in the corner."
     "I can see that," Mona replied.  "What did he do?"
     Amanda made a little grimace of disgust.  "All I did was
dress him up and play with his little wee-wee, and he wet all
over me!" she explained.  "Made me all wet and sticky!"
     Mona's eyebrows went up a mile, and she looked down at me
with that "I'm waiting!" expression on her face.  I almost
started crying again.  "I swear to God, Mona," I babbled, "I
tried to stop her!  I begged her to stop!  She wouldn't, and I
couldn't get away from her!  I did everything I could to keep
myself from coming, but I couldn't!"
     Mona looked at Amanda.  "Is that true?" she asked.
     Amanda shuffled her feet.  "I guess so," she mumbled.  "He
said you'd be mad, but I didn't believe him.  You did say I could
play with him, didn't you, Mommy?"
     Mona sighed.  "Yes, I did, dear, but I didn't mean that way.
I should have explained that to you.  Come over here, please."
As Amanda, looking suddenly crestfallen, approached the bed, Mona
reached down to slide her huge hand between my thighs and cup my
penis and testicles in her palm.  "You see, dear," she went on,
"this part of Daddy belongs only to Mommy, and only Mommy can
play with it.  You were wrong to have played with Daddy that
way."
     Perplexity knitted Amanda's childlike brow.  "You mean you
play with Daddy like I did?" she asked.  "Yuck!"
     Mona smiled.  "Not quite, dear.  I'll explain it to you when
you're a little older.  For the time being, all you have to know
is that this part of Daddy is strictly off limits to you.  Under-
stood?"
     Amanda looked completely mystified, now.  "I--I guess so,"
she mumbled.  "I guess I shouldn't have spanked Daddy and put him
in the corner, either."
     "That's right, dear.  You see, he couldn't help what he did.
You forced him to wet on you."
     "But--he seemed to like it so much!  I thought I was being
nice to him!"
     Mona chuckled.  "He couldn't help that, either, dear," she
explained.  "You have to keep remembering, Daddy's only a man,
and, like all men, he's weak and helpless.  As women, we can
control him, make him do things he doesn't want to do and even
make him like things he doesn't want to like.  But there are some
things we shouldn't make him do, and what you did to him today
was one of those things."  She stood up and laid me on my back on
the bed.  "So," she added, "I think it's time I started to
explain some of those things to you.  Let's go to your room and
talk, and let Daddy rest in here alone."
     Amanda nodded, and then leaned down to kiss my cheek.  "I'm
real sorry, Daddy," she whispered.  "I should have listened to
you.  Forgive me?"
     "Of course, Amanda."  She was, after all, still my daughter,
my own flesh and blood, and still an innocent.  How could I not
forgive her?
     Mona came back into the bedroom about an hour later with my
panties and apron, which she put on me after administering some
ointment to my sore buttocks.  "I think things will be better
from now on," she assured me.  "I gave her a list of do's and
don't's, and told her that, if she wants to do anything with you
that I haven't covered and you object, she should wait until I
get home.  She understands, and I think she'll go along."  She
sat down next to me on the bed and laid a hand on my cheek.  "I'm
really sorry I couldn't reach her in time.  I even went to the
school on my way to my appointment to try to catch her, but I
missed her.  Unfortunately, I couldn't break my appointment, but
I came home as soon as I could."
     "What kind of an appointment?" I asked.
     "Business.  You wouldn't be interested."  She sighed.  "I
suppose I'm going to have to cook dinner tonight."  Then, with a
grin, she added, "By any chance, will you have anything left for
me later?"
     "Only if I'm on top."
     "Forget it!" she said, with a laugh.  "You might get ideas,
and then I'D have to spank you!"
     Mona was right, however, and things did get better after
that.  Amanda continued to rule the house in her absence, but I
didn't have to dress her in the morning, and she no longer went
about in the nude, even wearing a bathing suit in the pool.  And,
although she continued for a while to make me watch her workouts
and dress me as her "little baby sister", I was always permitted
to keep my panties on, and she soon tired of both games.
     She also continued develop impressively, albeit at a some-
what slower pace.  At age 10 she towered an even 6'5" and weighed
over 250 lbs., and by age 12 she was an inch taller than Mona and
outweighed her by 20 lbs.
     It was at this point I started to worry again, for she had
begun to enter puberty, and her body and personality were chang-
ing noticeably.  The baby fat had long since disappeared and had
been replaced by massive curves of huge, corded muscles that
bulged and rippled in sensuous dances throughout her body as she
moved and all but obscured the small, budding breasts that were
beginning to appear on her wide, deep chest.  Her hands and feet
were even larger than Mona's, and the weights she was lifting
were every bit as heavy as the ones Mona used.  Moreover, over
the following year I saw that she was becoming more aggressive; I
was like a baby to her, and she loved to pick me up in the palm
of a single hand and playfully toss me back and forth from hand
to hand or high in the air to catch me in her palm as I came
down, sometimes gripping me so tightly that I feared her thumb
and fingers would cave in my ribs.  Or she would take me into the
pool and hold me in water that barely reached to her shoulders,
but was well over my head, and laughingly dunk me until I agreed
to put my arms around her neck, and then she would hold me tight
against her and cover my face and neck with innocent, childlike
kisses that became more passionate and adult by the day and often
left me helplessly and shamefully aroused.  In short, she was
fast reaching a stage when even Mona might not be able to handle
her at a time when she might eventually have to, but when I
expressed these concerns to Mona she merely laughed, patted me on
the head and told me not to worry.
     Unfortunately, Amanda was not my only headache.  As the gym
became more and more successful and Mona better known in body-
building circles, she began to travel more frequently, and, with
Amanda still so young, I was not permitted to accompany her.
(This restriction, under other circumstances, would have been
amusing, since Amanda insisted on playing the role of the mother
when Mona was away; each night, when she had decided it was time
for me to go to bed, she would pick me up, carry me upstairs to
dress me in my nightie--always, however, leaving my panties in
place--and then rock me like a baby before putting me to bed.)
But the bodybuilding publications which regularly came to the
house articles would often feature Mona with pictures of her
having dinner or dancing with other men, usually successful
promoters or other, national-level bodybuilders.  Moreover, when
she was in town, on several occasions I had to call her at the
gym during the afternoon and was told that she was out and no one
knew where she was.  After that, I began to call the gym on a
regular basis, and soon learned that her absences were regularly
on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from two thirty to four thirty
in the afternoon.  When I finally asked her about it, I received
the same answer: "Business.  You wouldn't be interested."
     Finally, one evening, I summoned the courage to confront
her.  Almost in tears, I asked her straight out if she were
seeing other men.  "I know how insignificant and puny I must seem
to you," I choked, "and I guess I couldn't blame you if you were
attracted to someone bigger and stronger than me.  But you're my
whole life, my universe.  I have to know if my world is coming to
an end!"
     She started to laugh, then, seeing my state of mind,
suddenly became serious.  She picked me up and held me at arm's
length for a moment, then brought me close to her and, wrapping
her mighty arms around me, hugged me so I could hardly breathe
and kissed me long and hard.  "You poor, darling, little baby!"
she murmured in my ear.  "There is not and never has been anyone
but you since the first day I saw you, and there never will be!
You may be little and puny, but you're NOT insignificant to me!
You're perfect for me, everything I've ever wanted in a man, and
you always will be!  Yes, I see other men on trips, but I keep it
strictly business.  You are, and always will be, the only man in
my life!"
     "Then what are these damned appointments you have every
week?"
     She smiled.  "I can't tell you that, yet, darling," she
replied.  "But I will when the time comes."
     "When will that be?"
     "Soon, I think.  But, until then, I give you my word: I am
not having an affair, nor am I romantically involved, with any
other man!"  She hesitated, then set me on my feet and sat down
on the bed in front of me.  "There is, however, something I do
need to talk to you about."
     "What--what's that?"
     "Amanda came to me the other day.  She wants me to convert
our spare bedroom into a nursery."
     I gaped at her.  "A nursery!  Are you pregnant again?"
     "No," she said solemnly, "it's for you."
     "WHAT?!?"
     "Now, don't panic, darling," she soothed.  "Hear me out."
     "Do I have ANYTHING to say about this?" I choked.
     Mona chuckled.  "Yes, but you may not like the choices.
Now, calm yourself and listen to me."
     My stomach was churning, but, with a supreme effort, I
settled down.  "Okay," I managed to grate.  "I'm listening."
     "In the first place," Mona explained, "you've seen how big
and strong Amanda's gotten--she may be as strong as I am, perhaps
even stronger--and I've been concerned about the way she's been
handling you lately.  She really doesn't know her own strength,
and she could accidentally injure you.  I've tried to explain
that to her, and I think she really tries to be a little careful
with you, but it could still happen.  I've told her that, if I
agree to do this, she has to learn all about baby care--I'll get
her some books and work with her on that--and that she'd have to
always treat you as if you were a real baby.  That means VERY
gently.  She'd be a lot less likely to hurt you.
