Tammi
by Sean Porter

* * * * * * *

I'll admit, working as a medical researcher for a government agency can be a pretty strange occupation.  I've seen some bizarre things in my career so far, as short as it's been.  But nothing in my six and a half years of experience in genetic mapping, virus breeding or irradiation sensitivity conditioning could have prepared me in even the slightest of ways for Tammi.

Tammi was a volunteer subject for the HGE program.  Human Genetic Enhancement.  Like all of the volunteer subjects they had gone through, she was terminally ill and had no living relatives to speak of.  She was approached very discreetly and asked if she would be willing to serve her country by allowing government researchers the chance to conduct experiments on her genetic makeup.  This was our standard procedure.

"The experiments would have your best interests at heart," she would have been told.  "Our scientists will be trying to cure you, just as the doctors have.  Like the doctors, we can offer no guarantees.  But unlike them, we are far from reaching the end of the rope as far as treating your condition is concerned."

Though it might come as a surprise, it was rare that these offers were accepted.  The dying are not necessarily either desperate or noble.  Many prefer to die in peace, with dignity and without clutching at false hope, and have little interest in serving their country in their final hour.  They can hardly be blamed.  I can only imagine how patriotism pales in comparison with the imminence of eternity.

But whether it was courage or fear, hope or hopelessness, Tammi had something in her that made her say "Yes."  And so she arrived at our nondescript facility, not even knowing what State she was in and having told no living soul what she had agreed to.  She was a pale and shriveled waif with sunken eyes and thinning hair.  Within 48 hours she slipped into a coma from which I assumed she'd never awake.  But a doctor named Kyle Nelson, who was a good friend of mine, was very excited about the responsiveness he was seeing in her DNA.

* * * * * * *

Although I consulted with Kyle on Tammi's entrance exam, she wasn't on my caseload, and there were plenty of other projects that were, so I hadn't given her much thought for several days when Kyle knocked on my door late one afternoon.  "Hi," he greeted me, popping his head around the edge of the door.  "I've got a problem I think you might be able to help out with."

"Great," I groaned.

"Don't worry, this is..." he smirked.  "It's exciting.  You studied kinesthetics, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Come on in, Tammi."  He entered my office, followed by a young woman.

The woman...

She was...

Stunning is the only word that begins to cover it.  Everything about her was so vivid, rich, alive.  It's very hard to describe.  Her skin was a deep, glowing bronze; her eyes shone impossibly blue; her hair was the thickest, blackest and most lustrous I'd ever seen.  She looked like a damn shampoo commercial.  Although she was wearing a thick, loose sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants, it was clear she had a very athletic and very feminine build.  Her feet were bare and perfect.  As I tried to say already, everything about her projected an almost tangible sense of vivacity and beauty.

But what was almost equally disconcerting was the uncertainty with which she followed Kyle into the room.  She seemed to be tiptoeing, her eyes wide-eyed with what looked like panic, her hands held gingerly in the air.  Without touching anything, she slowly and carefully lowered herself onto a chair and sat absolutely still, looking at me expectantly with her impossibly gorgeous eyes.

"Sean, this is Tammi.  Tammi, this is my friend Sean whom I told you about.  He's met you before, but you were in a coma so you might not remember him."  He chuckled at his own joke while I put two and several billion together.

"Tammi?"

Kyle only nodded, the lopsided smirk now permanently etched on his face.

I tried to recover my composure and extended my hand across the desk.  "Nice to meet you, Tammi."

She stared at my hand as if it was about to bite her.  Kyle hastily interrupted.  "It's alright, you don't need to shake hands.  Uh," he looked at me, "Tammi doesn't want to...uh...touch anything."

"Okay...May I ask why not?"

"Perhaps a demonstration," Kyle replied.  "Do you have a pen you don't need?"

I handed him one.  He grabbed a blank sheet of paper from my printer and a folding chair from a corner.  Placing the paper on the chair in front of her, he held out the pen.  "Tammi, can you try to take this pen and write your name?"  She shook her head, fearfully.  He reassured her in a soothing voice.  "It's alright, don't worry about the chair.  We have millions of them."

A small tear rolled down her cheek as she held out her hand.  Kyle laid the pen across her flat palm and stepped back.  She carefully curled her fingers around the pen until it rested loosely between her fingers.  Then she moved it slowly toward the paper.  For some reason I held my breath.

The point made contact with the paper.  Her hand trembled.  She made a slight movement, and suddenly the pen crunched and shattered in her grip.  Silently sobbing, she covered her face with her ink-stained hand.  Kyle solemnly picked up the piece of paper.  "It's alright Tammi, don't cry," he soothed as he held up the paper and looked at me through the small tear the pen had made.  Then he indicated the chair, making sure I noticed the equally small but alarmingly deep scratch.

* * * * * * *

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cry," Tammi sniffed.  "I'm just...scared."

"It's alright," Kyle repeated.  "I understand.  It's okay to be scared.  But we're going to help you," he said firmly, looking into her eyes.  "Everything's going to be alright."

There was a pause as Tammi nodded and dried her eyes.  She seemed to be much calmer now.  Even with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, she was heart-poundingly beautiful.

Tentatively, I spoke.  "What was...uh, perhaps we should talk about the treatment Tammi received."

"Yes," Kyle agreed.  "Her DNA was modified to induce exponential restructuring of..."

I interrupted.  "Tammi, it's alright if you'd like to leave.  If you need a moment..." I worried that she wouldn't cope well with hearing us discuss her in such technical terms.

"No, it's alright."  She smiled bravely.  "I've heard this before."

I nodded.  Kyle continued, not missing a beat.  "...Exponential restructuring of her musculo-skeletal system."  I already knew what he was getting at, but he put it in layman's terms anyway.  "Basically, we programmed her body to double its strength, then double it again, over and over."

"We'd tried this before, hadn't we?"

"Yes, but Tammi's genes were much more cooperative than any I've seen.  The restructuring was almost immediate."

"And when was that?"

"Five days ago."

"What's the regeneration period?"

Kyle couldn't hide a smile.  "Ninety minutes."

My jaw dropped only for a second before I remembered the poor girl was sitting right in front of me, and she was scared.  I attempted to sound clinically detached as I did some quick math.  "That means she's now enhanced by a factor of 2 to the 90th power."

Kyle checked his watch.  "92."

I took a deep breath and pulled a calculator from my desk.  My fingers trembled as I punched the digits.  2...x^y...92...=...

The display read 4951760157141521099596496896.

I waited a full ten seconds before I said anything.  I wanted to be sure my voice wouldn't shake.

"Tammi," I said calmly, "The fact that you were able to hold that pen as gently as you did just now means that your body has already learned a huge amount about how to function in its new state.  You should feel very good about that.  It means that you should be able to learn to control your movements without a lot of difficulty.  The reason Kyle brought you to me is that I know how muscles communicate with each other and with the brain.  I'm going to help you learn to communicate with your muscles again.  Does that make sense?"

