The really big apple

I've been spending some time in New York lately, doing a little favour in exchange for the biggest penthouse apartment I've ever seen.

All I had to do was get rid of a 50 storey skyscraper, without scratching the buildings around it. A piece of cake. Well, I tried it first on a single floor house, but when I pushed my fingers into the solid concrete foundation and lifted it, half the house crumbled on top of me. That was fun, especially getting rid of the rubble, but that wouldn't really work for the skyscraper. When I asked Jason about, he mused that "If only you could lift it in a dozen places at once." I liked that idea.

First, I dug out a part of the foundation, using my smooth hands to scoop away reinforced concrete like it was sand, until I made a wide enough gap to put my hands underneath. When I was finished, there was a two meter deep slit underneath the walls of the building. Next, I put my hands underneath and threw them up, pushing the reinforced steel and hardened concrete up like it weighed little more than a feather. Then, in far less then the blink of an eye, I moved to the right two meters and repeated the move. In less then a tenth of a second, I'd done my trick on the whole north wall and could already seen the skyscraper tip over the side. 

I quickly ran to the other side, but halfway there I noticed a large bulldozer blocking my path. There was no time to move around, so I simple went through. In midstep, my foot carved through the four inch dozer blade, followed by my calve, which left a wide gap from the bulging muscle. Next was my thigh, which went through just as easily. When my breast hit the bulldozer, my nipples instantly hardened, punching out two little disks of metal which probably ended up embedded in a building across the street. The metal flowed around my body, either being thrown aside or crushed between my legs or in my cleavage. I loved the feeling of hard steel bending against my far harder body, the tingle I get from using my strength to exert forces far greater than any material can withstand. The only thing I regret is that I was in to much of a hurry to enjoy the feeling.

A hundredth of a second later, I arrived on the other side of the skyscraper, lifting the skyscraper there as well, then repeating it for the other walls. 

The sight for anyone watching would have been amazing. They would see a hundred Amandas, muscles large enough to embarrass any professional body builder, put their hands underneath a section of the skyscraper and effortlessly throw it up in the air, while a 50 tonne bulldozer exploded into a million pieces.

I just stood underneath, watching the building fly higher and higher, until it was nothing but a tiny speck, which disappeared as it started it's trip out of the solar system, making it the largest man made (or should I say girl made) object in space. It would have taken a demolition crew months to tear down the building, leaving them all exhausted every day. For me, it took a few seconds, and it left me hoping that the moving company had already put up the bed, because I was going to christen the apartment. Several time.

Disposal

"Where have you been this time?" Jason asked. "And what got broken?" "Nothing that wasn't supposed to break" I responded. "Come on babe, don't be so mysterious, you know I hate when you do that. Besides, I know you love showing off, so tell me." His hand was slowly moving over my stomach, softly stroking it. "You know me to well" I responded.

"Well, there was this guy, he had a little problem disposing of his trash..." Jason interrupted "So you're a garbage girl now?" "I am when all of it is so-called 'hard' and 'strong' iron and steel. Now stop interrupting." I put a finger over his lips, but pulled it back when he tried to lick it. "At least skip ahead to the good bit?"

"Alright. You see, a lot of the metal was in pretty small bits, already ground up or just in cans or other tiny things. So I had to do something with that first. First, I noticed that the giant steel press wasn't actually broken, it was just the massive hydraulic pistons that didn't work. Well, thousands of horsepowers could easily be replaced by one girlpower."

"Ohh, interest..." Jason tried to say, before I covered his mouth with my hand. "Shut up, honey, or do you want me to convince you?" He thought about it for a second, then shook his head. "Good."

"So, as I was about to say... First, I had to get the pile of metal into the crusher. Now, it was all separated out into neat piles, one for each type of metal I guess. I didn't much feel like picking up every bit one by one, so I looked around a bit for something to make it easier. I spotted some old girders laying around, those would be perfect. I softly grabbed the beam, pressing my fingers into the steel, and pulled it out underneath a pile of other metal. The stack stayed up, which was a little boring, but hey, I can't have everything." I smiled, so did Jason, knowing that if I wanted to, I actually could have everything.

"Well, I had to be really careful, it was only a steel beam, not anything really strong. So, holding it in my hands, I slowly pulled it apart, turning the thick steel beam, just like this." I demonstrated, by hooking my fingers together and pulling on my arms. My shoulders and triceps bulged to three times their regular size and Jason's hands moved to cover a tiny bit of them. "When I had it split about halfway, having pulled 10ft of steel construction beam apart with my fingers..."I drove on of those pretty fingers through a rock on the beach, just to illustrate "I picked up the whole thing and walked to the first stack of metal."