     "Secondly, I think it might be a good way to teach her the
fundamentals of taking care of a baby.  After all, I do expect
that she's going to be a mother some day--provided, of course,"
she added with a wink, "she can find somebody as little and cute
as you are!--and taking care of you would help prepare her for
that."
     I shook my head in disbelief.  "Mona, for Christ's sake,
this is crazy!  I'm a grown man!  I can't act like a baby, even
for Amanda!"
     "You're forgetting something, dear.  Compared to her, you
ARE like a baby!  You said so yourself."
     "And what about the rule that she's not supposed to see me
naked?"
     Mona pursed her lips.  "I have to admit, that bothered me,"
she replied, "and she and I have talked about that at length.
However, if she thinks of you as a little baby, it should be all
right; I don't think she'll molest you, and, of course, if she
ever does, that will be the end of it!"  She hesitated again, and
then grinned.  "Let's face it, darling, you may be fighting the
idea now, but I have a feeling that you're going to love it!"
     "What in hell makes you think that?" I snapped.
     Her grin widened.  "Well, think about after we take showers
together," she murmured, "when I wrap you up in those big towels
with only your face showing and cuddle you on my lap, just like a
little baby.  You love that, and don't try to tell me you don't!"
     She had a point, and I knew I'd lost again.
     The preparations required several months to complete.  Even
Amanda's oversized baby things, which we still had in storage,
were not quite big enough for me, and Mona had to order a special
crib, playpen, nip'n'nap and changing table for me from her
furniture manufacturer friend, together with baby clothes in my
size from her seamstress.  Adult diapers were, of course, available
commercially.  Amanda was provided with a number of books to
study in her spare time, and each night Mona would spend an hour
or two with her ensuring that she had learned what she needed to
know and instructing her in additional, finer points not in the
books.  As a final step, I was called in for practice sessions,
while Amanda learned how to handle me like an infant, and then to
bathe and change me, all under Mona's watchful and critical eye.
And even I was surprised at her gentleness.
     The furniture and clothing arrived and the nursery was
completed just prior to Amanda's 14th birthday.  Over a year
earlier she had begun to sprout again, and by this time she
towered 7'2" and weighed an astounding 320 muscleladen pounds.
Her physical strength was almost superhuman, and I doubted that
even Mona was a match for her.  I couldn't help but wonder where
all this would end.  Only one thing was certain: my life as an
adult baby was about to begin.

[uk1012uk]

                   Part 4 - Amanda the Woman

     Amanda's transition from child to teenager had not been
painless.  Although bright, personable and precocious, she had
retained much of her "little girl" innocence, incongruous in a
child her size, and had no close friends.  Her beauty, size and
strength had made her an outcast among other girls at school,
most of whom considered her a "freak" and often called her that
behind her back.  And, although some of the boys she knew
secretly admired her and, as we were to learn later, a few even
worshipped her from distance, all them were afraid of her and
kept away from her.  During the days when Mona was at the gym, I
was the only friend and playmate to whom she could turn for
amusement, and, as she reached the later grades and grew bigger
and stronger, I became like a toy to her, almost like one of her
dolls, to be picked up, dressed and cuddled.  I think that, in
part, was what led to her desire to treat me like a baby.
     During her final year in grade school, however, some changes
began to occur.  There were several high schools in our community
to which we could send her, all of which had strong girls' ath-
letic programs, and she was subjected to rigorous recruiting
efforts by the coaches for their basketball and track and field
programs.  One coach even wanted to put her on his wrestling
team, contending that she could become state heavyweight champion
by the end of her freshman year.  During that final year in grade
school, therefore, she found herself subjected to enormous con-
flicts and pressures from which she could find refuge only in her
play time with me and in the powerful, comforting arms of her
mother.
     These problems were further compounded by her gradual expo-
sure of the mysteries of puberty as her body was slowly transformed
from little girl to young woman.  Mona spent considerable
time with her during this period trying to explain what was
happening to her, but, for some reason, Amanda never seemed to
fully comprehend her explanations.  That continued to worry me,
for it had been obvious, when she was playing with me in the pool
and later, during her practice sessions with me as her baby, that
her developing body was experiencing sensations she did not fully
understand.
     Moreover, it was difficult by then to think of Amanda as the
child she still really was.  She was 7'2" and 320 lbs. of mas-
sive, beautiful, curvaceous muscularity, towering over me like a
giant, female colossus, and her measurements were unbelievable.
Her shoulders were so broad she had to turn slightly to pass
through our eight foot doorways, and her chest, even with the
small, budding breasts that were not yet fully developed,
measured a full 60" in circumference.  Her arms were equally
incredible, with rock hard biceps measuring 26", 5" bigger than my
waistline, and forearms of 20", and were long enough that she
could carry my tiny body about in a single arm with my head
resting against her broad shoulder and both my thighs held
securely in her huge hand just below my hips.  Her 36" waist was
a rippling washboard of solid muscle, flaring to tight, rounded
hips; long, 36" thighs and shapely, 28" calves that seemed carved
in solid ivory.  Standing before her as she loomed above me in 7"
heels, with my eyes barely level with her navel, or held aloft
with her huge hands completely encircling my waist, I actually
began to feel and act almost like a baby, and I found myself
becoming more and more aroused in a way I had not experienced
even with Mona as the manner in which she handled me became more
and more adult.
     Within a couple of weeks after the nursery had been com-
pleted we had settled into a daily routine to which I gradually
began to look forward.  I would make sure that all the housework
was done and the gym's records through the previous day duly
entered on system by the time Amanda arrived home from school at
4:30, and would meet her at the door to be swept up into the air,
whirled around, hugged and kissed with all the ardor of a loving
tornado.  After changing into her bikini swim suit, she would
carry me downstairs and make me watch her go through her workout.
I could not help but marvel at the huge barbells she heaved
overhead, weights that would have easily set world weightlifting
records in the men's super heavyweight division.
     Although for a while she had tired of playing with me in the
back yard pool, as she had gotten taller and stronger she had
discovered that, by using wide, extremely heavy, elastic loops to
fold my legs up against my chest and secure my arms to my ankles,
I was about the right size, shape and weight to be used as a
medicine or beach ball!  Thus, when she had completed her exer-
cises, she would put me on her lap and remove my apron and
panties, leaving me completely naked.  One of the elastic loops
had four collars sewn into it in a line next to each other for my
ankles and wrists; this loop she would slip over my head, chest
and arms down to just above my hips, pinning my forearms to my
sides, with the four collars at the back.  Sliding the other loop
up both my legs to behind my knees, she would force my knees up
against my chest and slip the loop over my head and behind my
neck.  Then she would bend my ankles up behind my thighs and,
stretching the loop taut until it reached my ankles, secure them
to the loop's two inner collars.  The two outer collars would be
fastened around my wrists, leaving me folded up in a rough equi-
valent of a ball and unable to so much as move a muscle against
the powerful elastic bands.  Fortunately, I was flexible enough
that the position was not unduly painful, but it was extremely
uncomfortable, and when at first I tried to protest against being
placed in this kind of bondage, she simply shoved one of her
small, toy, rubber balls in my mouth and tied it in place with a
kerchief, effectively stifling my protests while still permitting
me to breathe through this makeshift gag.  Then she would stand
up and, either holding me at arm's length balanced securely in a
single huge hand which covered both of my exposed buttocks or
cradling my tiny, rolled up body against her in the curve of one
mighty arm, effortlessly carry me out to the pool.
     Amazingly, although I had never been (and still am not) into
bondage, I found the feeling of being held in utter helplessness
in the arms and hands of this teenage giantess mildly arousing.
Nevertheless, the sessions in the pool were also a little scary.
After being tossed 15-20 feet through the air--she could easily
have thrown me the length of the pool had she cared to--to land
with a splash and float to the surface always with my head down
under water, I was never sure whether she might inadvertently
drown me, but she invariably was able to swim over to me with
long, powerful strokes and lift me out of the water well before I
ran out of air.  After the first few days of this, we both
complained to Mona, I at being held in bondage by my teenage
daughter, and Amanda that she had no one with whom she could play
catch with me!  Needless to say, Amanda won, and after that, on
the days Mona came home early, the sessions in the pool would be
deferred until her arrival so that these two giant Amazons could
both have fun with their little, male beach ball.  At least, on
those days, with Mona there to ensure that I was properly caught,
I didn't have to worry about being accidentally drowned!