Tammi nodded.  "Yes, he told me that.  You're a kinesthesiologist."  She smiled.  I could almost feel my heart melting.

"That's right," I chuckled, "although we don't use that term much anymore."  I shot an accusing look at Kyle.  "Too easy to confuse with a kinesiologist."

Kyle grinned.  I looked at Tammi.  "Kinesiologists," I deadpanned, "are full of shit."

* * * * * * *

Kyle and I escorted Tammi back to her quarters.  Her movements were still extremely cautious, but she seemed less frightened already.  Kyle led us to an area of our facility which could have easily functioned as a maximum security prison.  These rooms were sometimes used to restrain subjects who became violent.  The walls, I knew, were constructed of ridiculously thick and dense metal, and the 24-inch doors could be magnetically sealed if the need arose.  Kyle took no such precautions with Tammi.  "Here we are," he said as Tammi stepped back into her room, which was more nicely furnished than these holding cells normally were.  She had a large, comfortable looking bed, and a TV which I later learned was controllable by voice.  The rest of the room was bare, dull metal, but I noticed several dents and handprints in the walls.

"I'll see you first thing in the morning, Tammi," I said.

"Thank you doctor," she replied with a warm smile.

"Please, call me Sean."

"Okay...Sean," she giggled, and gently swung the gigantic door shut.  It slammed into place with an ear-shattering crash.

"Sorry!" she called out from behind the door.  I shook my head in disbelief.

* * * * * * *

Kyle couldn't stop talking as we navigated the halls to his office.  "You've gotta see the cytology modulators.  We had to recalibrate the graphing tool to even get a glimpse of her mRNA growth.  It was like her cells just wanted to restructure."

I interrupted him, as I was so used to doing.  "Why did you wait until now to bring her to me?"

He shrugged.  "Well, she remained unconscious for most of the first day.  Then when she woke up, she was already so enhanced that she did quite a bit of damage before we were able to explain the situation to her.  Since then she's been really scared.  We managed to get her set up in her room and find some clothes she could put on without ripping to shreds, and that was about it.  Today she seemed calmer, so I told her I thought you might be able to help."

"I hope you're right."

"Believe me, you've already done plenty.  She seems much better now, like she has hope for the first time.  I don't think I'd seen her smile once until we got in your office."

While I was contemplating this, Kyle grabbed my arm.  "Hey, wanna see what she did?"

We were passing the examination rooms.  Kyle excitedly led me down a hall.  As we approached the far end I began to see what would have been good clues that an earthquake or tropical storm had recently occurred nearby.  Irregular holes were gouged out of the floor and walls, and chunks of plaster and cement were scattered in every direction.  We came to a room with no door.

Well, to be truthful, the room had a door.  I could see the top half of it lying on the floor, and pile of splintered wood in one corner was most likely the bottom half.  The doorknob was a misshapen blob of brass lodged in the wall.

My guess was, she had calmed down quite a bit by the time she got to the door.

Not much else in the room was recognizable.  It was as if everything in it had been pulverized to dust, including most of the room itself, structurally speaking.  A thick layer of chunky, colorful dust covered the floor, sparkling with fragments of shattered glass.  Part of the ceiling had caved in, giving us a view into the office above.

"Holy shit," I said, because it wasn't really possible to say anything else until it had been said.

Next I said, "Was anybody hurt?"

Kyle gave me a sour look.  "You were supposed to ask, 'Was anybody killed?' so I could say 'No' and feel good about how well we handled the situation.  Robbie has two broken arms, and Matt's left kneecap is shattered along with most of the shin.  But once she realized she'd hurt them, she stayed away from everyone.  She really didn't mean to harm anyone."

"She wasn't violent?"

"Not at all.  All of this..." Kyle looked helplessly at the devastated laboratory, "was accidental.  She just couldn't help it.  It must have felt like everything she touched was just turning to dust."  He shook his head.  "I knew how powerful she was, so as soon as I realized she was waking up I tried to get everyone away from her, but..."

"Don't feel bad, man.  You're right, you handled it extremely well."

We both took a deep breath, backing away from the disaster area.  I guessed there had probably been about half a million dollars' worth of equipment in that room.  I forced a chuckle.  "Well, let's take a look at your notes."

* * * * * * *

The next morning, armed with a more detailed understanding of Tammi's treatment and what she had been through so far, I knocked on her door.  After a moment it swung inward and Tammi stood before me, wearing the same clothes we had left her in last night.  They were wrinkled, and even torn in a couple places, but she herself still looked incredible, if anything more so.  Her hair, her eyes, her skin and lips, all were flawless to the point of absurdity.  I could have believed she was wearing makeup, but that was impossible.

She beamed excitedly at me.  "Sean, hi!"

"Good morning, Tammi," I replied.  "Did you sleep alright?"

"Uh yeah," she said, "but...could you tell them I broke another bed?"  I peered around the two foot wide door frame.  The hefty bedframe was now in several pieces.  Tammi stared embarassedly at the floor.

"Sure, no problem," I stuttered.  "Don't worry about it."

"I had a weird dream," she explained quietly.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

She hesitated, then shook her head.

"That's alright, you don't have to.  Uh, I'd like you to follow me, if you would.  We aren't going far."

As I led her down a hall, I began to explain my intentions.  "We're going to a different sort of lab.  It's sometimes used for weapons testing, so I hope it will be durable enough for our purposes.  I've had a few, uh, special items brought in for us."

I glanced over my shoulder at her.  She was keeping her distance from me, following with her careful tip-toeing motion that was almost graceful in its own way.  She spared me a distracted smile.  "That sounds good."

We arrived at the door and I opened it.  Tammi emitted a gasp as she entered the chamber.  It was about the size of a football field, with a ceiling a hundred feet above our heads.  The floor, walls and ceiling were constructed of the same dull metal as her room, but I assured her they were all much thicker.

Arranged throughout the room were a collection of curious items; some cubes of solid steel, ranging from three feet to fifteen feet to a side, an assortment of long steel beams of varying thicknesses, a full set of traditional weightlifter's dumbbells, and at the far end of the chamber, an old Chevy Suburban.

"Welcome to our playground," I smiled.

She gazed around the room, then looked at me.  "What's all this for?"

"We'll see," I replied.  "I have a number of things I'd like to try, but it all depends on you."

"On me?"

"On your responses, on your willingness to experiment, on how things go in general."

"I'm willing to try whatever you think is best."

"That's the spirit.  First of all I want to help you understand your situation as best you can.  Your biggest challenge, as I see it, will be the constant acceleration of your, uh, your abilities.  Your strength."

"Strength?"

