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Mona

I first met my wife, Mona, when I answered an ad for someone
to keep the books for a woman's gymnasium. I'd been caught in a
downsizing of the finance department at my company and had been
laid off for about six weeks. With my severance about to run out
and no job prospects in sight, even a part time bookkeeping job
looked pretty good. Besides, I'd always been fascinated by the
more muscular female bodybuilders, and this looked like an
opportunity to meet some, although I had to wonder what a 5'2",
115 lb., unemployed CPA could do if I met one.
I found out sooner than I expected. Mona, the beautiful,
black haired Amazon of a woman who owned and operated the gym,
towered an even 6'7" in her bare feet and weighed 280 lbs. of
massive, solid, shapely muscularity that was clearly defined
through the tight fitting body suit she wore. Each of her
shoulders were broad enough for me to sit on, and her upper arms
measured at least 20", with biceps that bulged and peaked under
her smooth, satiny skin when she flexed. Like most bodybuilders,
her breasts were small for her size and firm, but her chest was
an impossibly wide "V" that tapered to a relatively narrow waist
that was rock ribbed with muscle, tightly rounded hips and long,
massively muscled legs that seemed bigger around than my chest.
Standing in front of her gaping up at her giant frame, I felt
more like a small c***d than a grown man.
She had asked that I meet her after the gym closed at nine,
and we were alone. She ushered me into her office at the rear of
the gym. It was sparsely furnished with a desk, an easy chair
behind it and a couple of straight backed chairs in front, and a
computer table, computer and printer on the side wall. All of
the furniture was designed more for her size than mine; I
literally had to hoist myself up on one of the chairs in front of
her desk, and, even then, with my feet several inches off the
floor, the desk was almost level with my chest, whereas it only
came to her waist when she seated herself behind it.
She asked me a few questions about my background and then
showed me her books. They were a mess, but I could see enough to
know that the gym seemed profitable and was able to outline a
system for straightening them out; she had never learned how to
use her computer, and I told her that, with the appropriate soft-
ware, I could have her finances up and running on system in a few
weeks, after which it would require less than an hour a day to
maintain it. After we settled on an hourly rate that was enough
for me to pay the rent on my small, furnished efficiency and put
food on the table, I got the job. As we were leaving I casually
mentioned that, since I didn't own a car, I had taken a bus to
her gym, and she immediately offered to give me a lift home,
which she did in her large station wagon.
I spent the next three weeks getting her finances on the
computer, working from nine in the morning until after closing to
do so. Mona could not have been more helpful and gracious an
employer, affectionately providing me everything I needed (in-
cluding a cushion to bring me up high enough to work comfortably
at her computer table), regularly buying me lunch, and periodi-
cally coming up behind my chair as I was working to cover my
shoulders with her huge, shapely hands and ask how I was doing.
Despite the difference in our size, I found myself becoming more
and more attracted to her. At her insistence, however, I was
required to stay pretty much in the back office, well away from
the gym and the women customers working out there, although
occasionally I couldn't resist the temptation to surreptitiously
sneak a peek. The sight of those muscular, powerful, almost
naked women was more than enough to get my genes working over-
time. Mona also had three females on her staff, all attractive,
competitive bodybuilders who dwarfed me and were similarly
dwarfed by Mona. They rarely came back to the office except when
Mona was away and they weren't working with the customers, and
then I never knew when one of them might slip up behind me and
playfully maul me about. But it was Mona who really turned me
on; the thought of my small body being cradled in her mighty arms
invariably produced a pulsating erection and flooded my body with
desire for this beautiful, Amazonian giantess.
Then, on Saturday at the end of the third week, when I was
taking one of my voyeuristic breaks, I suddenly felt a huge hand
slide under my buttocks and another grip my shoulder, lift me
bodily almost two feet into the air and carry me back to the
office. My penis sprang to life like a coiled spring as I
instinctively tried to struggle against the steel grip on my
buttocks and shoulder. Looking back, I saw Mona's lovely, larger
than life features, regarding me with mingled annoyance and
amusement.
"I thought I told you to stay out of sight," she scolded me,
setting me down in my chair. "As little and cute as you are, I
can't have one of my girls--or even worse, one of my customers--
carrying you off, at least not until you've finished getting my
books in order."
I have to admit I was a little flustered by being caught in
the act and so easily overpowered by her, not to mention the
clearly visible, pulsating bulge in my pants. I mumbled a
redfaced apology and then told her that the job was finished.
"I--I've got all your finances, business and personal, on
system," I stammered. "I could show you how to maintain it in
about an hour--that is, if you don't want me to do it for you.