"I put the girder to the ground, using it like a 25 tonne broom. I dug my feet into the ground, shoving the whole 50ft mountain of scrap metal forward. Some pieces were falling off, but I got most of it." "You know" said Jason, having moved his hands to my biceps, which I started flexing for him, making them shoot up to 42 inches. "It would be a lot easier if you had superbreath, you know, like superman. "What? I'm not good enough for you?" I asked teasingly, lifting him off the ground with just my little finger. "I never said tha..." Jason said defensively, before I put my hand over his mouth again. "Shut up honey."

"Well, I shovelled one of the piles of metal into the next, and the next, pushing them all into the gaping hole of the press." "Does this mean you're g..." Jason tried interrupting again, so I decided it was time for more serious matters. I pushed my biceps into his mouth and, very softly, flexed my arms. "As I was saying... I shovelled the metal into the press, then I tossed in my improvised broom as well and threw the lid closed."

"With the hydraulic press out of order, I had to improvise. First, I grabbed the left piston, the one that was broken and pulled it off. My arms were bulging with muscle, my back widening with bulges and grooves...." I could see Jason's reaction at my graphic description. Good, just what I was going for. "Without any effort, I tore away the hardened steel. Then, I switched on the right piston. As it started compressing, I put my fingers on the point where the left piston used to be. I easily kept pace with the hydraulics, even though all the force of the machine was focussed into a single piston.

After a while, the two sides of the press were about halfway closed, the one remaining cylinder burst apart, I guess the pressure was to much for it. That was a little annoying, but not really that much of a problem." I flexed the arm Jason was licking just a little extra, to show him why it wasn't a problem. "It's to bad I had to use both arms, you know how I love showing off, but the metal was just to weak; I had to spread out the force. After a little more squeezing, I realized I'd already bent the meter thick press out of shape. It probably wasn't going to work again anyway." Jason seperated from my arm. "You broke it, didn't you?" "Only a little." I pouted. "You broke it a little? Amanda, you never do 'just a little' of anything. So, what happened."

"Well, when I saw it was already wrecked, I decided that made it scrap. Scrap I could get rid off. So when I was done pushing the not-so-hydraulic ram in, I moved on to the sides and started pushing those inwards as well." "Was it supposed to do that?" Jason asked. "Does it matter?" "I guess not, so what did you do with it?" "Oh" I said "you want to see?"

We walked around the beach, coming around a bend in the bay. "What is THAT!?" Jason said, his mouth hanging open. "Oh that?" I gestured to the thing on the beach. It looked like a barbell, but the bar was over a meter thick, the weights each the size two cars on top of each other. "This is just my little souvenir." I walked towards it, putting one hand underneath, then, without any effort, I stood up, curling the massive weight in one hand. I smiled at Jason, while I kissed biceps that rose up as high as my head. "You like?" 

Private Beach

It's getting a little busy here, quite a few tourists are coming in lately, most of them not nearly as attractive as the few that were here before, they were loud, annoying and stealing my spot on the beach. I didn't really care so much, I could just ignore them all, but Jason was a little annoyed at all the men (and women) staring at me. We weren't about to move to another island, especially because this one was so perfect, so I had to solve the problem some other way

I'd made sure Jason was deep asleep that night, that was one of the more pleasant parts of my plan. The second part was looking for good spot. A few miles south of the only sandy beach on the island, I found the perfect location, a 100 ft sheer cliff leading to a beautifully sheltered bay that would be in the sun all day. Now, I didn't need to tan, even a year in the sun wouldn't change my already perfect skin colour, but it was a lot more fun in the sun.

I jumped down on the small rock ledge near the ocean, it shattered under my weight. That gave me and idea. Originally, I intended to move a few hundred thousand tons of sand to make a new beach, but I hard a much amusing plan now.

I picked the eastern rockwall, the only one that would cast a shadow, blocking the view of the sunset. Smiling, I drove my small fist into the rocks at several times the speed of sounds. My powerful muscle driving the rock apart, my invulnerable skin unharmed by the hard, sharp rock. I pulled my hand out, softly blowing the dust from my fingers, while the shockwaves travelling through the rock destabilized the cliff. A second later, it came crashing down while I stepped back. 

I picked up the largest rock near my feet. It was over 20 ft high, at least twice as wide. As I put my hands underneath and lifted it, my muscles swelled to massive size. My forty inch biceps easily strong enough to lift the rock, my perfectly round ass pushing out to match my thighs. Raising it up and down a few times, feeling the muscles in my back, shoulders and thighs bulge under the inhuman weight, I considered keeping this one rock, just to excite Jason, but I really didn't want this ugly rock on my new beach. I dragged it down, cracking it apart over my knee. The two halves crashed to the ground.  I picked the broken half up one handed and smashed it against my ballooning biceps, breaking it in a dozen pieces. 