"Well, yes.  We might use other words for it, like restructuring or enhancement, but ultimately what's happening to you is that you're getting stronger.  At a phenomenal rate.  Your body is physically reconfiguring itself from the ground up, so that each individual cell is made stronger, which makes your various organs, bones and muscles stronger, which makes your various systems such as the circulatory, nervous and musculo-skeletal, stronger as well.  Does that make sense?"

"I guess so, but it doesn't really feel like strength to me.  It just seems like everything I touch is really fragile."

"Right.  Your strength is increasing so rapidly and so vastly that what you might have thought of as strong is already meaningless.  And it's that constant increasing that makes our job more difficult.  You're already thousands of times stronger than you were the last time I saw you.  And keep in mind that's not thousands of times stronger than a normal person, that's thousands of times stronger than how strong you were last night."

She seemed uncomfortable, but smiled shyly.  "Wow."

"Exactly.  So rather than teaching you how to deal with how strong you are right now, we need to teach you how to deal with always becoming stronger."

"How do we do that?"

"Well, the interesting thing about kinetics is that you can't really learn by thinking about it.  Your body will learn on its own as we train it, but it's important not to think of these exercises as tests that you can pass or fail.  Whatever happens, try not to feel like you're doing poorly.  You can't make your body do better, you just have to let it learn."

She nodded slowly, but I could see she was confused.

"That might not make sense right now, it's just something to keep in mind as we go.  Let's get started."

I led her over to the assortment of steel cubes, selecting one that was four feet high.  "The first thing we're going to try to teach your body is that even though it's very strong, it still weighs the same.  I want you to let your hand drop onto this cube.  Just hold out your hand and let it drop.  Don't push down at all, just let your hand fall."

She dropped her hand onto the cube.  There was a deafening metallic screech as the solid steel dented and buckled in on itself where her hand landed.  The cube also sunk into the floor a few inches.

"Oh my god!"  Tammi extracted her hand from the deformed metal and gasped in horror.

"That's alright," I said quickly, perhaps a little too loudly.  "Don't feel bad about it.  It's completely alright."

"Oh my god..." she said again, this time in a quiet moan.

"Tammi," I continued calmly, "the important thing to realize is how little of your strength you're using already.  Do you know you have the strength to completely obliterate a piece of steel like this?"

She shook her head sharply.

"In fact," I mused, "that might be a good idea.  It should help you to see what you're really capable of.  Tammi," I said firmly, "I want you to very gently pick up that cube."

It wasn't exactly a cube anymore, but she knew what I meant.  She bent over and placed a hand on either side of it.  Her fingers sunk slightly into the metal.  She straightened up, and the metal came free from the floor with another screech.  We both stared at the four-foot square indentation in the floor.

"Now," I ordered her, "I want you to very gently compress the cube between your hands.

She looked in wonder at the steel as she easily moved her hands together.  The cube groaned and warped, deforming easily between her hands.  "Wow," she giggled, "it feels like Play-Doh."  She moved one of her hands and squished in a corner of the block.  "Really soft Play-Doh."

"The metal you're holding weighs thirty thousand pounds."  She froze and stared at me.  I nodded.  "That's fifteen tons."

"It feels like nothing!" she protested, staring at the mangled steel.

"All the same," I smiled, "I'd appreciate it if you used as much caution as possible when you put it down."

She did so carefully, and I gestured to another cube.  "Let's try our original exercise again.  Remember, just let your hand drop.  Your muscles are stronger, but your arm weighs no more than it did before.

Tammi took a deep breath and let her hand fall onto the cube.  We both looked with interest at the shallow imprint of her hand left on the block, which was otherwise unmarred.

"Way to go!" I shouted.

* * * * * * *

After several more tries with both hands, I decided to move on.  "Like I said, your body will continue to learn these skills even when you're not thinking about them.  We just need to help it along.  Try picking up this beam."

I pointed at the smallest of the steel beams, which was six feet long and about six inches in diameter.  I watched her as she tiptoed over to it and bent down, so entranced by the timid movements of her flawless body that I almost didn't realize my error.

"Wait a minute!" I shouted suddenly, nearly scaring the poor girl out of her skin.  "Sorry," I explained, "that was dumb of me.  We shouldn't start with the smallest one; it's the biggest we want to try first."

She looked confused.

"The purpose of this exercise is to help you with gripping and handling things.  I was naturally thinking the lightest one would be easiest for you, but really the opposite is true."

"Really?"

"Of course.  None of these will feel heavy to you.  The only challenge is not to damage them."

Shaking her head in bewilderment, she moved to the largest beam.  It was fifty feet long and three feet in diameter.  Bending down, she looked across the room to where I was standing.  "How heavy is it?"

I had already been doing the math.  "At least 85 tons."

"Holy cow," she exclaimed.  Centering herself along it's length, she carefully placed one hand near the floor and the other over the top.

As she straightened up, the metal wailed loudly.  The width of the metal between her hands compressed from three feet to about two as she jerked it swiftly into the air.  The length of beam on either side of her also rose from the ground, but sagged as the beam bent in the center.  Tammi stared wide-eyed at me.

"How does that feel?" I asked.

"I...I thought it was going to be hard!" she stammered.  "It's just...weightless!"

"Well actually it's anything but.  It's just that your strength is so far enhanced that your muscles don't even register it."

"I can't believe this!"  Tammi couldn't contain a giggle, and the huge piece of metal shook in her hands.

"Alright, why don't we set that one down and try something easier to manipulate..."

Tammi was already lowering the beam to the ground.  Its ends rested on the floor, but the middle remained bent and protruded into the air.  As she let go of it I saw too late what was happening.

The low arch of the warped beam wobbled, tipped toward Tammi and struck her, knocking her completely over and then falling on top of her.

I ran worriedly toward her, but all she said was, "Oops."

She was lying flat on her back with the enormous beam resting across her chest, but she looked completely comfortable.  I allowed myself a chuckle.  "Well, another lesson in the difference between strength and mass.  Even with all your strength, an 85 ton beam landing on you will still knock you over.  Luckily, your body is strong enough to resist its weight.  Do you feel any weight pressing down on you?"

She thought about it.  "Maybe a little, like as if there was pillow on my chest or something."

I laughed again.  "Why don't you go ahead and take off the pillow."

She slid her hands under the beam as if it was a benchpress machine and smoothly lifted it.  Then she removed one hand, using only the other to hold it while she scooted out from under it.  She rose to a standing position, still holding the beam up with one hand.  I remained a safe distance away while she did this, but as she stood examining the beam I couldn't resist drawing closer to see what she was looking at.

"Oh...uh...well."  I didn't exactly know what to say, but Tammi didn't seem too embarrassed.  She gently lowered the beam to the ground and turned to me.

"That was interesting."