     Later, when we were alone in our bedroom, Mona would make up
for my earlier discomfort in her own, special ways; and yet,
somehow, as afterward I lay cuddled against her powerful body, I
found myself feeling increasingly unsatisfied.  It was not that
yielding to her ardent, aggressive lovemaking was not enjoyable;
it was, and continued to be, but it was not the same as being
cuddled against Amanda's giant frame.  I slowly came to realize
that even Mona's towering 6'7" and 280 lbs. of massive, feminine
muscle could not make me feel as tiny and helpless as being
cradled in the powerful arms of her 7'2", 320 lb., giantess of a
daughter, and that I was actually beginning to prefer the latter.
     Following her workout, or our dip in the pool on those days
Mona worked late or was out of town, Amanda would change into
shorts and a halter, announce that it was "time to give her
Little Baby Daddy a bath", and would carry me into the bathroom. 
Holding me on her lap while (if I was not already naked) she
stripped me to the buff, she would gently place me in a bathtub
of warm water and wash me all over with her huge, gentle hands as
I played with some of her old, floating baby toys which had been
retrieved from storage.  She would have to lift me out of the
water with one hand under my buttocks to wash my lower body, and
the feel of her soapy hands caressing me so intimately invariably
produced a pulsating erection, but she would simply laugh and
scold me, "Naughty, little Daddy!  That part of you belongs to
Mommy!"  And I would look up at her in anguish, wanting, but
unable, to tell her that what I really wished at that moment was
that she would be my Mommy...

[uk1012uk]

Finally, she would lift me out of the bathtub, place me on
one of Mona's oversize towels on her lap and dry me thoroughly,
after which she would wrap my little body in the towel with only
my face showing, and cuddle me tightly against her as she carried
me into the nursery.  Mona had been right.  That was the part I
loved the most; I loved the feeling of being so small, helpless
and so completely dependent in the massive, powerful arms of this
beautiful, teenage giantess who now dwarfed even my Amazonian
wife!  I would beg her, "Please, Mommy, hold me like this some
more," and she would smile condescendingly, sit down in the
rocking chair and, holding me cuddled tightly against her in the
towel, rock me gently as she covered my face with maternal kisses
and whispered, "Does my Little Baby Daddy love his great big
Mommy?  Mommy loves her Little Baby Daddy so much!  So very
much!"  This never failed to produce another, throbbing erection
as spasms of ecstatic desire coursed through my small body.
     Eventually, however, she would tire of rocking me and inform
me that it was time to "get my Little Baby Daddy dressed and
fed."  She would place me on the changing table and, after un-
wrapping me from the towel, cover my naked body with baby powder,
giggling and again rebuking me when she saw my erection.
     First, a specially made, leather harness was placed over my
shoulders and around my chest and waist.  The harness had two
heavy snaps on each side of the strap which encircled my waist
and long straps which extended from my shoulders down my arms and
ended in two loops which were fastened around my arms immediately
above and below my elbows.  Each loop had a heavy ring on the
inside, next to my body, even with the strap around my waist.
Then, turning me over on my back and holding both my feet in the
air, she would slide a disposable adult diaper under me, fasten
it in place, and then cover it with a pair of rubber pants.
After slipping an undershirt over my head, she would select a
ruffled baby dress and bonnet and knit booties, all of which had
been made specially in my size, to complete the ensemble, and
then hold me out at arm's length high off the floor with her huge
hands under my armpits to admire her handiwork and gush "what a
pretty, Little Baby Daddy" I was.
     Next I would be deposited in the nip'n'nap and strapped
securely in place with my arms pinned to my sides while she
disappeared into the kitchen to prepare my bottle of warm, skim
milk and jar of baby food.  I hated both, but it was part of the
game, and I had no choice but to comply.  Returning, she would
feed me from the jar first with a small, baby spoon, cooing "what
a good, Little Baby Daddy he is to eat all his vegies", and then
carry me back to the rocker, where she would lay me on her lap in
the curve of one arm and, while rocking me gently, force the
bottle's nipple into my mouth.  At first I tried to reject it,
but she held it firmly in place and warned me that it was going
to stay there until I drank all my milk, and I finally gave up
further efforts at resistance and obediently suckled the nipple.
After half the bottle had been drained, she would lift me off her
lap, lay me over her shoulder, and pat me on my back until I
burped, and then lay me back down to finish my bottle, when she
would burp me again and then continue to rock me "until his
little tummy settles."
     At that point I would be placed on my back in the oversize
play pen.  She would pull the snaps on the leather harness under
my undershirt and dress through small holes which had been cut in
each, fasten them to the rings on the leather loops at my elbows,
effectively pinning my arms to my sides, and then to rings in the
steel floor of the play pen, ensuring that I could not get up off
my back or even roll over.  Finally, she would insert an oversize
pacifier into my mouth and strap it firmly in place with an
elastic band around the back of my head under my baby bonnet.
About all I was able to do was wiggle around on my back and make
gurgling sounds just like a real baby, which seemed to delight
her as she leaned over me making cooing sounds, playfully tickling
my stomach or under my chin and otherwise toying with my
helpless body.
     On the nights Mona worked late, this is where I would stay
until she arrived home; when she came home early enough for
dinner, Amanda would release me in time to have their meals
ready, after which I would become their toy beach ball in the
pool.  The crib was reserved for nights in which Mona was out of
town; Amanda would make me spend the night there, releasing me in
the morning in time to have her breakfast ready and see her off
to school.
     Despite the discomfort of my periods of bondage, I found
myself getting more and more deeply involved in my adult infancy,
to the point that, in Mona's absence, I actually began to regard
my giant daughter as my "Mommy" and sought to please her in every
way I could, seeking as my only reward the rapture of being
cuddled in her massive arms.  To my credit (if there can be any
credit at all in such feelings), I was able to resist the
increasing urge for self gratification--having sex with Amanda
was still unthinkable--until I could be alone with Mona, who
seemed delighted by the gradual increase in our sexual activity
and laughingly commented that, "If this is what it does for you,
I should have gotten you into this years ago!"  I don't think she
realized until later that she was becoming an increasingly poor--
albeit necessary--substitute for her giant, teenage daughter.
     Still, I knew deep down that this could not go on much
longer.  The end, when it came, came suddenly.  It began late one
afternoon as, wrapped in the usual towel following my bath and
almost feverish with desire, I lay cuddled in Amanda's lap on the
rocking chair.  Amanda smiled down at me and asked, "Would
Mommy's Little Baby Daddy like his Mommy to breast feed him?"
     Alarm bells went off in my head.  Where had she gotten this
idea?  Mona had undoubtedly let her read at least one chapter too
much!  I started to shake my head violently, but, without waiting
for an answer, she had already bared a budding breast and was
jamming the nipple deep down into my open mouth, cutting off my
protest.  I tried to jerk back and turn my head away, but it was
already sandwiched tightly between her massive bicep and forearm.
With my arms pinned to my sides inside the towel, I could not
repel that invading nipple with my mouth alone.  I could have
bitten her breast, but the thought of hurting her in any way--and
the realization of what she might do to me if I did--killed that
idea in a hurry.  Even worse, the firm flesh filling my mouth was
causing my saliva to flow, forcing me to regularly contract my
mouth in order to swallow and keep from choking, a movement that
was dangerously close to a suckling action.
     It had its effect almost immediately.  I felt, rather than
heard, her sigh, and then moan softly as feelings which she had
experienced only slightly and in passing during her entry into
puberty now coursed through her giant body with an intensity that
must have been terrifying to her.  "Oh, Daddy!" she moaned.  "I
feel so funny down below!  Make it go away!"
     Suddenly, I was no longer her baby.  She was a little girl
again, almost a toddler, frightened and unsure of herself.  I was
still like a toy to her, but I was also a father, expected to
cure an unfamiliar ill.  And I knew what was coming next, the
game that parents play with their children to make them feel safe
and protected, that Mona and I had played with Amanda when she
was a toddler, yet a game that, done here, could change both of
us forever...
     Even though I knew what her next words would be, when they
came my stomach was still jolted by the sheer disgust at what I
knew I was going to be forced to do.
     "Daddy!  Kiss it and make it well!"
     Before I could react, she had rolled me off her lap, dumping
me naked on my hands and knees on the floor, and had torn off her
shorts.  Gripping my shoulders with both hands, she lifted me up
between her massive thighs and, transferring her grip to my head,
crammed my face up into her cleft, knowing only that this was the
source of the strange feelings pulsating through her great body.
I struggled to pull away, but my short arms could not so much as
reach around her huge thighs; even had I the strength to pull
myself away, I had no leverage.  Then she locked her legs around
my neck, and for a moment I thought my head would be crushed by
the pressure of her rock hard thighs.  Then, as those strange,
frightening feelings became spasms of ecstasy, she gasped and
spread her legs so she could work my face deeper into her cleft.