I moved from rock to rock, breaking them apart against my legs, arms, breasts and even using my flawless face. Moving faster than any normal human could see, I had reduced the massive boulders to fist-sized rocks and smaller pebbles. Of course, rocks and pebbles make for a lousy beach, so I made them smaller still. 

Picking up a rock, I crushed it in my fist, grinding the rock first to gravel, then to sand, then to a much finer powder. I felt how fine the grains were, I could see how perfectly round each grain was, this would make the perfect beach. Moving dozens of times faster then before, I reduced the rocks to fine sand, crushing them between my fingers, my hands, reducing them to powder by placing them between my breasts and flexing slightly. A few of the smaller rocks I ground into dust by placing them between the grooves of my abs, or between my flawless buns. I crushed rocks between my massive lower arms and my even more massive biceps, tennisball sized rocks were reduced to microscopic dust between my toes, even my eyelids made short work of the hard rock.

Two hours later I had spread out hundreds of thousands of sand in the bay. In the dark, I could the waves breaking on the sand, see the perfect view. This was perfect, and best of all, nobody could reach it without mountain climbing gear, unless they're me of course.

Stepping back in the hotel room, I could see Jason wide awake and dressed. "Amanda, where were you?" He asked in that cute worried tone, "There was an earthquake and..." His words trailed off as I slightly tilted my head, looking at my massively pumped biceps. I slowly walked towards him. He sighed, smiling at the same time, "Alright, what'd you do this time?" I lifted Jason from the ground and carried him back to bed, he was already feeling my pumped biceps. "I'll show you in the morning, I promise you'll like it."

Testing Amanda - part 5.2

The next was strange. I had no idea what to expect and it started out strange. First, the wind cut out, then the noise from outside. Suddenly, I felt something pushing on my left arm. I didn't see anything, but this must have been the energy field Jason mentioned. The pushing force increased, folding around my whole left side. I decided to give in and see what would happen.

The invisible force pushed me across the desert floor. It might still get interesting, when I felt a similar force on my right, followed close after by all other sides. Don't get me wrong, it felt nice, like a warm, tender hug. I was hoping the force would increase, but it didn't. Then I realized it was already at maximum power, pushing with thousands of pounds per square inch. I didn't so much feel the force, as noticed it because it was crushing my bikini bottom. The tiny string was being smeared out against my body. 

Well, if this was it, I thought we might as well move on to the next test, while I was still feeling good from the electric shocks. I pushed my arms out to my sides, hoping to break the force field, but it just moved around, still softly hugging my much harder body. "It's not doing anything for me, let’s go to the next one" I called out, but the field stopped the sound from coming out. Well, this was annoying. I could always destroy whatever was generating the field, but I was going to need it again later on.

Instead, I started pushing back against the field. My muscles were pretty relaxed, so my biceps were only about 18 inched unflexed, my thighs a mere 31 inches, you get the idea. So, I started flexing, each movement being resisted by the field, but that didn't bother me in the slightest. I went through a whole posing routine, each movement increasing my pump, each inch I added to my muscles increasing the pressure on the field. After the first set of poses, my biceps were 26 inches unflexed, during my second double biceps pose they were a massive 32 inched, at the third, I could (and did) kiss them without moving my head. My thighs growing to 56 inches, each of them more massive than my waist, which was now covered in a 3 inch deep washboard, the force field shaping around each block of super hard muscle. 

My breasts had grown, from their usual E-cup to a massive G-cup, being pushed out another four inches by my pectoral muscles. My back had gained more valleys than an average country, but they were much harder than mere rock. My buns were perfect spheres, their strength having reduced the tiny string to vapor long ago. I could feel the pressure of the field on my body fragmenting, it was close to failing. With one most-muscular pose, flexing my whole body to its limits, the field failed. It burst apart, instantly disappearing.

I heard a loud explosion underground, something must have overloaded in the machines that created the field. It confirmed my theory; nothing on this world could contain me. It was a great feeling, being this powerful. Running my hands over my body, feeling each ridge and groove only added to my excitement. "Enjoying the show boys?" I shouted at the bunker, "This'll give you something to aim for with your guns." I said, cupping my breasts, showing my nipples as the bull’s-eyes for the next round of tests.

-To be continued-

Testing Amanda - 4

This is part 4, start reading at the bottom and don't forget to read Mr. Stone's sections in the comments.

------------------------------------------------------------

Well, I could already tell it was going to be dull. Just me, sitting in a room, being bored. I already knew I didn't have to breathe, I learned that during my little undersea swimming sessions. The lack of air wouldn't be a problem, so I just said down, tossing the little remote from one hand to another as the air was sucked out. After a few minutes, there was a total vacuum and nothing to do. I started by squeezing the little remote to pieces, that entertained me for all of two seconds. I sighed, seeing my air form little crystals that quickly dropped to the ground without air to float on.