"Uh, yeah."  I knew I would never forget the image of two large, perfectly round breasts, complete with perky nipples, imprinted into the solid steel of that beam.  Nor would I ever want to.

She put her hands on her hips and grinned.  "So what's next?"

Next I had her try a more manageable beam, 20 feet long and one foot thick.  She lifted it with comic ease and played with it as I instructed her.  "Try gripping it with one hand.  Toss it and catch it.  Now walk your hands along to one end of it."  The metal bent and twisted noisily as she followed my instructions, her small hands accidentally mangling the huge beam with each new movement.  I asked her to try bending it, but it snapped in two as she tried.

"Oops!" she cried as the ends clanged violently against the floor, making several ugly dents in it.  "I'm sorry!"

"That's okay," I reassured her.  "Remember, it's all part of the learning process.  Just let your body learn, and don't rush things.  Try again."

She picked up another beam, this one slightly thicker.  Positioning her hands about four feet apart, she managed to get a good grip on the steel without crushing it too badly.  A look of intense concentration occupied her beautiful features as she moved her hands carefully toward each other.  With awe I reminded myself that her consternation was due not to the prodigious weight she was supporting but to the level of care she had to take not to demolish it completely.  Slowly, and with a deafening groan, the metal warped, then bent upward.  A delicious smile spread over Tammi's full lips.  She looked at me through the 10-foot-tall 'V' she had made.  "I did it!"

I smiled back and gave her the thumbs up, hoping I was far enough away that she wouldn't notice my throbbing erection.

* * * * * * *

Over the next few days Tammi and I found a routine which we both enjoyed.  We would meet in our "gym" in the morning, I would talk her through various exercises to develop her kinetic sensitivity and build links between her brain and muscles.  She made very good progress, but still had her share of mishaps.  She had to learn not to see these as failures or drawbacks, but as an inevitable part of the learning process.  And even I sometimes felt, when she accidentally crushed a steel cube against her body or embedded a giant beam deep into the wall, that it was my fault for pushing her too hard.  But her enthusiasm remained high.  She was an emotional girl, almost giddy when she did things right and occasionally shedding tears when she couldn't, but her outburts of sorrow were quickly becoming less pronounced, and I realized that they had actually been rooted in her fear of the situation, a fear which was now fading as she made progress.

I considered adding psychological counseling to her regimen, but decided it might very well add to her stress rather than reduce it.  She seemed to be handling her situation quite well without help.  Still, I wondered about the dreams she kept mentioning.

By the fifth day of our training, Tammi was fairly consistent with picking up objects without damaging them.  Her brain knew how much force could be safely applied to an item, depending on its size and the materials it was made of, and was quickly learning how to direct her constantly recalibrating muscles to apply only that much force when she grasped it.  I got to the gym early on this particular day, wearing a comfy sweatsuit, and began working out myself using the standard weight set.  Tammi arrived later than usual, but was very excited when she did.

"Look!" she squealed at me.  I carefully set down the bar I'd been pressing and looked across the room at her as she approached.

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  That might not sound impressive to you, but until that day she had only been able to wear thick, baggy materials.  She had been incapable of handling anything else without ripping it or disintegrating it altogether between her fingers.

She looked fabulous.  The jeans were spectacularly tight, hugging legs whose shapeliness I had only imagined until now, and poorly.  Her calves and thighs were obviously well-muscled, but with sleek and curvy muscle rather than bulging.  Her bum filled out the back of her jeans admirably, hard and round.  The T-shirt was also dangerously tight, and didn't come down quite enough to hide her cute belly button.  The magnificent bust which I had previously seen in steel relief was unavoidably apparent; she was clearly braless.

I closed my mouth, then used it.  "Wow Tammi, congratulations!"

"Thanks," she said, skipping over to me.  "I'm so excited to finally be able to put on real clothes!  And it's because of you," she added.  "Thank you SO much!"

I tried not to stare at her bouncing, jiggling shirt as she came to a stop by my side.  "Well you're welcome, but you did it yourself."  I swallowed, and tried to sound as casual as possible when I added, "And by the way, you look terrific."

She smiled shyly.  "Thanks."

"Well, I was just giving myself a little workout here.  I think I'd like you to work with these today."

"Really?  Those tiny things?"

"Exactly.  I was thinking you're ready to try grasping lighter objects, and obviously you had the same thought this morning."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Why don't you start with this bar I was just lifting?  It's only holding 100 pounds."

With a giggle, she nodded.  "Okay."

"But I want you to use only your finger and thumb."

She nodded again, and stretched out her hand to the bar.  Her slender index finger rested gently on top of it; she brought her thumb into contact with its underside.  Her brow furrowed as she tried to grip it with only the proper force.  It squeaked, and suddenly her finger and thumb were only millimeters apart.

"Oh shucks."

"No problem.  Try another one."  I had several more bars ready.  She squatted down next to another one on the floor, the back of her jeans bulging dangerously.  Again she carefully pinched the bar between her fingers, but this time managed to get a firm grip without crushing the metal.  The weights gently rose from the ground.  From her squatting position, balancing on only the balls of her pretty feet, she looked up at me and grinned.

"Very nice," I said.  Strangely, it was even more arousing to see her daintily holding this relatively light weight as if it were as fragile as glass, than it was to see her mangling tons of steel.  I shifted uncomfortably.

She carefully stood up, holding the barbell out in front of her.  "I wonder if I could twirl it like a baton," she giggled.

"Be careful," I advised.

She took a few steps away from the equipment and began to twirl the weight.  The 45 pound plates on either end revolved slowly around her fingers a few times.  She laughed and placed her other hand on her hip, striking a cheerleader pose.  But just then her fingers closed through the bar entirely, splitting it into two pieces which flew apart and clanged horribly against walls and floor as they bounced and spun.  Finally they came to rest.  I cautiously emerged from behind a rack of weights.

"Oops," she smiled.

* * * * * * *

As Tammi continued to make phenomenal progress, she became more creative with her exercises.  She seemed to be enjoying her abilities more, even reveling in them, and liked to come up with unusual ways to put them to use.  She was also very pleased that she could now dress normally, and wore a variety of attractive outfits for our 'workout' sessions.  Most of the clothes she had brought with her when she'd come to our facility were now a little small for her enhanced frame, but she didn't seem to mind.  At first it was casual attire, such as T-shirts and jeans or slacks.  Then she began to wear shorts more often along with the occasional tank top.  Before long the norm was a sport bra and shorts, both nearly skin tight.  Needless to say, she looked incredible as she lifted and toyed with her massive weights.  It was becoming more difficult to disguise my considerable enjoyment as I watched her.

Of course, I still maintained a professional approach to our sessions.  I always tried to suggest exercises based on their potential benefit to her progress rather than solely on how much I wanted to see her perform.  Still, Tammi had so much fun with them that it was easy to enjoy the show.  There was, of course, nothing too heavy for her, and her dexterity and control were progressing rapidly.