And keeping it up to date shouldn't take more than a half hour or
so a day."
Her surprised look was genuine. "Really? Is the job really
done?"
"I'm afraid so," I sighed. "Much as I'd like to keep
working full time, I'd be stealing your money if I did. You've
been too nice to me for me to pull something like that." Then,
in a feeble attempt at humor, I added, "So, if one of the girls
in this gym wanted to carry me off, I wouldn't object if you
didn't."
Her surprised look became heavy lidded. "Oh? Have anyone
particular in mind?"
I felt my face get suddenly very hot, and I realized that I
had opened a door I was not sure I had the courage to walk
through. I lowered my eyes and muttered, "I--I'm not sure I
should answer that..."
She pursed her lips, smiling. "Well, my little bookkeeper,"
she murmured, "in any case, we're going to celebrate. I'm
closing up early and taking you out to dinner. And afterward we
will discuss our future relationship. Give me half an hour to
clear out the place, shower and change into street clothes."
She was as good as her word. I had barely finished closing
out the books and shutting down the computer and was putting on
my sport coat and straightening my tie when she opened the door
of the office, towering in the doorway and looking ravishingly
beautiful in a dark suit that hugged every curve of her magnifi
cently powerful body. Somehow she looked even bigger and even
more awesome than before, and I thought for a minute it was the
suit until I looked down and saw that she was wearing 5" spike
heels. I couldn't help but do a double take as I slowly rose to
my feet and found my eyes level with the inverted "V" of her rib
cage which was barely visible under her tight jacket. And I
began to feel those all too familiar curdlings in my lower body.
She took me to one of the best restaurants in the area, and,
walking to our table amid the stares that followed us, for the
first time I felt self conscious, like a small tug boat being
guided by the Queen Mary. But she was marvelous company during
dinner, charming and completely feminine, and as we left the
restaurant I found myself less aware of the difference in our
size. She drove me to my apartment house and, as she pulled up
in front, informed me that she would see me to my door. "After
all," she told me, "you are only a man, and a pretty puny one at
that, and this isn't the safest neighborhood in town."
Her words produced a strange sensation in my stomach, but I
did not object as she took me to my apartment and, as I fumbled
for my key, plucked it from my hand and opened my door. Then,
before I knew what was happening, she bent over me and, reaching
down behind my back to firmly cup both my buttocks in a single,
huge hand, straightened, lifting me with her until my eyes were
just below her own, stepped inside my apartment and backed the
door closed behind her. I gasped and instinctively tried to
struggle, but her other hand came up behind my back to grip the
back of my head and force my open mouth up to hers. Even as my
penis snapped erect against her hard, flat stomach and spasms of
desire coursed through my body, I pushed against her massive
shoulders with both my small hands, but I don't think she even
noticed my efforts, and I finally surrendered to her crushing
embrace, sliding my arms up around her neck and returning her
hungry kiss with an ardor that almost matched her own.
When at last she released my mouth, she said nothing, but
simply held me tightly against her, looking down at me with
piercing, dark eyes that seemed to burn into mine. As for me, I
could scarcely believe this was happening, that this towering,
magnificently beautiful Amazon could possibly want such a puny,
insignificant, male body as much as I wanted hers, and I could
only return her gaze with helpless, pleading passion as my small
hands lightly caressed her neck and cheeks.
She carried me easily over to the couch that also served as
my bed and sat down on it, setting me on the floor in front of
her, between her massive thighs. Her huge hands stripped me of
my coat, tie and shirt, and then undid my belt and fly and
lowered my trousers and shorts to my ankles, exposing my throb-
bing erection. I felt the long fingers of a single hand encircle
my naked waist in a firm, gentle grip that reached more than half
way around my slender body and then effortlessly lift me off the
floor so she could remove my shoes and socks and then slide my
trousers and shorts completely off, leaving me naked and defense-
less before her. Then she released me and stood up, looming high
above me and looking down at me like a giant, female colossus,
as, with almost feverish haste, she removed all her own clothes
except her high heeled pumps, dropping them to the floor on
either side of her.
It was the first time I had seen her completely nude, and in
those 5" heels the effect was overwhelming! Her massive,
powerful body seemed carved in dark ivory, every muscle standing
out in bold relief under her smooth, tan skin. But I had no
chance to admire the view. Before I could react, her huge hands
were on the back of my neck and my buttocks, and I was lifted
bodily off the floor to be held almost horizontally in front of
her while her open mouth explored my face and torso with
passionate kisses and love bites. Within seconds I was a
helpless, writhing, moaning mass of raging desire.