I played with that for a bit, making little streams and circles of ice crystals, until my lungs were empty. Without any air I didn't feel any less comfortable, nor did the extremely low temperature or lack of air pressure cause me any problems, so I just waited for time to tick by. I started doodling a bit, but lacking paper and a pen I used the next best thing and started scraping deep grooves in the steel floor with my fingernail. Flicking away the residue from underneath my nail left it embedded a good four inches in the wall. I'd covered about a square meter with little drawings (nothing really good, apparently drawing well was one of the few things I couldn't do) and most of my little armored snack was gone.

I sighed again with boredom, but nothing happened, my lungs being empties out already. I was about to leave, door or no door, when I heard a voice from the speaker: "Time for the next phase, how are you feeling?" "Extremely bored" Is what I wanted to say, but without air, no sound came out of my perfect lips; I just raised my thumb to the camera.

Softly at first, then louder and louder, I could hear a hissing noise. The nerve agent was supposed to be odourless and invisible, but I could clearly it was different from ordinary air. It looked slightly odd. It smelled slightly odd as well, sweet, warm and musky, it smelled like the slightest whiff of perfume, combined with freshly baked bread. I sniffed it in deep, feeling the strange sensation going down into my lungs. It didn't hurt; in fact, it felt pleasant, like being softly caressed from the inside. 

I kept taking deep breaths, enjoying the warm and soft sensation. It wasn't boring at all; I could learn to like this. It was just too bad that a millionth of the nerve gas in this room would kill a dozen non-super human ten times over. That probably meant I should take any of it home. A pity really, but I wouldn't want to kill anyone.

"Ready for the final phase?" the voice came from the speaker. "Well, if we have to." I responded, "could you leave the gas inside though?” "We uhh... that's... the radiation kills everyt... I mean, it deactivates the gas, turning it into methane and oxygen." "Aww, that's too bad,” I responded, taking the last bite of my armor plate, crushing it with my tongue and sloshing the molten steel around in my mouth. "Well, let's get it over with then." 

Suddenly, I felt heat. It wasn't the air getting warmer, it was just me. The radiation was just heating me. At first, it was just the tiny outer layer of my skin, not even the high energy radiation able to penetrate my soft, flawless skin. Then, I "changed" something, like how I could change the hardness of my skin to touch, I changed the skin's resistance to radiation.

Now, the heat spread throughout my whole body. Again, I knew instinctively that it wasn't affecting me at all, aside from making me very comfortable. It was like a warm blanket, but not just on the outside but on every bit of my body. As the radiation got more intense, I felt a slight tingle, a very pleasant tingle, all over. I closed my eyes, stroking my body, carefully avoiding destroying my new bikini. As the tingle got more intense I softly moaned from the wonderful feeling it caused. My hand was slowly crawling down my abs, my middle finger already poking underneath my latex-look armor plated g-string. Suddenly the radiation turned off.

"Aww, not now guys, please turn it back on?" "Sorry, the test is over, there's just one final thing to do." A small object dropped from the wall, it looked like an electrical device with two prongs. "Please push that button." I figured it wasn't going to me, so I might as well see what it did. When I pushed the button, I small arc of electricity jumped from one prong to the other. Before the spark arrived, it had already started a reaction in the air. The methane and oxygen combined, forming water, carbon dioxide and heat, lots of heat. 

The explosion was confined to the inside of the room, the blast rolling back and forth over my body with enough force to squish a normal person a hundred times over, it merely stroked gently over my body, rolling past my muscles, over my soft skin and pressing against perfect face, making my breast sway back and forth ever so slightly. The heat added to the radiation making me feel even warmer, even better.  

After what seemed like half an hour, but must have been only seconds, the door opened. "Hi guys. Thanks for that, it was wonderful." I stepped outside, my body still glowing, literally. As I stepped barefoot onto the concrete, it left a dark scorched imprint. I looked down, seeing my bikini glowing red hot, my body must have been equally hot. "I'd shake your hand, but..." I gently grasped a security camera, it instantly burst into flame. "I'm far too hot to handle."

Testing Amanda - 2

This is Part 2, I suggest reading Part 1 first, followed by Mr. Stone's part in the comments.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I quietly laughed to myself during his whole explanation. "Any speed I can reach", we'll see about that, but I smiled and nodded. "Medical help", my smile turned into a wide grin. "650 miles per hour", I couldn't hold it and let out a little chuckle.

"What's the matter", he asked. "Oh, nothing, I'm just looking forward to testing out your equip... I mean, myself." I stepped inside, seeing one wall was covered in one-way glass. Well, one-way if you're not me, I could quite clearly make out four people on chairs and Mr. Stone entering the room behind them. I could also easily hear them talking, mostly about me. 