It was about this time that she got curious about the old Chevy Suburban we'd had brought in.  It was a junker that had belonged to someone on the janitorial staff, and my division had taken it off his hands for a few hundred.  You never know when something like that will come in useful.

I arrived at the gym in the morning to find Tammi standing by the large vehicle, seemingly studying it.  She was clad in a black sport bra that concealed no more of her bounteous cleavage than a normal bra would on a normal woman, and black shorts that barely covered the roundness of her taut behind.  Her feet were bare as always.

She heard me come in and turned carelessly away from the truck.  She moved toward me with a graceful sort of dancing motion, finishing off with a pirouette and stopping in front of me balanced on the toes of one foot with the other extended behind her.  "Good morning," she greeted me with a playful smile.

"And good morning to you," I replied laughingly.  "We're in a good mood today, aren't we?"

"I guess so," she giggled, and began walking back toward the Chevy.  I followed her.

"I was wondering if we could play with this a little today," she said.

"Absolutely.  Whatever you'd like."

She walked slowly around it.  "Does it work?"

"Uh...I don't think so.  And they would have siphoned out the gas anyway."

She nodded.  "So it's okay if I damage it a little?"

I swallowed nervously.  "Yeah, I guess so."

She circled the oversized vehicle a second time.  "I'm just not sure what the best way would be to..."  Without finishing the sentence, she slipped a hand under the front bumper and felt around for a second.  Suddenly the front tires shot off the ground as she casually raised the bumper above her head.  She gripped it nonchalantly as she examined the undercarriage.  "Hmmm," she mumbled.  Her arm was bent at about a 45 degree angle.  Now she placed her other hand further underneath, finding a relatively solid grip.  Slowly, but without any sign of strain, she raised the back end from the ground.  Once she had the truck level, she carefully shifted her hands one at a time until she was standing underneath it with its weight centered above her.  At no time did she so much as breathe deeply.

"Ew.  It's dirty under here," she commented, wrinkling her nose.  She removed one of her hands from the truck and wiped it on the scant fabric of her shorts, then rested it on her hip.  The arm supporting the truck wasn't even fully extended, but slightly bent.  She looked like a Hooters waitress carrying a plate of hot wings.  I kept the comparison to myself.

"Well done!" I exclaimed, intending to compliment her on her control more than her strength, though it was the latter that had my heart racing.  She hadn't done any damage to the bumper or undercarriage while gripping it.

She grinned in response to my praise, and jokingly pumped the truck up and down a few times.  It was clear the waitress would have had more difficulty with the wings.  Next she reached one hand over to the side of the truck and with the other gave a push upwards on the center.  The massive vehicle rotated in the air; Tammi dexterously caught it on her outstretched hands and balanced it on its side.  "Whooo!" she squealed excitedly.

"Careful," I cautioned, but couldn't help grinning myself.  She had come so far.

"Don't worry, that was easy.  What else can we try?"

I pondered.  "Do you think you could pick it up by one end?"

"I can try," she responded, and slowly lowered it.  She bent only at the waist rather than at the knees as she set it down on two wheels, probably because the damn thing felt so light to her.  I wondered briefly if there was another reason she had chosen such a provocative position.  The two tires nearest her met the ground as softly as a feather landing on a pillow, but she allowed the other two to slam to the ground with a mighty crash.  She seemed to enjoy the noise, a deafening reminder of how much weight she had been effortlessly handling.

She moved to the back end and with her right hand gripped a corner of the chassis.  She stretched her other hand as far as she could toward the opposite side, but came up well short.  Sighing, she straightened up again.  "Too wide," she grunted.  "Let's see what we can do about that."

She bent down and placed her left hand at the center of the bumper, then gently pushed in with it while she pulled gradually on the right side.  "Tell me if I'm gripping it too hard," she called to me.  I watched her right hand to make sure she wasn't going to crush the metal altogether.  With comical ease she began easing the corner in, bending the layers of metal to her will.  She narrowed the width of the vehicle's rear by about a foot, then moved to the opposite corner and repeated the tactic.  When she was finished, the vehicle looked as if it had backed into a telephone pole at a considerable speed.  Its width was now within her grasp, so to speak.

"That's better."  She grinned and bent down again, getting a grip on either corner.  She slowly straightened up, doing her best to ease all four tires off the ground simultaneously.  There was some scary creaking and groaning, but the body help up against the strain of its own unbalanced weight, and her grip held without crushing the iron.

She straightened her arms, holding the truck horizontally in front of her at chest level, and giggled.  "Piece of cake," came her sweet, confident voice.

I was overwhelmed by this particular display.  Awestruck, I approached her.  I hesitantly reached out my hand to touch hers where it gripped the warped metal.  Her skin was soft and warm, showing no sign of any strain.  I slowly brushed my fingers along her arm, feeling the hard but untaxed muscle beneath her silky skin.  I was crossing the line between detached observation and personal attraction, but I couldn't help myself.  I struggled to explain my actions.  "I, uh...I haven't had a look at your musculature under stress...up close..."

She nodded and smiled nervously.

"Is it hard?  Uh, difficult?"

"Oh no," she shook her head, "it feels like a toy.  Like hollow plastic, almost like air really.  The only hard part is not squeezing too hard, but I think I've got that down pretty well now."  She smiled at me again, then looked away.

I removed my hand from her arm.  "I see."  I licked my dry lips.  "Then you can lift it higher?"

"Oh, no problem."  She swiftly raised the truck above her head until it was vertical.  It stayed rock steady in her grasp.

"What would happen," I said slowly and quietly, "if you were to try to compress it further?"

"Let's find out," she replied.  I backed away slightly.  Keeping the truck over her head, her arms almost fully extended but not quite, she began to bring her hands together.  The rear of the truck crumpled noisily, slowly compacting between her small, feminine hands.  As before, neither her face nor her arms betrayed any effort whatsoever.  She watched her progress calmly and impassively as her hands drew inexorably closer.  Layers of iron and steel folded and cracked between and around them.  The rear window suddenly shattered, showering down on her.  She blinked away shards of glass, her face still an unmarred vision of flawless beauty.  Within seconds, the entire rear half of the huge vehicle was devastated beyond recognition, tapered to a point less than six inches wide, which she gripped with one hand.  With the other she brushed the last fragments of glass from her hair.  "So?  What do you think?" she asked, holding the vanquished Suburban towards me as if for inspection.

"Tammi," I breathed, "I think our work is finished."

Her face fell.  She dropped the truck abruptly to the ground with a crash.

"You've developed far beyond what I thought possible in so short a time.  You've learned not only to control your strength but to use it as you wish without endangering others.  Your brain and body are in perfect sync, and will continue to be no matter how strong you get.  Simply put, there's nothing you can't do."