By then, barely conscious of what was happening to me, my mind
reeling from the musk odor of her desire that filled my senses
and the wetness of her vaginal juices covering my face, it was
all I could do to breathe, let alone continue to resist.  I felt
her great body shudder and heard a little cry as she reached the
first plateau of pleasure, and then another and another, and
then, with a scream that shook the house, her body convulsed in
paroxysm after paroxysm of ecstasy as my face was flooded with
her juices.  She continued to work me, milking the last remnants
of her pleasure from my face, and it was only after the sensations
had completely subsided and the residual sensitivity of her
clit dissipated that she released me.  I fell on my back on the
towel, gasping for breath, too exhausted and drained to even try
to clean her wetness from my face.
     "Oh, Daddy!" she gasped.  "That was so wonderful!  What was
that?"
     I couldn't answer her.  I was sick to my stomach, over-
whelmed with disgust and shame at the realization that I had been
face raped by this innocent child, my child, and that her first
real orgasm had come from me, her father.  No matter that I was
like a toy to her physically, I should have seen it coming and
taken steps to prevent it.  Mona should have seen it coming and
stopped it.  Both of us should have seen it coming...but now it
was too late.  At the tender age of 14 she had tasted the pleasures
of the body, and from me, her father!  What effect would it
have on her?  And what could anyone, even Mona, do to stop her
from using me again and again as her personal sex toy?
     "Daddy!  Are you all right?  Please talk to me!  Tell me
what that wonderful thing was!  Please!"
     Her voice brought me back to my senses.  Stumbling to my
feet, I pulled the towel around me and wiped my face clean.
"Amanda," I whispered, "I don't feel well.  Please, I have to go
lie down.  Ask your mother when she comes home.  She'll tell
you."  And I staggered from the nursery and down the hall to my
bedroom and flopped on the bed with the towel my only covering.
     A few moments later Amanda appeared, looming over my bed as
she leaned over me, her face set.  "Daddy," she said, "are you
all right?  I didn't hurt you, did I?"
     "No, Amanda.  I'll be all right.  I just have to lie down
for a little while," I whispered.
     "Daddy," she said firmly, "I want to do that again with you,
as soon as you feel better."
     I closed my eyes in despair.  "Amanda," I whispered, "please
understand.  I can't.  If you do that to me again, you could hurt
me, very badly."
     "I'll be careful.  I won't hurt you.  You tell me as soon as
you feel better, ok?"  She put a huge hand on my shoulder and
squeezed it painfully.  "I'll be very mad at you if you don't,"
she warned, and left the room.
     Fortunately, Mona came home earlier than usual that night
still wearing her gym tights and found me lying on the bed, half
asleep.  Leaning down to kiss me, concern showing on her face,
she asked, "What's the matter, baby?  Are you sick?"
     "No.  I'm all right."
     Those words were all I could manage.  The next thing I knew
I had burst into tears and was sobbing uncontrollably.
     "Baby!"  Mona exclaimed.  "What's wrong?  Did something
happen today?"
     I couldn't answer her through my tears.  My eyes were closed
tightly, but I felt her remove the towel and then her hands on my
body, gently lifting me and wrapping me in the towel and then
picking me up off the bed to cradle my small body in her powerful
arms and carry me downstairs.  Sitting down on the couch and
cuddling me tightly to her on her lap, she pressed my head
against her shoulder.  "There, there, baby," she murmured soothingly
as near hysterical sobs continued to rack my body, "Mommy's
here, now.  Everything's going to be all right.  Have a good cry
and get it all out of your system so you can tell Mommy what this
is all about."
     Her soothing words and the feel of her arms around me,
pressing me to her, helped, and gradually I was able to get
myself under control.  I looked up at her lovely face so close
above my own, and the anguish I felt must have shown in my face
as I wailed, "Oh, Mona!  I'm so ashamed!"
     "Shhhhh..." She put a finger to my lips.  "You don't have to
feel ashamed.  I know that whatever happened today couldn't have
been your fault.  You're the sweetest, most precious, little man
I've ever known.  Now, snuggle up to Mommy.  Mommy will take care
of you until you're ready to tell her what happened."
     I heaved a long, shaky sigh and was burying my face in her
neck when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amanda standing at
the bottom of the stairs.  She walked over to the chair and
looked down at us, her face a frozen mask.
     "Is Daddy all right?" she asked.
     "He's fine, dear," Mona replied.  "He just needs to settle
down.  Did you do something to him to get him so upset?"
     Amanda ignored the question.  "Then give him to me, Mommy,"
she said.  "I want to take him upstairs and play with him."
     My stomach did a flip flop, but Mona merely smiled.  "Not
now, dear.  Mommy's home, now, and when Mommy's home Mommy plays
with Daddy.  Remember?"
     "No, I want him," Amanda said firmly.  "You give him to me
or I'll take him."
     "Oh?"  Mona's eyebrows went up.  "Really?  And what will you
do with him if you do?"
     "What I did this afternoon.  It made me feel so good!"
     "And what was that, dear?"
     "I made him kiss me between my legs.  It felt so good!"
Amanda put her hands on her hips and glared at her mother.  "You
give him to me, now, Mommy, or I'm going to take him away from
you.  I'm a lot bigger and stronger than you are, and you know I
can do it!"
     "I see."  Mona stood up with me still wrapped in the towel
and cradled in her arms and smiled down at me.  The anguish I had
felt before was now submerged in terror at what was happening
between these two giantesses, and it must have shown in my face,
for she bent her head to kiss me lightly on my forehead.  "Poor
baby," she whispered.  "Now I understand."  Then she turned her
attention to Amanda, looking up at her giant daughter towering
over half a head above her.  "Amanda," she said evenly, "if you
try to take Daddy away from me, I'm going to try to stop you, and
we could wind up injuring his weak, little body.  We certainly
don't want to do that, do we?  Instead, let's all three of us go
downstairs to the wrestling mat right now.  If you can beat me
down there, you can take Daddy and do whatever you want with him.
All right?"

[uk1012uk]

Amanda frowned, but the idea obviously made sense to her.
"Ok," she replied, and whirled to go downstairs.
     I gaped up at Mona, my entire body shaking.  But she smiled
and bent her head to kiss me lightly.  "Don't worry, baby," she
told me softly.  "I can handle her.  I've been expecting this,
and I've been preparing for it.  You'll be all right."
     "But she's so much bigger and stronger than you are!" I
quavered.
     Mona chuckled as she carried me downstairs.  "She's going to
need more than just size and muscle to beat me," she told me.
     Amanda was waiting for us on the heavy mat that covered
almost half the gym floor.  Mona set me on a chair on one side of
the room, away from the mat, and then turned to face her daughter. 
"Amanda," she said evenly, "I'm probably going to have to
hurt you to settle this.  I don't want to, but you're giving me
no choice.  Just remember, I'm your mother, and I love you very
much and always will.  Do you understand that?"
     For the first time, uncertainty showed on Amanda's face.
"You're not big or strong enough to hurt me, Mommy," she said,
but her voice lacked the conviction of her words.
     "We'll see," Mona replied, and, as I watched in abject
terror, the two giantesses squared off.
     They locked hands in a test of strength.  For a few moments
the battle seemed even.  Then, slowly, Amanda began to force her
mother back and down.  At that point, something happened that I
couldn't follow.  Mona became a blur of motion, and Amanda's
giant body somersaulted through the air to come down on her back
on the mat with a crash that shook the house.  For a second she
lay there, dazed and uncomprehending, and in that second Mona was
upon her, kneeling on her right shoulder from the side and twist-
ing her right arm up and back into a painful armlock.  Amanda
struggled, but the combination of Mona's strength and her lever-
age advantage was too much for her.  She couldn't reach Mona with
her free hand, nor could she force herself off the mat; she was
completely helpless.
     "You're hurting me, Mommy!" she cried.
     "I warned you I might have to, dear," Mona replied.  "Do you
submit?"
     "Do--do I get another chance?"
     "Of course, dear," Mona smiled.  She released her and stood
up, and Amanda slowly rose to her feet, massaging her sore arm
and looking at her mother in wonderment.
     "What--what did you do to me?" she asked.
     "Call it lesson number one to show you who's the boss in
this house," Mona chuckled.  "And you're about to get lesson
number two, unless, of course, you want to concede right now."
     "I--I think you were just lucky."
     Mona smiled again and shrugged.  "Suit yourself."
     They squared off again, and this time Amanda lunged forward
trying to wrap her arm around Mona's neck.  In a single motion
that was almost too fast to follow, Mona ducked, grabbed Amanda's
wrist and bent her arm backward across the back of her neck with
a force that brought a cry of pain from the child.  Then, step-
ping behind her, Mona flipped her daughter neatly over her hip,
sliding the child's bent arm over her head as she did so to save
the elbow from being broken.  Amanda's body somersaulted over her
hip to land, this time, face down on the mat.  Declining to
follow up her advantage, Mona stepped back and waited, smiling,
until her daughter struggled to her feet.