"Oh, one thing", I asked to nobody in particular, "You wouldn't happen to have a spare outfit for me, would you?" I heard them discussing with each other, the man in the middle of the room, wearing a lot of medals, told another man in a lab coat to tell me they had anything I needed. He pushed a button and repeated every word over speakers in the ceiling. I just smiled and said thanks.

I got on the belt, turned it on and started walking, holding down the button to make it go faster. The man in the lab coat kept reading out my speed over the speakers, while another one read out other data, not over the speakers of course, but I could still hear it.

I started off at a slow jog, "55 miles" I heard as I held down the button. "120 miles" I heard "no change in heartbeat respiration or perspiration", said the other man. I just kept smiling, jogging and holding down the button.

As the numbers got higher, the three men in the room not wearing lab coats started talking more and more, claiming it was impossible for a girl (yes, they called me a girl), to be running at 450, 475, 490 miles per hour without any effort. I sped up, pausing at 650 mph. "This was the record, right?" I asked, not bothered by the insanely fast speed. "Uhh... uhh, yes, it is" a trembling voice came back. "You mean it was", I said, as I held down the button more.

My legs, already a blur to the observers, broke the sound barrier, creating several sonic booms per second as the easily kept pace with the belt. The lab coat stopped telling me how fast I was going, but thankfully, I could still listen in. "She's going 1200 miles per hour and her heartbeat is still normal". "That can't be, she has to be faking it" responded the man with the medals. "No, she's not, it's all real", Mr. Stone responded. I just kept jogging, faster and faster. I might actually have to start running soon.

Of course, I was getting worried a bit now. Not that I would get tired, or that I couldn't keep up, but my leg muscles were getting so pumped, they were about to burst out of my hot pants. "I think it's time for those extra clothes guys" I said, three seconds before my butt tore out of the hot pants, flinging them across the room. "Told you so", I said to the five open-mouthed stares behind the glass.

In the mean time, the belt had sped up to 1950 miles per hour without me noticing. It was starting to shake with every step I took. The observers had stopped talking and were just staring now, as the rest of my muscles were also swelling up from the workout.

When I reached around 2150 miles per hour, something unexpected happened. The treadmill belt gave out, tearing apart and flapping against the rear wall. I didn't expect this, so my next step was right between the motors and gears. It didn't hurt me of course, but it was a step that was propelling me at 2150 miles per hour, so that was the speed I was catapulted across the room. The math was simple: 350 lbs of pure, harder-than-steel muscle * 2150 miles per hour + concrete wall = one large hole and a rather super girl.

They should have been happy I'd been able to brace myself and come to a stop in the hallway, before anyone got hurt, but nooo. As I got up and brushed the concrete shards off of me (crushing a few of them, making the dust worse), the man with the medals slammed the door open, "Sorry I broke your wa..." before I could finish, he started shouting at me. After half a minute of this, I just picked him up by his collar, put him behind me and walked over to Mr. Stone. Holding a massive a slab of concrete in front of me to cover up, I asked "So, what's next?"

My trip - 3

Having taken care of the door, I walked inside, hoping to find something fun. It was a little disappointing at first, all there was were five empty docks that probably held submarines once, but were now completely empty. I could see base plates that once giant cranes, but they had all been removed. This was really annoying.

I walked through the base, venting my frustration on every piece of reinforced concrete wall stupid enough to get in my way. Punching and kicking the strong concrete reduced it to dust and pebbles, but didn't do anything for me. Even ripping out the long strands of rebar never felt like anything more than picking up wet spaghetti and it was just about as exiting.

Finally, after a few minutes of ripping the place apart (I don't think it could have stood any more of me), I noticed a large hatch in the floor. Still feeling pissed, I just punched my hand straight through it, ripping it out in one simple pull. The metal was about two feet thick, and the hatch weighed about 25 tones, not counting the fragments of concrete still hanging on. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed it towards it entrance to land with my other souvenirs.

I jumped down the hole I made and what I saw made my whole trip worthwhile. Below the hatch was row upon row of torpedoes, missiles, mines and raw explosives. This was going to be a lot fun. I reached down, pulling out a 3 ft diameter metal sphere. The metal crumbled in my grasp, but it didn't explode yet. Easily jumping out of the storage bunker, I hugged the mine tight against my armor-plated abs.

Remembering my first encounter with the train, I braced myself against being thrown backwards by the explosion, but when the mine did explode I was still standing in place. The explosion, strong enough to blow a hole in the hull of a ship from several feet away felt wonderful against my body, which was of course far stronger than a little battleship. The shrapnel against the bottom of my breasts felt especially good.

Reaching into the bunker again, I pulled out two torpedoes this time. The 20 ft long, 3000 pound metal cylinders were a little unwieldy, so I broke each of the apart with just one hand, figuring the explosives would probably be in the tip anyway. Well, I was wrong. Both torpedoes blew up right there, the fireball showering me with wonderful heat and energy and hot shrapnel and it felt so great. However, I didn't brace against this one and the explosion threw me back into the concrete wall. I didn't even notice in the pleasure the torpedoes gave me, but later on I learned the trick that if I brace myself, nothing in the world can me move me.