She nodded understandingly, but there were tears in her eyes.

"Tammi," I said firmly, doing my best to hide my own disappointment, "congratulations.  You've done exceptionally well.  You're free to go."  And I did something I'd done only once before.  I held out my hand for her to shake.

Now the tears spilled down her radiant cheeks.  She took my hand and shook it, gently but firmly.  Then her arms enveloped me in a powerful embrace, a bear hug worthy of a large, strong man, but no more.  "Thank you," she whispered in my ear, "thank you so much."  And she kissed me softly on the cheek.

"You're welcome," I mumbled.

Without another word, she left the room.

* * * * * * *

I made the arrangements for Tammi to be allowed to leave.  She had agreed to be our test subject, but couldn't ask her to stay if we were no longer conducting tests on her.  We had all the data we needed, and we had saved her life.  And of course, quite literally, we couldn't have forced her to do anything or stay anywhere she didn't want to.

But the next morning she was in my office again.

"Come to say goodbye?" I asked.

"No.  Sean, yesterday you said there was nothing I couldn't do, and that's why I was free to go."  I nodded.  "Well, if there was something I couldn't do, something basic and necessary for a normal life, wouldn't I have to stay and keep working with you?"

I nodded again.  "I suppose so.  Is there?"

She stared at the floor and slowly nodded her head.

"What?"

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, and emptied the contents of a paper bag onto my desk.  I examined the many pieces of what appeared to be hard black plastic.  Some were cracked, others obviously broken apart, and a few might have been slightly melted.  They were of many sizes, but most were quite small.  In fact, a fine layer of black dust was just now settling.

"Can't say that I do."

Tammi turned a bright red.  "It's a...a dildo."

I looked from her fearful face back to the fragments of plastic.  A slow revelation crept into my brain.  As sexually exciting as I had found her transformation, I had never once given any thought to what it would mean for her sexuality.  I nodded slowly.  "I see."

* * * * * * *

"The fact is, this challenge isn't that different from the ones you've already overcome."

A couple of days later, Tammi and I were talking things over in the familiar setting of our 'exercise room,' straddling the bench of the weight set and facing each other.  In the interim, I had thought over how best to handle our new problem, and procured some sturdier tools, so to speak, for Tammi's personal needs.

"You need to condition your muscles to cooperate with your brain and be sensitive enough not to crush objects they, uh, come into contact with.  Same as before."

This conversation might have been more suitable for my office, or Tammi's room, but we both felt most comfortable in the room where we had worked together for so many weeks.  I would have liked to say that this locale was also more associated in my mind with clinical study than with pleasure, but that was not necessarily the case.

"So I think it would be best if you...uh, conducted these exercises on your own.  You don't really need me to, uh, develop yourself in this way."  I gestured toward the collection of specially-made rods of various sizes and materials which were laid out innocently beside me.

Tammi shook her head and gazed at me with wide eyes, deep blue, beautiful eyes.  "You're wrong, Sean.  I do need you."

I started to respond, but she continued, not letting me interrupt.

"You know how I feel about you.  You must be blind if you don't.  And I think you feel the same way about me.  If that's true...if you love me, even though I'm so...freakishly strong...then it would be stupid for you not to help me through this, just like you did through everything else."

I thought carefully before responding.  "Tammi, I do love you.  I think I really do, not just your beauty, not just your strength, but who you really are.  But it's wrong to say I love you even though you're strong.  I don't think you're freakishly strong, I think you're wonderfully strong.  Excitingly strong.  The question is whether I would love you even if you weren't so strong.  And I think...I think the answer is...yes."

She smiled, and it was delicious.  "That's what I suspected, but I couldn't believe it.  That you would love my strength, I mean.  That my strength could actually be a good thing when it came to a man being attracted to me."

"Tammi, you have no idea how attractive it is.  I mean, you're beautiful regardless; you're absolutely gorgeous; but when you show your strength, it's almost overwhelming.  The combination of your feminine beauty and grace, and your incredible power...trust me, you'll have any man you want."

"But Sean, I only want you.  You've been so kind and so supportive since the very beginning, even when I could have killed you by accident, when I couldn't even dress or wash myself, I looked so awful..."

"You looked wonderful..."

"You've done nothing but encourage me every single day since the day I met you.  Without you I don't think I would have kept going."

I gave her a sharp look.

"Believe me, I thought about it a lot.  With my strength, it would have been the easiest thing in the world.  I probably could have caved in my own skull with one punch.  I got so frustrated, especially when I woke up from one of those dreams..."  She looked at me earnestly.  "I used to dream about killing people...by accident...just hugging them, tapping them, even brushing by them on the street, and they would be crushed or torn apart like paper.  It was horrible.  But most of the time it was sex.  Wanting a man, needing a man, and not being able to even touch him.  Or worse, touching him and..." she choked on her tears.

"It's okay," I said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder

"Eventually it was you," she continued.  "Always you.  I wanted you so badly...but I was too afraid of hurting you."  She took a deep breath and dried her eyes, then managed to smile.  "I have no family, no loved ones.  You're the only person in the world that I love.  Whenever I wanted to give up, I thought of you and I knew I could keep going."

Slowly, she reached over and picked up one of the titanium phalluses.  She placed it in my hands.

"Will you help me again?  Please?"

"Of course I will."

She leaned forward, gently caressing my face with one of her lovely, small hands, and pressed her lips to mine.  It was a warm, gentle kiss, softer than even the softest kiss I had received from any normal woman, but rapidly became more passionate.  Her full lips parted; her insistent tongue filled my mouth.  Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me to her.  I felt her nipples harden as her firm breasts pressed urgently against me.  Then just as suddenly, she released me, stood up and took two steps back.  Very simply and without ceremony, she removed her shirt.  She remained motionless, her arms at her sides, as we stared at each other.  I was awestruck by the vision of her upper body; completely powerful and completely sensual.  Her skin was creamy, smooth, flawless.  Her breasts were large, perfectly round, and rose and fell slightly as she breathed.  Her waist narrowed considerably before flaring out to her curving hips.  Her stomach was concave and nearly smooth, but rippled with potent abdominal musculature.  Just as simply, she removed her jeans.  My eyes traveled from her lovely feet, which I'd admired every day for the last month, up her long legs, curvacious with hard, sleek muscle, to the patch of dark hair above her vagina.

She stepped back to me, straddling the bench again.  Once more we kissed, long and lustily.  The bench grew wet between her legs.  Then she laid back, spreading her legs to me.  "I'm ready," she breathed.  "But would you...would you take off your clothes too?"

"Yes," I replied simply, and did.