     For a moment they stood looking at each other, amazement
written all over Amanda's face.  Then, without warning, she
rushed her mother, trying to catch her off guard, her arm's
outstretched to wrap her in a bear hug.  Mona deftly stepped to
one side, caught one of her daughter's wrists and swung her arm
in a wide, vertical arc, flipping Amanda off her feet in yet a
third somersault that left her flat on her back on the mat with
another, house shaking crash.  This time, however, Mona was on
her, rolling her over on her stomach, straddling her back and
forcing both her arms up behind her back almost to her shoulder
blades.  Amanda screamed in pain and thrashed about furiously,
trying to dislodge her tormentress, but, as before, the combina-
tion of Mona's strength and leverage advantage was too much for
her.
     "Still think I'm lucky, dear?" Mona asked.
     "You--you're hurting me, Mommy!" There were tears, now, in
the child's eyes as she repeated her complaint.
     "And I'm going to keep on hurting you until you concede,"
Mona replied calmly.  "Do you concede?"
     "Y-yes!"
     "And who's the boss in this house?"
     "Y-you are, Mommy!"
     Mona released her and stood up, watching the child warily as
she slowly rose to her feet, but Amanda was thoroughly cowed and
simply stood there, looking down at the floor.  Finally Mona
said, "Go to your room and stay there, Amanda.  I want to talk to
Daddy for a few minutes, and then I'll be up."
     "Yes, Mommy," Amanda said in a small voice that was barely
audible, and left the room.
     I was still shaking when Mona turned to me, but now from
relief.  "My God, Mona!" I stammered, "I thought for sure...  How
did you...  Where did you..." Then it hit me.  "All those appointments,
three times a week!  You were learning judo!"
     "And karate," she corrected me, grinning.  "Fortunately, I
didn't have to use karate on her, or I really could have hurt
her.  You know, baby," she added with a note of pride, "I made
black belt in both sports in less than two years."
     "And all that time I was afraid you were seeing another
man!"
     She laughed at that.  "Well, in a way, I was.  My
instructors were both men.  Cute, too.  But," she added, as my face
fell, "nowhere near as cute as you, baby.  I have to admit,
though, tossing those guys around these last few months really
turned me on.  I could hardly wait until I got home and got you
in bed!  But, now, I need to know how all this happened, so I can
straighten Amanda out."
     Red with mingled embarrassment and shame, I related as best
I could the events of the afternoon.  When I had finished, she
frowned, then came over to the chair and picked me up in her
arms.  "I'm sorry, baby," she said softly.  "I know how you must
feel, but it's my fault, not yours.  I thought I'd explained all
of that to her, but she obviously didn't understand me, and I
never thought to warn her against trying to breast feed you.
Want me to put you back to bed while I talk to her?"
     I wasn't sure I could stand or even sit up and said so, and
she carried me up to our bedroom, laid me on our bed and kissed
me lovingly and then left.  She was gone for almost an hour, and
when she returned Amanda was with her, looking thoroughly chastened.
     "I'm sorry, Daddy," she mumbled.  "I didn't know that what I
did to you was so terrible.  Do you hate me?  Can you ever
forgive me?"
     I sighed.  "There's nothing to forgive, Amanda," I told her.
"You didn't know what you were doing, and as far as hating you--
you're my daughter, my own flesh and blood, as much a part of me
as my arms and my legs.  No matter what you did, I could no more
hate you than I could hate myself."
     Her lower lip started to tremble, and then suddenly she
rushed across the room and threw her 320 lb. frame on top of me
with a force that I thought would break the bed.  As it was, even
cushioned by the thick, reinforced mattress, I was almost mashed
flat.  Her arms were around my head, pressing my face into her
chest, and her great body was racked with sobs as she cried, "Oh,
Daddy!  I'm so sorry!  I love you so much!  I won't ever do
anything like that to you again!"
     How do you comfort a teenage giantess almost three times
your size?  Particularly when she's almost killing you with love!
I tried unsuccessfully to reach around her massive arms to pat
her shoulders.  Fortunately, Mona was able to gently pull her off
me while I was still able to breathe.
     "Why don't you go for your dip in the pool, dear?" Mona
suggested.  "I think it'll make you feel a lot better."
     Amanda brightened a little.  "Will you come in with me?  And
bring Daddy?"
     "Not tonight, dear," Mona replied.
     I heaved a sigh of relief.  "Thank God!  I don't think I
could handle being a beach ball tonight!"
     Mona smiled.  "Amanda and I have talked about that," she
said soothingly.  "We've both agreed she's getting a little too
old to play those kinds of games with you.  Right, Amanda?"
     Amanda face was tinged with regret.  "That's right, Daddy,"
she replied.  "Mommy says I can't make you my beach ball or my
Little Baby Daddy any more.  But," she added, brightening again,
"I'm still the boss at home, at least when Mommy isn't here!"
     I had to laugh.  "Ok, boss.  Tell you what.  I'll go out and
buy you a real beach ball tomorrow."
     "And," Mona added, "you're just going to have to find a
little boy your own age to be your baby!"
     Amanda giggled and ran upstairs.  I looked pointedly at
Mona.  "What?"
     She laughed and patted my cheek.  "Now, don't get upset
again, baby.  She and I had a long talk about that, and I'm
pretty sure she understands now what she can and can't do with
boys."
     "Mona, she's only 14!"
     "But she's growing up fast.  And she'll be starting high
school this fall.  I've decided to send her to Cranberry, where
she can wrestle as well as go out for basketball and track.
She's beautiful, smart and personable, and she'll be the school's
top jock in no time flat.  And she'll be around boys a lot in a
completely different environment than in grade school.  I've been
talking to my customers about Amanda, and from what they tell me
you'd be amazed at the number of boys who are attracted to much
bigger, stronger girls--you're not that unique any more, darling!
And," she added, with a wry grin, "let's face it, like it or not,
you did awaken her sexually!"

[uk1012uk]

I winced at that, but had neither the strength or desire to
lose another argument with my Amazonian wife.
     "But what about you, darling?" Mona asked, when I didn't
respond.  "Are you going to miss being Amanda's little baby?"
     I hesitated, not sure how to answer her.  I knew I wouldn't
miss the warm milk, the baby food and clothes or the bondage and
said so, but the baths and being wrapped in those huge towels and
cuddled against Amanda's giant body in her massive arms had
turned me on like never before, to the point that when Mona came
home I had been literally aching to be taken by her.  Moreover,
she had seen the passionate fervor with which I had responded to
her sexual advances and had been delighted by it.  Would that
continue?  I wasn't sure.  And that uncertainty concerned me.
     As it turned out, my concerns were well founded.  In the
months that followed, our lovemaking, while adequate and pleasur-
able, did not have the intensity that it had had before.  It
certainly was not Mona's fault; when she saw the level of my
responses to her, she tried everything, taking evening showers
with me and wrapping me in those huge towels and cuddling and
rocking me on her lap the way Amanda had.  I tried, too, with
fantasies of her as a giantess seven, eight and even nine feet
tall!  But it was not the same, and afterwards, as we lay
together with her powerful arms around me pressing me tightly
against her massive body, I would peek up to see her looking down
at me with eyes that were wistful and even a little sad.  How do
you tell a 6'7", 280 lb. musclewoman who was once your physical
ideal that she's no longer big enough to turn you on sexually the
way she once did, that you can't help longing instead for the
more massive and powerful arms of her 7'2", 320 lb. daughter?
But I didn't have to tell her; she knew, and because I loved her
dearly, that was the most painful part of all.
     She was also right about another thing: Amanda had barely
enrolled at Cranberry the following fall when she was the talk of
the school.  During her Freshman year she was a straight "A"
student, set national records in the field events she entered,
was the star center on the girls' basketball team and won the
state wrestling championship in the super-heavyweight division.
The school would have even had her playing football had the
conference permitted it.  During this same period she gained
another inch in height and 15 additional pounds of solid, muscu-
lar weight.  And, although she didn't date and rarely went to
school dances because "none of the boys know how to dance with
me", her interest in boys was apparent from her discussions with
Mona and me and had pronounced sexual overtones.  Moreover, we
were getting definite vibrations from those discussions that
three of the smaller boys in her class with whom she had also
gone to grade school were strongly attracted to her.
     Her social life picked up markedly with the advent of
basketball season.  Most of the girls on the team were close to
or over 6' and were strong, physical athletes, and a number of
the bigger girls, like Amanda, preferred smaller, weaker boys.