That wasn't important right there though, I was getting excited and I wanted more explosions. Stepping back inside, I gathered several arms full of missiles before easily jumping out, my muscular arms full with a dozen missiles. I put two of them between my breasts, where a light squeeze set both of them off with disappointing pops; my breasts had absorbed every last bit of the explosion though and I could feel all of it. In less than 10 seconds, I had crushed and smashed the rest of the missiles against my body, needing to get more from the storage.

This time, the shape of the torpedoes wasn't lost on me, and I gathered several of them in easy piles before jumping out again. Spreading my legs wide, I rammed one of the giant cylinders down, only to have it explode on impact. Not what I hoped for, but it felt amazing and I needed more, much more. I grabbed a new torpedo and repeated the move, and another and another. When I was out of explosives, I got back in the hole.

Not bothering with safety or restraint anymore, I grabbed as much explosive as I could hold in my arms and started compressing it against myself. I used one of the largest missiles there for a final blast, ramming it inside me a dozen times faster than it was ever designed to go.

In the complete ecstasy I felt at that moment, I don't exactly know what happened. Later the newspapers reported two massive explosions coming from the base. The first, and smaller one, would have been the tens of thousands of tones of high explosive going off. The second, much larger explosion would be me going off. The papers also reported that a loud rumbling was heard, coming from beneath the ruins of the collapsed submarine base, accompanied by loud moans which lasted for at least two and a half days afterwards. Three days later, still enjoying the afterglow, I decided it was time to go home.

Soviet engineering: 0 -- Amanda: several thousand

My Trip - 2

As I came close to the door, I noticed it was a lot bigger than I first thought. It was easily twice as tall as me, which made it about 12ft high and twice as wide. It was surrounded by a wire fence, which I ripped from its posts with a single hand, crumpling it up in my hands like it was tissue paper. I could have had more fun with it, but with the thick steel door ahead, I just tossed it over my shoulder, where it buried itself in a tree.

Standing right outside the door, I decided that slowly would be more fun, but I really wanted to test my strength properly. Luckily, the door was constructed as a sliding door with two halves that met in the middle. I could amuse myself slowly with the left half, and see how fast I break the right half.

Not wasting any more time, I forced my fingers of my left hand into the hardened steel. My nails dug through the door as if it was loose sand, not armor plate. I kept pushing my hand in, amazed at the feeling of the metal simply being pushed aside by my smooth skin and amazing strength. Deeper it went, until my whole hand was in the door, then my lower arm and finally my fingers emerged on the other side, my upper arm halfway into the door. I curled my hand into a fist and starting bending it upward, flexing my biceps.

I could feel, and hear, the inside of the door compressing, bending away from my arm. At the same time, my biceps was stretching the hole I made from 15 inch diameter to a massive 25 inch diameter hole. I can't describe how amazing it feels to have metal being forced around your body. I could feel the amazing force I put into the door, the pressure it caused on my skin, muscles and bone and I could feel how little effect it had on my body. 

Remembering to take it slow, I forced in my other arm, as far away from the original hole as it could go. Slowly, I started pulling on both my arms, hoping to pull this end of the door out. After all, I came here looking for some free weights, I might as well start right away. It turned out that the Soviet Union was better at making frames then doors, because all that happened is that I pulled my muscular arms straight through the hardened steel of the doors, leaving to gashes in the meter thick door. 

Change of plans, I thought. If I can pull it out, I'll push it out. Hoping to enlarge the surface area of my body, I flexed all my muscles, holding my arms out to the side and my legs wide, I started taking small steps towards the door. The first thing that happened was that my breasts touched the door, the cold steel making my nipples swell and press into the door, followed by the rest of my breasts. Not compressing at all, the forced their way into the door. When my thighs touched the door, they too started bending the metal inwards and around them, I was getting a little annoyed. I pressed my whole body to door, when my abs finally touched the door, it stopped bending and I could hear the breaking sound of concrete and rock over the whine of metal. Two more steps and the door dropped inside with a loud smash.

One side down, one to go. Stepping inside the hallway behind the door, it considered the best way to take the other door out quickly. I walked a few dozen feet down the hall, spread my arms wide and started running. In two steps I ran 40 miles per hour and in 30 ft I reached 90 miles, when I spread my arms and legs wide and jumped at the door.

That, friends, is something I can't recommend doing. Well, obviously not for other people, they'd end up with broken bones and in great pain, but I'm not doing it again either. As soon as I'd contacted the remaining half of the door, the steel flowed around me, filling every bit of space it could go. That meant the steel flowed like a liquid around me until the door flew free from the mounting, landing 50ft away from the opening. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was the steel going literally everywhere. Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't mind the cold, hard steel getting into certain parts of my body, that was actually quite pleasurable and something I would experiment with later on during my trip. No, the problem was steel going into other parts of my body. 