She gazed longingly at my rigid penis, but accepted the necessary truth as I once again picked up the metal dildo.  It was about a foot long, but with a diameter of only one inch.  Some were thicker, and I wondered if it would be best to start large as we had with her other training.  But I somehow wanted this to be a genuine sexual appearance for us both, not just some test of her inhumanly powerful body.  It still felt like our first time.

I rolled the solid titanium pole between my hands.  "It's a little cold."

She smiled.  "Trust me, it doesn't matter."

I placed the tip at her lips and slowly eased it in.  She sucked in air, her full breasts rising magnificently on her chest, and closed her eyes.  I placed one hand on the inside of her thigh as, with the other, I began to slide the metal slowly in and out of her.  Her thick juices coated it quickly.  She gave a soft moan.

"Just relax," I whispered.  "Let yourself feel it without resisting it."

"Mmm-hmmm..." she responded passionately.  I increased my pace slightly, but told myself to make this last as long as I could.  My other hand slid up her thigh to her waist, then over the hard ripples of her abdomen.  "Yes," she whispered, and met my hand with hers.  She gave it a gentle squeeze, then released it again, telling me it was free to explore.

I slid it around her waist to her back, which she arched off of the bench.  Hard muscle flexed under every inch of silky skin I touched.  I slid down to her ass and felt solid, rounded muscle.

"Oh Sean..." Tammi breathed with desperation in her voice.  I reached forward now, sliding my hand up her body to her heaving breasts.  One at a time I explored them in awe.  Never had I felt such soft firmness, or imagined that they could be so large and still so solid.  My hand could not envelop even half of one of them, yet they held their perfect shape easily as I caressed, lifted and squeezed them in every way I could think of.

Her legs rose on either side of me; her ankles crossed at the small of my back.  Slowly she pulled me closer, until my twitching erection touched her pelvis just above where I was still thrusting the dildo deeper and deeper into her.  She rose from the bench, her abs visible as they easily leveraged her weight.  Now her breasts thrust forward before my face, nearly filling my range of vision.  I kissed and suckled them as she threw her head back, her nipples diamond-hard in my mouth.  Her hands stroked gently but passionately up and down my back.

Minutes later her head came forward.  Her luxurious hair enveloped my face as her lips sought mine.  "You feel so good..." she breathed, "...I can't control it much longer."  She knew it wasn't physically me inside her, but like me she knew that in a much more real and meaningful sense, it was.  We both understood what came next.  She unwrapped her legs from around me and I stood up.  Taking a position beside her, I continued my thrusting.  By now I could drive the glistening titanium nearly all the way into her.  Fluid was flowing from her cunt, drenching the bench and dripping down onto the floor.  She lay back and moaned through gritted teeth, "Give it to me.  Give it all to me!"

I plunged the rod into her with all my might, over and over again.  "Feel it," I reminded her, "feel it and respond to it.  Your muscles know how much pressure it can take."

She gasped and reached out, her hand finding a weight resting on the floor.  I knew its 35 pounds were totally insignificant to even one of her fingers.  She clutched it to her chest.  "Oh my god..." she moaned hoarsely.  There was nothing I could say now.  I was pounding the dildo into her pussy as rapidly and forcefully as I could, giving thanks that this room was soundproof.

Her left hand closed around one of the discs of the barbell.  It bent inwards, then cracked and folded as she closed her fist around it.  "Sean...Sean!!!" she screamed as her hips bucked wildly.  Her voice began a deeply guttural growl, then rose to a wail of ecstasy.

It was all over in a minute.  Her climax assaulted her violently, leaving her sweaty, breathless and spent.  She did nothing but lie there and heave deep breaths for several seconds, still looking impossibly gorgeous.  I studied the object in my hand, a sex toy constructed of the most durable alloy known to man, which was now clearly misshapen but at least recognizable.  Its tip and most of its length had been compressed significantly and slightly bent in a couple places, while the base which I had gripped seemed to have swelled.

"Holy shit, that felt good," Tammi said, sitting up suddenly.  "Wow."

I showed her the dildo which had sacrificed itself for her pleasure.

"Oh my god.  Damn."

"Actually, I think you did very well," I countered.  "You didn't completely obliterate it, anyway."

She laughed.  "It sure felt like I could have.  Fuck, I've never cum like that before."  She looked at the bench, which was badly bent where her hips had bucked against it and completely drenched in her juices.  "I think my sex drive is as enhanced as the rest of me."

I chuckled.

"Really," she continued.  "I was totally spent a minute ago, but I feel completely rejuvenated now."  She looked at my cock; I was still as hard as ever from the spectacle I had just witnessed.

"I think it's your turn."

She wrapped her palm around the base of my shaft and planted a kiss on the tip.  I twitched, feeling as if I might cum without any further provocation.  But she squeezed gently, then began to stroke along its entire length, which was considerable.  I felt myself melt into her as her lips wrapped around my head and began to suck, powerfully but tenderly.

* * * * * * *

If we had looked forward to our 'exercise sessions' before, we lived for them now.  The next seven days were passed exclusively in our private realm of power and pleasure.  We ate early in the morning and late at night, slept fitfully for a few hours, and spent the rest of our time in constant sexual experimentation.  Tammi craved variety, and would try any form of stimulation with any material, letting me pleasure her one time, satisfying herself another as I watched, then requiring both my attentions and her own simultaneously.  The positions she employed were also endless, and many would not have been possible for any other woman.  Her entire body was so strong that she could support and balance her weight on any part of it, fingers, toes, knees, or breasts.  Her ligaments were also apparently restructured in some way, as she proved as flexible as any gymnast or acrobat I could recall seeing.  She invented new uses for the instruments of our previous experimentation.  Whether compressing a giant beam until she could impale herself on it, wrapping a barbell around one of her luscious legs, or pulverizing the Suburban's engine block with her breasts as I fucked her from behind with one of its pistons, she constantly surprised me with her creativity as well as her unsurpassable strength.  Between her monumental orgasms, she would service my needs as often as I could stand it, combining the same endless inventiveness with surprising gentleness and patience.  She could bring me to climax with her hands, mouth, feet or breasts, while with another part of her amazing body performing an impossible and incredibly sexy feat of strength, all of which she seemed to enjoy at least as much as her own gratification.  On one occasion she slid my cock between her breasts with one hand as I rested comfortably in her other arm, watching her crush a dozen tons of steel between her thighs.

As treasured as that moment was, it was far from my mind now as I stood over Tammi's pert, round ass thrusting toward me in time to my strokes with the dildo.  Her weight was resting on her fingertips, her legs stretched into the air above her torso as she glanced at me between them.  Between her feet, above her head, she held a three foot cube block of steel which weighed six and a half tons.  "Come on," she grunted as her toes dug into the sides of the metal, "you can do it harder than that!"