Amanda began throwing Saturday afternoon pool parties for this
group and their boy friends and invited her three former grade
school classmates to join them, which they eagerly did.  I was
amazed when I met them.  Their names were Davey, Richie and
Darrell; none of them were over 5' tall or 100 lbs., and barely
reached to Amanda's navel when she wore her 5" platform sandals.
     Although Mona sometimes remained home to host these parties,
she was usually working at the gym, and the obligation fell to
me.  I have to admit that it was mildly stimulating to circulate
among these tight bodied, teenage Amazons, all of whom towered
over me, and see them playfully mauling their smaller boy friends
about in the pool and on the grass, and I discreetly looked the
other way when one of them would toss a boy over her shoulder and
carry him into the wooded area behind the yard.  But it was
Amanda who really loved to perform for the group.  Occasionally I
would look out a window to see her holding eight giggling boys
off the ground, three smaller boys tucked securely under each
massive arm and a larger boy sitting comfortably on each, broad
shoulder.
     During one of the early parties, however, I looked out to
see Amanda disappear into the woods with her three, little
admirers tucked under one mighty arm.  I didn't have to think
twice to figure out where they were going, and decided I'd better
check it out.  I slipped out the front door and into the woods,
and, out of sight from the back yard, circled the house until I
came to a small clearing surrounded by heavy bushes.  To my
horror, there was Amanda, stark naked and thighs spread apart,
reclining on her back on one of our lounge chairs which had been
moved into the clearing for obvious purposes, with Davey, Richie
and Darrell, who also naked.  Two of the boys were lying next to
each other on top of her, their lower bodies resting on her hips
and thighs with their feet barely reaching to her knees, held in
place by a huge hand covering each of their buttocks, while they
vigorously suckled her breasts and worked themselves up and down,
apparently masturbating in the heavy ridges between her hip and
thigh muscles.  The third boy was trapped on his stomach between
her thighs by her huge calves which were crossed over his but-
tocks, his face buried in and massaging her cleft.  Amanda was
writhing, sighing and moaning, her face a mask of orgasmic
ecstasy.
     Shocked at this sight, I also realized that there was
nothing I could do, and, out of sight behind the bushes, slipped
silently away and back to the house.  That night I told Mona what
I'd seen.  I was surprised at her reaction, although I suppose I
shouldn't have been.  "At least she's doing it the way I told her
to," she said.  "She won't pick up anything, and we won't have to
worry about the side effects of birth control pills.  Let's face
it, darling, she's becoming a strong, aggressive woman, and,
thanks to you, she's come alive sexually.  After all, you surely
don't think I was a virgin when I met you!"
     I had learned from long experience not to worry about things
over which I had no control.  Besides, things were beginning to
happen at the gym which I didn't understand.  For no apparent
reason, business and profits were literally exploding, and within
a year Mona was forced to expand, opening a second gym across
town and, over the next two years, several more in neighboring
cities.  At the same time, I was seeing unusually substantial
payments being made to a new supplier for a product that was not
listed in any of the bodybuilding publications we were getting.
When I asked her about it, Mona merely shrugged and told me it
was a new supplement she was stocking.  But when I checked the
company out, I discovered that it was a chemical manufacturer
with no apparent ties to the bodybuilding trade.  That's when I
started to worry.
     Then I started to notice changes in Mona.  The changes were
so gradual, and with Amanda continuing to grow in both height and
weight, they escaped my attention for several months.  When I
stood next to her she seemed somehow taller, her chest, arms and
legs bigger and bulkier; where once my eyes had been barely level
with her bustline when she was wearing flats, her breasts were
now above the top of my head!  And when she held me in her arms
wrapped in those huge towels after our evening showers, I felt
smaller, more helpless--and considerably more turned on!  Need-
less to say, our lovemaking improved markedly!
     I knew I wasn't shrinking, so it had to be that Mona was
getting taller and bigger.  But how?  We were both in our early
forties.  When I finally summoned the courage to confront her,
she laughed.  "I guess I can't hide it from you any more," she
confessed, and proceeded to tell me the story.
     One of her female customers, a woman of below average
height, was married to the owner of a chemical company.  Admiring
Mona's size and strength, she had pressured her husband to have
his research staff explore the possibility of developing a growth
stimulant which would work on adults.  The process had taken
several years, but a formula had been developed and thoroughly
tested which, when taken orally and combined with vigorous
physical workouts, somehow gradually modified the genetic charac-
teristics of women--it had no effect on men--to significantly
strengthen and increase the size of bone, muscle and organic
structures of the body in direct proportion to the amount of
formula ingested, with no apparent adverse side effects.  Over a
period of two years, the woman had grown almost a foot in height
and possessed more than twice the physical strength of the
average man.
     She had offered Mona an exclusive arrangement to market the
formula to her customers, which Mona had eagerly accepted.
Although she had obtained a legal opinion that FDA approval was
probably not required, out of an abundance of caution she had
offered the formula only to regular customers and had done no
advertising.  Nevertheless, word had spread, and women had begun
flocking to Mona's gym in incredible numbers.
     "I decided to start taking it myself, because it was obvious
that I wasn't able to turn you on sexually the way Amanda had,"
she went on, adding with a smile, "So far, it certainly seems to
have worked!"
     "My God!" I whispered, "How big are you going to get?"
     She laughed.  "Let me put it this way, baby.  By the time
Amanda reaches her full height--she should top out at about 7'5"
in another year or so--I'll be able to look her straight in the
eye and match her muscle for muscle!"
     "You--you're not going to give her any of that stuff, are
you?"
     She laughed again, harder this time.  "No way!  She's plenty
big enough as she is!"
     I was flabbergasted, but at the same time, incredibly
touched that this beautiful woman, already a giantess, would make
herself even bigger to restore what we seemingly had lost.  "You-
you did this to yourself for me?" I stammered.
     "For us, darling," she corrected me.  "And for me, too.  You
know, I'm not used to looking up at people, and I have to admit I
was getting a little tired of looking up at Amanda and knowing
she was even stronger than I am."  She gave me a look that was
almost coy.  "I think you're going to love the new me.  I know I
love being able to turn you on like a faucet again!"
     I literally melted into her powerful arms.  "Oh, Mona!" I
whispered.  "How could I possibly love you any more than I do
right now!"
     "Show me," she murmured, and proceeded to turn on the
spigot.
     Her predictions, as usual, proved right.  By Amanda's 16th
birthday she had attained her full height of 7'5-1/2" and weighed
a mammoth 375 lbs. of solid, shapely, feminine muscle.  Her
biceps and forearms measured 28" and 22", respectively, her chest
65", her thighs 38" and her calves 30", yet she had retained her
narrow, 36" washboard waistline.  She had also become a world
class athlete, and colleges were already beginning to scout her
for their women's programs.  Moreover, she and the 5' Darrell had
become a steady couple; although she continued to use his
friends, Davey and Richie, to suckle her breasts, that special
place between her massive thighs was reserved only for Darrell.
     Even more amazing, Mona matched her inch for inch, pound for
pound, measurement for measurement and muscle for muscle, and,
thanks to the formula's enhancements, was even slightly stronger.
Standing between these two towering giantesses, looming over 8'
tall in their 7" high heels with the top of my head below their
navels, I literally felt like a pygmy and, to her delight, could
hardly wait for Mona to get me in the shower and then to bed!
     The years that passed after that were an absolute delight.
Amanda graduated from high school, and then, with Darrell in tow,
from college.  By then the gyms had become an international chain
as more and more women sought physical superiority over men; we
were creating a world of giant Amazons and becoming millionaires
in the process!  The FDA had made a brief pass at us, but by that
time the wives of the bureaucrats in charge had become avid
customers of the gyms and had little difficulty "convincing"
their husbands to back off.
     On graduation from college, Amanda prepared to join her
mother in the management of the gyms, and she and Darrell were
married in the gym where Mona and I had exchanged our vows 21
years earlier in a remarkably similar ceremony.  We had already
added a separate, private wing to our house for them.  During the
reception Amanda came over to our table and leaned down between
Mona and me to kiss me warmly on my cheek.
     "My poor, wonderful, little Daddy!" she murmured in my ear.
"I really gave you a rough time when I was growing up, didn't I?"
     I smiled up at her.  "Looking at you now," I told her
softly, "it was worth every painful moment!"
     She and Mona both laughed.  "You know, Mother," she said to
Mona, "once I get Darrell home we're going to have to move the
nursery into our wing."
     "Not a chance," Mona chuckled.  "You'll have to do your own.
I'm going to need it for my new baby!"
     "WHAT!?!"  I choked.  The thought of having to raise another
Amanda was more than I could handle.  "You can't be..." I sputtered. 
"At your age, you can't be pregnant again!"
     Mona reached over to pluck me out of my chair and cuddle me
on her lap.  Pressing my head against her breast, she bent down
and kissed me lovingly on my forehead.  "Of course not, darling,"
she murmured.  "I meant you!"