The least concern was the metal that got into my mouth. It turns out that, if you have a super powered mouth and tongue, steel is quite tasty with a unique texture. A slightly more annoying problem was steel forcing its way into my nose. A small blow later launched two steel plugs over 10ft into the dirt. No, the biggest problem was steel getting into my ears. I ended up pushing so hard on my ears that the steel liquefied and ran out, what a bother! Still, with my superiority proven over the door, I felt good walking inside.

Amanda 1 : Soviet engineering 0.

My trip - 1

Alright, I planned to do this last night, but I was a bit busy decorating my new house. First things first though.

I was a little frustrated with the lack of a proper, heavy weight, so I asked you what to do. There was a suggestion of lifting ships or old Russian subs. So, I did what any modern would do and went to Google. It turns out there are lots of abandoned soviet sub bases left, some still equipped with whatever it is they use in there. They're closed to the public of course, but I'm not the public.

So, I went to Russia. Other people would have to book a plane ticket, stand in line, sit on a plane, be bored to death etc. etc. I just took a running start, reached the coast in a few minutes of dodging houses and cars, or not dodging them in the case of one unfortunate BMW that is now scattered across a square mile of countryside. Reaching the shore, I took a running jump, clearing half of the Channel in one leap, before swimming the rest of the way in about five minutes. After a comfortable jog of 40 minutes, I arrived at the general location on the Russian coast. 

My muscles had already torn apart my clothing, having pumped up from my super fast walk here to a size that my tight outfit couldn't handle. Not knowing where to start looking, I decided I needed a better view, so I jumped straight in the air and scanned the area. Now, jumping over 200ft straight up wasn't much of a problem for me, it was landing that's hard. I tumbled over on my way down, slamming straight on top of a 50ft tall pine tree, reducing the top half to kindling before bouncing off and landing on my face. Pissed off, I kicked the tree, which exploded in a shower of woodchips. To my credit, the next jump I managed to avoid hitting anything and the one after that, I even landed on my feet. The fourth jump, I finally spotted what I was looking for, a large steel door in a concrete plug in the mountainside.

Walking there, giddy with anticipation, I noticed a sign. It was in Russian, but crosses, skulls and exclamation marks are universal. I don't like being told what not to do, so I grabbed both sides of the sign, ripping it from its foundation. Grabbing a loose hold, so not to bend the metal too much, I rammed it towards me, pulling it tight over my breasts like a sheet of tinfoil. Unlike a sheet of tinfoil, it curved nicely around most of my breasts, except my nipple which was sticking straight through the other end of the sign. This was going to be a nice souvenir for whoever was going to find the leftovers from my day. Tossing the sign aside, I walked towards the steel door, imaging everything inside the base that was just shouting for some fun.

Heavy metal

I need to ask for you help again.

You see, while it's really easy for me to get a pump (I just have to pick up a random car and lift it easily over my head to get my muscles to swell to four times their regular size), it's really hard for me to feel pumped up. I'm looking for something that'll get me a proper workout, not because I need it, but just for that feeling. If you've ever pumped iron, you'll know what I'm talking about.

So far, I've tried the gym, loading up two bars with 450 pounds, curling one of them in each hand. That got my biceps up to a nice 24 inches, but I didn't feel the pump. I grabbed both bars in my left hand, curling 900 pounds one handed with an extended arm. My arm swelled little more, 25 inches, but while it felt heavy and quite nice, it just wasn't "it".

I 'snuck' out the back door, leaving the lock shattered on the floor, I only just fit through the door and my shoulders had gotten that wide. Walking to a closed car park out back, I looked for the largest vehicle I could find. I spotted a large van, I guess somewhere around 3000 pounds and started pushing it up first, curling it afterwards. It was feeling nicer, but still not like a workout used to feel. I tried carefully stacking another car on top, but it kept falling off and I didn't want to damage either car.

I remembered the weights in the gym, I'm sure I could borrow them for a little while. Walking back inside, I'd forgotten about my arms and shoulders, bumping into the doorframe. Or I should say, "Smashing", because there's no such thing as "bumping" into mere wood when you can lift a van one-handed without breaking a sweat. I dislocated the whole frame, crushing some of the brickwork on the left side. I shrugged (breaking off another small part) and walked back in. This time, there was someone else in the lifting area. I just smiled at him as I grabbed my two loaded bars, scooped up at least another 1200 pounds of plates and walked back outside. The man was staring open mouthed as I winked at him. "Mind if I borrow these?"