In fact I couldn't, not much, but I pounded her slippery pussy with fresh vigor, and she squealed with delight.  Her legs spread apart, the massive steel cube firmly planted on the toes of one foot, until they formed a horizontal line parallel with the floor.  She shifted her weight slightly onto only one hand, and with the other grabbed the cube from her outstretched foot.  Still her pelvis matched my thrusting, and she grunted in ecstatic agony as she crushed the steel against her chest.  Its metallic groan mingled with her guttural one; her toes pointed at opposite walls.  The steel warped and bent itself around her hand, arm, breasts and torso.  Her gorgeous face contorted into a grimace which could have been pain but was in fact the raptures of sexual bliss.  "Nngg, NNGGGG, AAAAHHHHHGGHHHH!!!!!!!......"

Her screams echoed off the walls and died away.  Her body tensed completely, every muscle sharply apparent, then slowly relaxed.  Her legs came together around mine and lowered to the ground, her arm slowly lowering her back to the floor, her eyes closing peacefully.  She breathed deeply, the mangled steel rising and falling on her chest.  Moments later, I knew, she would be fully recovered and ready for whatever might be next, but I savored the temporary image of her stunningly beautiful face and body, peaceful and calm.  I also savored the knowledge that the relatively insubstantial plastic dildo in my hand, like the last several we had used, was entirely unharmed.

* * * * * *

I reached the gym extremely early the next morning, but found Tammi already there.

"How did you sleep?" she asked me casually as I closed the door behind me.

"Didn't get a wink," I grinned.  "You?"

"Nope," she laughed.  Nothing had been said, but we both knew that today was going to be the day, the moment we'd both looked forward to so eagerly, so impatiently, for a week that had seemed like eternity.

"I like the outfit," I joked.  She was wearing the clothes I had first seen her in, an unattractively bulky sweater and loose, ugly pants.

"I don't," she replied.  "That's why I wore them."  To my questioning look she only replied, "First things first.  I don't want us to be disturbed."

The door had a lock, of course, but on top of that there was no reason anyone else would ever come to this room.  Nevertheless, Tammi walked over to the largest steel cube in the room, hefted its 55 tons onto her palm, and sauntered back to the door.  She dropped it to the ground, effectively barring entrance or exit to anyone not hundreds of times stronger than a hydraulic forklift.

She hopped up onto it and sat demurely on its edge, fifteen feet high.  "Now," she cooed, "about these clothes..."  She tugged at her collar.  It began to tear.  Grasping the fabric, she tore it down the center.  Her succulent flesh peeked out from underneath the rough material.  But she didn't stop with her shirt.  Next came the pants, their thick waistband tearing between her fingers like paper.  She pulled on them and they came off in her hands like athletic tear-away pants.  Of course, it was only her hardened body that could burst apart the strong seams as if they were weak snaps.  She shed the remains of her shirt and stood up, displaying her creation.

For under her clothes she wore a kind of underwear, the only kind I had ever known her to wear, but nothing like I'd ever seen in a Victoria's Secret catalog.  Over her breasts were placed a pair of iron discs which had once been 50 pound weights, but which were now sculpted to the contours of her awesome chest.  Holding them in place were thick, heavy looking chains running around her back and over her shoulders.  Essentially, she was wearing a bra of iron which might have weighed more than 150 pounds.

Her "panties" were of the same construction, consisting of another 50 pound disc which had been elongated and crushed between her powerful thighs, held in place by more chains.  As she turned around, I saw it was in fact a thong, and shuddered at the thought of her mighty glutes squeezing the iron to the thin strand that it now was.

She stepped off the cube and landed lightly in front of me with a jangle of chains.  "Could you help me take off my bra?" she teased, offering her back to me.  There was no latch or clasp, only solid chain links.

"Oh, that's right," she giggled.  "You couldn't even lift my bra."  She grinned.  "Well I guess that'll have to wait.  First, your clothes are coming off."

I started to undress, but she had no intention of letting me do it.  In a flash she had torn my shirt apart and was reaching for my belt.  Her nimble fingers ripped the leather apart.  She grasped the front of my jeans with one hand and the rear with the other, and pulled them completely apart with ease.  My erection sprang to attention.

"Much better," she smirked, and turned away.  She strode slowly across the room, letting me admire her rock solid body and its iron adornments which seemed insubstantial in comparison.  "Now what were we talking about?  Oh yes, the bra..." she reached a hand behind her back and tugged playfully at the chain.  "Let's see if I can figure out how it works."  She turned back to me and stared deep into my eyes as the chain drew tight against her skin.  Individual links were already stretching, straining.  One popped, then another, and suddenly the entire bra was on the floor and her magnificent breasts were heaving proudly, even larger than I'd remembered them.  "And as for this," she growled, grasping the strands of chain that hugged her hips, "I'm just too impatient to bother."  She yanked upwards, and the links tore away.  But her crossed legs held the distorted disc in place, and she smiled coyly at me as her thighs flexed impressively.  A second later, the front and back halves clanked to the floor.

She walked back to me and kissed me passionately, needily, as her arms encircled me.  I returned her embrace, holding her silky, warm, and steel-hard body as tightly as I could.  Gracefully she lowered herself to the floor, pulling me onto her.  There would be no more elaborate stunts, no impossible displays or spectacular contortions this time.  With the eagerness of a new bride, the expertise of an practiced lover, and the pure love of a lifelong companion, she took me into her.

I luxuriated in her warmth, in the tenderness and sensuality of her womanhood.  She was incredibly wet, as she always was.  Her legs wrapped around me as her lips found mine, and for a long time we rocked back and forth in slow, passionate lovemaking.  But we both knew when it was time to shift gears, and before long I was slamming myself into her as hard as I could.  She helped me, supporting my weight with her arms and legs while I gripped her hips and drove myself into them over and over.  Then we shifted, and I found myself clutching her amazing breasts while she held herself at an angle which only her tireless abdominals could have managed.  Suddenly she cried out like never before, and I knew that she had guided my penis to a secret place where no dildo had reached.  Her entire body quaked, and if I had been thinking clearly I would have feared for my life.  But my only thought was the intense pleasure flooding my own body, threatening to overwhelm my senses, seemingly never to end.  It could have been hours we remained in this state, or it might have been only a moment, but neither of us could perceive time.  The pleasure built and built, isolating us both in a world of only each other.

* * * * * *

It was a long time before either of us said anything.  My head rested on her breast; her arm hung loosely over my back; my penis rested inside her gently pulsing vagina.  She moaned happily, and I shifted slightly, planting a kiss on her warm breast.

"Sean."

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I laughed.  "Of course."

"I've never even dreamed that I could feel that good."

I could only nod in total agreement.

"But I think it would be even better if we tried something..."

I smiled.  It was going to be a long day.  In fact, I had a feeling nearly every day would be a long day for quite a while.

* * * * * * *

The End.