     I sighed.  With this woman I could never win!  And deep
down, in my heart, I knew I never wanted to...

[guille]

MUSCLE GIRL
by Puppetman

Thirteen year old Stacie Ketchum was in a quandary. It was after ten on this Saturday morning in late March, and she had overslept. She knew her brother, Pete, and his best friend, Andy Sloan, were around somewhere, but she couldn't find them. She had thought they might be somewhere on the beach, but a quick check from the rear deck of the Ketchum beach house had revealed that it was deserted. Pete had mentioned the night before that Andy would be over early that morning with some bad news for him, and Stacie was bursting to find out what it was. Maybe they were over in that big cluster of boulders on the shore at the north end of the Sloan beach property; that's where they usually went when they wanted to be alone. The boulders were clearly visible in the distance, and Stacie set off at a fast trot along the beach to get there as quickly as possible.
Ever since she had started first grade at the school all three of them had attended, Stacie had nurtured a crush on Andy. Although Andy and Pete were four years older, she had contrived to spend a lot of time with them, getting them to escort her to and from school, which was well within walking distance from their homes, in the mornings and evenings and during the lunch hours. Moreover, Stacie had found various excuses to hang around the two boys during their recess breaks, much to Andy's discomfort, particularly since Stacie made no secret of her affection for him. To Andy, Stacie was just his friend's "skinny kid sister"; he found her attentions embarrassing and regarded her as a bit of a pest.
The friendship between Pete and Andy was an unusual one because of the contrast between them. Although not unusually tall, Pete was a brawny, handsome youngster who had inherited his parents' athletic abilities and would fight at the drop of a hat. Andy, on the other hand, was the better student, but an undersized lad with a soft, almost pretty-boy look and neither the strength nor the coordination for athletics. As a result, in the early grades Pete found himself often defending Andy against the bullying tactics of the bigger boys at school, who quickly learned to leave both boys alone. And because Pete found Andy's scholastic talents of invaluable assistance in maintaining his grades, their friendship endured and was cemented.
Stacie was a very tall, gawky child with a figure that her brother jokingly compared to a broomstick, but strikingly pretty features and long, luxurious, blonde hair. She was big boned, however, with broad shoulders that foretold a figure that would someday blossom and a wiry strength that belied her thin frame. By the time she reached the fourth grade she was almost as tall as Andy's 5'2" and was sure that she was as strong as, or perhaps even stronger than, her idol, but made no attempt to confirm her belief for fear of humiliating him.
As the boys reached the higher grades, Pete had become active in the school's football and basketball programs. His first love, however, was wrestling, and by the seventh grade had convinced his father to convert part of their basement game room into a weight room, where he worked out diligently after practice and on weekends. Because of Pete's after-school practice obligations, to Stacie's delight and Andy's annoyance, the job of escorting her home fell to him. She was heartbroken when the boys graduated and were forced to bus to the local high school several miles away.
In high school, Pete had eschewed football and basketball to concentrate on making the wrestling team, which he did handily, and by his junior year, when he had attained his full height of 5'11" and weighed a solidly muscular 175 lbs., was the state champion for his division. During his first year he had met and was dating seriously the school's top track star, Ann Cassidy, a lovely, dark haired girl only 2" shorter than he and weighing a solid, shapely 145 lbs. Ann had quickly became almost like a member of the Ketchum family, became a close friend of Andy's and like a big sister to Stacie, although Stacie at first resented Ann's efforts to get Andy dates with the smaller girls in her class. But the dates never seemed to work out; Andy seemed painfully shy, almost indifferent, with the girls Ann found for him, and she finally gave up trying. By his junior year Andy, who had reached his full height of 5'3" and weighed a slender 120 lbs., was unable to find a girl who would go out with him. Other than Stacie, of course, and he wanted no part of this tall, skinny seventh grader.
Now the boys were seniors, and both, along with Ann, had enrolled at Stanford for the fall semester. And Stacie, an imposing, 5'7" eighth grader whose figure was just beginning to blossom, only had this summer to change his mind.
But Andy had said he had bad news. She had to find out what it was!
She reached the boulders and climbed over to a small area of sand in the center of the cluster. Sure enough, they were there, along with Ann, talking earnestly in quiet tones.
"Hi!" she called. "What's goin' on?"
She saw Andy grimace as he looked up and saw her, but Pete and Ann waved her down, and she quickly joined them. "Andy was just telling us that his father's been temporarily transferred to San Francisco, Stace," Pete told her. "He's leaving next week, and Andy and his mom will be going up there as soon as school lets out."
Stacie's stomach wrenched, and suddenly she felt a little nauseous. She sat down on a flat rock, hoping her face didn't show what she was feeling and knowing it did. "For--for how long?" she asked finally.
Andy shrugged. "Dad says it'll only be for three years, and then he'll be coming back to L.A.," he replied. "We're keeping the beach house, and we're going to rent it out. I'm really looking forward to spending a summer in San Francisco, but I'll miss you guys." He looked pointedly at Pete and Ann.
"Oh." With an effort, Stacie composed herself and stood up. "Well, ah...I guess you'll be around for another couple'a months, so I, ah...I won't say good-bye, yet." She could hear her voice trembling and felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "I, ah...I'm gonna go back, now," she finished lamely and turned to scramble up the rocks and out of sight.
There the tears came freely, and she stumbled blindly up the beach toward her house. There would be no summer to win Andy over before he went off to college, and after that she wouldn't even see him over holidays and their summer vacations! And for three whole years! By then he would surely have found a girl his size to get serious with, and she would have lost him forever!
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Ann through tear streaked eyes. "Want some company, Stace?" the older girl asked. "I could tell Andy's news hit you pretty hard."
"Oh, Ann!" Stacie threw her arms around the older girl's neck. Ann listened sympathetically as Stacie poured out her woes and frustrations, and then, as Stacie finally lapsed into tearful silence, said, "Stace, listen to me. I don't think there's one chance in a thousand that Andy is going to find a girl to get interested in at college."
"W-why not?"
"Because he's not attracted to girls his size. It's the bigger, taller, more athletic girls who turn him on!"
Stacie stared at her. "What makes you say that?" she asked. "I'm bigger and taller than he is, and he's never given me a second look!"
"That's 'cause you're his best friend's kid sister, and he thinks of you as just a kid," Ann explained. To be honest with you, I didn't find it out myself until about a month ago. You've heard of Melanie Anderson, the girl on our track and field team who transferred to our school this year and runs marathons and throws the javelin?"
"That great, big girl?"
"Uh huh. Six feet tall, 185 stripped and all muscle! Not bad looking, either, but not in your class--or, at least, she won't be when you fill out. She lifts weights, and I hear she can bench almost 200 lbs. That's stronger than most of the boys in school."
"What about her?"
"You know Andy asked her out last month?"
"You're kidding!"
"Honest, Stace. She told me herself. She said Andy admit- ted it took him most of the school year to work up the nerve to ask her. She turned him down, of course--like most of the jocks, she's not interested in guys Andy's size--but she decided to tell me because she knew Andy's a close friend of ours and had heard that I'd been trying to get him dates during our freshman and sophomore years--apparently with the wrong kind of girls!"
"Wow!" Stacie lapsed into silence, and Ann could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. Finally she asked, "Are you sure she wasn't making it up?"
Ann smiled. "That's what I thought at first," she said, "although it didn't make sense why she would. So I told Pete. Pete said he nailed Andy to the wall when they were alone one night, and Andy finally admitted that he was only turned on by big, tall, muscular girls. He said he hadn't told us before because he was afraid we would think he was abnormal or something, or that Pete might get the idea he had the hots for me--I'm not exactly petite, you know!"
Stacie bit her lip. "Wow!" she said again. "You think he does?"
Ann shook her head. "No, he's too sweet a guy to try to come between Pete and me--not that he could if he wanted to! And that's my point: I don't know of a girl jock at our school who'd be interested in dating a guy his size, and I think the odds of his finding one at college are between slim and none. So, Stace, you've got three years, and I don't think I need to spell out for you what you have to do."
"You think I could build muscles like that Melanie Anderson girl?" Stacie asked, her eyes wide with wonder and anticipation.
Ann laughed. "Stace," she said, "With your build and genetics, I think in three years you could make her look like a peanut. But you'll have to work at it, and it's hard work. Go out for the strength sports, like swimming and some of the field events, and start working out with Pete's weights, starting right now! I'll have Melanie set up a workout and diet plan for you-- she's started to get into pure bodybuilding, so she'll know what to tell you. And you'll have Pete to help you, at least during the summers. By the time you see Andy again in three years, you could knock him dead and have him eating out of your hand!"
"But I'll still only be in high school. He'll still think of me as just a kid..."