The nice thing about being super strong is that you never need keys for something like opening a door. I simply grabbed the handle on the back of the van and pulled, opening the door whether it was locked or not. Loading all the weights in the back of the vehicle strained the structure to its limit. The total came to about 5100 pounds, or two and half tons.  

When I picked it up, this time left-handed, my biceps peaked to 27 inches, my shoulders of matching massive size, my pecs jumping out. I was glad I took your advice and wore was pretty much a cloth bag. Still, I lifted the van easily. Sure, it was heavy; I could feel this was more than a dozen professional weightlifters could manage. Don't get me wrong, it's a lot of fun and it sure feels great to lift that much without effort, but that was just the problem, it didn't take any effort. I'd have to curl this for days to even break a sweat and I didn't want to wait that long.

So, I'm asking my readers. Does anyone have any ideas where a super girl can get a little workout? Preferably somewhere quiet where I can do without any clothes and maybe not damage too much. Thanks in advance.

Introductions 2

So, I'd just changed from my small, slightly overweight, couch potato old-me to a 6ft 3 inch iron pumping, fitness champion new-me without noticing a thing, needless to say I was a bit confused. I did wonder how much I weighed now, so I dug up my scales from under my bed and checked.

I had to double check, zero the scales and check if they were accurate two times. The scales spun all the maximum 250 pounds! Now I know why, but at the time I just thought the thing must have been broken, so I just forgot about it. Despite my "broken" scales, I felt great, wondering if I was any stronger.

First though, I had to get dressed. Trying a bra was not going to work, so I just forgot about it, not that I needed one now, my new F-cup was more pert then my smallish B-cup was more. The same applied for panties, I had nothing that was going to fit, so I decided to skip underwear altogether. 

I did what I always did on weekdays, and grabbed whatever was on top of the pile and started pulling it over my head. When I tried pulling it over my new breasts I realized getting dressed was going to be more difficult today, there was no way any of my old clothing was going to fit over my new breasts. Digging through my closet, I found an old blue nightshirt that reached down to my thighs before, now I could just pull it over my breasts and about an inch down my chest, leaving my stomach bare. It was a bit tight around my shoulders, but reached down halfway to my arms. It was much shorter than what I was used to but, I figured, at least it was sunny outside and I didn't have much to be ashamed of anymore.

Pants were going to be impossible. I never had much in the way of legs or glutes before, so I owned mostly wide pants. Now however, I knew none of those pants were going to fit over my thighs, or my new ass. Thankfully, I owned several knee-lengths skirts, which would be closer to miniskirts now, but still acceptable.

I was dressed as well as I was able, found I didn't have to do anything about my hair, which was a disaster before, but fell perfectly straight down now. I grabbed my wallet, winked at the mirror and went out the door.

There was a gym right down the street, not that I'd ever been inside one, which thankfully offered a try-before-you-buy period. I went straight to the free weights, partly because I had no idea how to work the complicated machines, but mostly because there was nobody else there.

One of the weights was still loaded with three large weights on either side; I figured that was a great place to start. I grabbed the weight in my hands; slowly trying to lift it to my chest, doing what I know is a curl. Several things happened at the same time.

First, I actually lifted the bar and the weights up. It didn't feel light. It didn't feel light at all, like I was lifting hundreds of pounds. The strange thing was, despite the huge weight, it wasn't hard at all. I knew it was incredibly heavy and that I should be able to lift it, but at the same time it was so easy, no harder then lifting a glass of water. That wasn't what I was thinking about though; I was distracted with the second thing that happened.

As I lifted the weight, by biceps swelled up. Not just a bit, but massively. Ignoring my shirt like it wasn't there, my arm tore through the sleeve, swelling up to three times what they were before I started lifting. The same happened to my chest, suddenly pushing out another three inches below my breasts, tearing the sides of my shirt. 

I let a yelp, dropped the weight and ran outside, not stopping until I reached my own house. Without noticing I wasn't out of breath at all, I closed the door and locked it. My arms were a little smaller, but when I got out a tape measure, they were 24 inches around, or 29 when I flexed my muscle. I stared at it for a minute, while it shrunk back to it "normal" fitness-pro-sized 14 inches.

I don't remember exactly what I did, or why, but for some reason, I decided to take of my shirt, walk to small parking area near my house, put my hands under the large Hummer belonging to my neighbor and see what happens.

Well, it was better than I expected. As I started to stand up, all my muscles swelled to massive proportions, making my look like the biggest male bodybuilders... no, they were small compared to me. My skin was still flawless, no marks or veins showed on my body, except for one small vein over the crest of my biceps. I removed one arm from underneath the car to look at my biceps; they were an inch bigger then when I came home from the gym. I kept lifting the Hummer, feeling it massive weight, but also feeling completely unburdened. It was so easy, I laughed out loud as I started lifting it overhead, pumping it up and down with just one hand.