"Not if you develop yourself the way I think you can," Ann replied. "No, I think there's only one question you have to ask yourself."
"What's that?"
"Whether as a great, big musclegirl you could still go for a guy half your size and no match for you in the strength department."
Stacie giggled. "No need to worry about that!" she said. "I'm stronger than Andy right now. Every time I see him I just want to pick him up and squeeze him till he hollers!"
"Then you two are a match! Go for it!" Ann put an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. "Feel better, now?"
Stacie grinned at her. "A ton! Thanks loads, Ann!"
Within a week Ann had obtained and provided her with the necessary workout and diet instructions, but Stacie waited until the Sloan family moved to San Francisco to begin her workouts. At first Pete was reluctant to help her; while he admired the firm, trim bodies of female athletes like Ann, he regarded the sport of bodybuilding with condescension and amusement, and he jokingly accused the girls of trying to turn "his little sister into a 'mirror athlete' or a 'female Arnold'". But Ann prevailed on him, and he finally relented, setting up lighter weights for Stacie and spotting her during her workouts. Stacie even convinced him to teach her some wrestling moves.

[guille]

Stacie worked hard during the following summer, and her progress was phenomenal. By the vime Pete left for college, his initial attitude of disdain had become one of grudging admiration. Stacie had gained another inch of height and an additional ten pounds of firm, flexible muscle, and in their playful wrest- ling matches during that summer Pete was finding that he had to work harder every week to pin her. Privately, he confided to Ann, "I never realized how strong she was. If she keeps this up, in year or two she might even be able to beat me!" Privately, Stacie had already set this as one of her goals. She had become hooked on bodybuilding and had resolved to reach her full potential, not just for Andy, but because of the sense of power and self confidence she was beginning to feel.
That fall Stacie joined the high school's swimming and track and field teams, specializing in the women's pentathlon, and, with her natural athletic ability, easily made both teams during her freshman year. She continued to work out diligently at home, in Pete's weight room and swimming laps in the long pool in the rear deck of the Ketchum house, and by the following summer had gained another three inches of height and thirty pounds of muscular weight. She could now look Pete straight in the eye, was only thirty-five pounds lighter than he, and was lifting all but his heaviest weights.
Of course, Pete, too, had continued to work out. He had made the college wrestling team during his freshman year and had added another ten pounds of muscle to his burly frame. He had done well, and, although losing in the state finals, there was little doubt that he would eventually win his division. He was still much stronger than Stacie, but the difference between them had narrowed considerably. Furthermore, Stacie knew that he had been telling Andy about her activities and didn't want either them to know the full extent of the progress she had made. At Ann's suggestion, she deliberately held back in their joint workouts and wrestling matches during that summer, working out with the heavier weights only when she was alone and letting Pete win their playful matches more easily than he otherwise would have. Nevertheless, Pete was amazed at the size and strength of his 'little' sister.
He was also impressed by the change in her appearance, and with good reason. Her once thin body had filled out into a curvaceous, smoothly muscular physique that literally glowed with good health, and her attitude and personality, while gracious and feminine, clearly reflected the power and self confidence she now felt. She had become an extraordinarily beautiful young woman, popular in her school, and, despite her height, dated frequently, graciously declining the many sexual advances and overtures to become serious she received.
And she was missing Andy more and more. She had hoped that he would visit them during the summer, but a summer job had kept him in San Francisco, and she finally decided that it was just as well. She had not come close to reaching her peak, and that is when she wanted Andy to see her for the first time.
During her sophomore year the fruits of her efforts began to really pay off. She gained another 2" in height and thirty-five additional pounds of solid muscle to her body, which was now becoming more defined and deeply cut. Her shoulders broadened with the development of powerful delts; her chest became a wide "V", with swelling lats tapering to a narrow waist that was a washboard of rippling muscle, and then flaring ever so slightly to tight, rounded hips, oaken thighs and hard, yet shapely, calves. Her arms, too, had thickened considerably, with baseball size biceps and heavy, deeply corded forearms. By New Years she had discovered that even Pete's heaviest weights did not give her adequate workouts and convinced her reluctant parents to add the additional weights she needed.
These gains did not come without a price. With its greater definition, her body no longer had the buoyancy she needed to compete successfully in swimming. Reluctantly, she resigned from the team to concentrate on the pentathlon, where it was obvious that she would soon be setting state, and perhaps national, records. She had fewer dates, too, as more and more boys became wary of her size, muscularity and strength.
Pete had spent the semester and Easter breaks competing at the regional and state wrestling meets, in both of which he won his division, and had been home only briefly during the Christmas break, spending part of the break with Andy in San Francisco. Thus, when he returned home the following summer, he was, totally unprepared for the beautiful and powerful young Amazon his little sister had become. Fifteen year old Stacie now towered a full 2" over her older brother, matched him pound for pound and muscle for muscle, and he was amazed and chagrined to discover that she could actually lift heavier weights than he. She immediately challenged him to another wrestling match, which he reluctantly accepted. This time Stacie did not hold back, and he found he had to use every trick he knew to avoid being pinned. They agreed that the match was a draw, but both he and Stacie knew that she would have won on points.
There was a clear method behind Stacie's actions, and she enlisted Ann's support to convince Pete not to tell Andy how big and strong she had become. "After all," she warned him, only half-jokingly, "you wouldn't want everyone in college to know that their state wrestling champion can't even beat his little sister on the wrestling mat!" Under the circumstances, Pete had no choice but to agree, although, after thinking it through, he asked Stacie to continue working out and wrestling with him during the rest of the summer.
"After all," he told her, "the best way to improve is to wrestle with someone bigger and stronger than I am! And I can still teach you a few moves you haven't learned yet!"
By the end of the summer Stacie had picked up another 1/2" in height and 10 lbs. of weight, and was well on her way to reaching the 6'4" and 225 lbs. she would attain by the end of the school year. During her junior year her athletic prowess was earning her more publicity than she wanted, and periodically she would call Pete to confirm that Andy had not seen any of the reports of her athletic feats. This was the year that the Sloans would return to L.A., and that Andy would be literally swept off his feet by that skinny, little girl he had ignored for so many years!
The Sloans did return in late June, after Pete and Andy had returned from college, and Andy, who had initially joined them in San Francisco, was with them. The day they arrived Pete and Ann went down to greet them, and Ann took Andy aside and said, "You know, Stacie can't wait to see you."
Andy scowled. "I thought she would've gotten over that crazy, schoolgirl crush by now," he grumbled. "Am I going to have to fight her off again the whole summer?"
Ann chuckled. "I don't think you'll be able to, now, Andy," she told him, "and I have a feeling you won't want to even if you could. She's really changed quite a bit! You may not even recognize her."
Andy looked up at her quizzically. "Well, she always was a tall, pretty, little girl, and I imagine she's grown up a lot. But she's still just a high school kid--what would she be, now, 16? That's way too young for someone like me."
Ann smiled and patted his cheek. "Well," she said, "you can humor her just this once, as a favor to me, okay?"
Andy sighed. "Okay, I suppose so." He looked around. "Well, if she's so anxious to see me, where is she?"
"She's waiting for you down by the rockpile. She wants to surprise you. I told her I'd send you down." Ann started to turn away, and then added, "Oh, by the way, the three of us are going out tonight for dinner at the Metropole Dance Club, and we want you to come with us, if you can make it."
Andy gave her a long look out of the corner of his eye, "And I suppose I'm going to be Stacie's date, right?"
"Right."
Andy shrugged, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and reluctantly strolled down the beach toward the pile of boulders at the water's edge. It was mid-afternoon, and the tide would soon be washing over the rocks, so, fortunately, he wouldn't have to stay long. He reached the base of the rocks and looked around. No Stacie. Probably in that center clearing they always used. He climbed over and down into the sandy clearing, but Stacie was nowhere to be seen.
He crossed to the other side and stepped up on one of several low, flat rocks to see if she were hiding behind one of the larger boulders there. Not seeing her, he turned, scratched his head, and after several moments started back across the clearing.
"Hi, Andy! Welcome home!"
The voice was familiar, yet deeper and richer than he remem- bered, and exquisitely feminine. He had taken only a couple of step away from the rocks, and he turned to look straight into a long, flowing, white robe. He blinked, and then looked upward, past impossibly wide shoulders well above his head, into the dazzling smile and lovely features, framed in long blonde hair, of the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen, looming nearly a foot an a half above his own.
"Stace?" he gasped. "Is that you?"
"Uh huh. You like?"
"You--you're gorgeous!" he stammered. "Come on down."
Her laugh was like the pealing of a bell. "I AM down, silly!"
He did a double take, looked quickly at the sand. Sure enough, long, slender feet, clearly visible under the robe and perched on high heeled sandals, were firmly planted in the sand in front of him.