During this entire time neither of us had spoken a word.
Now as, her face flushed with her own desire, she laid me on my
back on the couch and settled over me, straddling my hips with
her massive thighs, I felt sudden concern. I'm pretty well
endowed for such a small man, but was I was big enough to satisfy
a woman of Mona's titanic proportions? She must have read the
concern on my face, for, as I opened my mouth, she quickly
covered it with a single hand, cutting off the question before it
could be asked.
"Shhh!" she whispered hoarsely. "You're big enough!"
Before I could respond, she had settled over me, covering my body
with hers, her 280 lbs. of solid muscle pressing me deep into the
cushions of my couch, my face buried between her firm breasts and
her arms around me, one behind my back and the other under my
hips pressing me up into her. And then I was inside her and she
was working me, the muscles of her channel enveloping, caressing
and massaging my manhood so tightly I thought I would explode
right then and there, before she was ready. I needn't have
worried, for she was more than ready! I heard her gasp and moan,
and then a second and third time as she tightened around me with
a force that would have expelled me from her had she not been on
top of me holding me in place, and then her moan became a whine
of rapture as her womanhood erupted. Rippling flesh and muscle
assaulted my penis, carrying me with her to a pinnacle of ecstasy
beyond anything I had ever felt before, only to subside, leaving
me limp and exhausted beneath her.
I wanted to be close to her, to cling to her, but as I
reached up to put my arms around my neck she gently disengaged
them and rose off me. I closed my eyes, disappointed and
frustrated. My orgasm had been strong, as strong as any I'd ever
felt, but I still felt cheated. It had happened so fast! It had
been over as quickly as it had begun, and I'd wanted more, to be
held and caressed by this magnificent Amazon and to worship every
inch of her glorious, incomparable body with my hands and my
lips. Instead, when I finally opened my eyes, I saw that she was
almost fully dressed.
"Not much for foreplay, are you?" I heard myself mumble,
surprised at my own audacity. "Or afterplay, for that matter."
Even as the words were uttered, I immediately regretted
them, thinking they might have offended her. But she smiled and
leaned down to pat my cheek. "Sorry, baby," she said softly,
"but I've been so hot for that little body of yours for so long--
almost since we first met--that I couldn't wait any longer to get
you inside me. And now it's late, and we have a lot to do
tomorrow."
I frowned. "Tomorrow? Tomorrow's Sunday. My work's done,
and you don't open the gym until noon. What is it that we have
to do?"
Now fully dressed, she sat down on the edge of the couch and
put a big hand on my chest. "I'm picking you up here at nine,"
she told me. "We're going down to the gym early, and you're
going to show me your new system. If it's everything you say it
is, we're going to have a lot to talk about--and a lot to do."
"It is. But I still don't understand..."
She smiled again. "You will tomorrow. Now get some sleep.
I think you're going to need it. Be waiting for me in front of
your building at nine."
And then she was gone.
I was waiting outside for her at nine wearing slacks and a
polo shirt, and she was as good as her word, looking ravishingly
beautiful and powerful in shorts and a brief halter that barely
covered her firm, full breasts. We went down to the gym, and I
spent the next hour walking her through how her computer and the
new bookkeeping system worked and the data that had been entered
and needed to be entered to keep her books up to date, as well as
how to enter it and back it up so it wouldn't be lost if her hard
disk crashed. I generated balance sheets and P&L's to show her
how well she'd been doing financially, and she was amazed. All
she'd really known about the business side of the gym was how
much cash was coming in and going out of her bank account. I
showed her how to use the system to manage and invest her cash to
maximize profits through the new interfaces I'd established via
modem with her bank. The final cruncher, though, was when I
generated amended federal and state income tax returns for each
of the two years she'd operated the gym, which revealed that
she'd paid over $20,000 too much in taxes.
"Wow!" she exclaimed. "Can I get that money back?"
I grinned. "Absolutely. The statute of limitations hasn't
expired yet on your returns. All you have to do is print out
these returns and the claim form and send them in. It'll take a
while, and you'll probably be audited, but, fortunately, you have
the records to support your refund."
She stood up and, before I realized what was happening,
plucked me out of my chair and gave me a hug that bent my ribs.
Then she slipped her hands under my armpits and, with no effort
at all, held me out at arm's length with my feet dangling a good
two feet off the floor. "That does it, baby!" she told me. "I'm
taking you back to your place, and you're going to pack up all
your things. As of today you're moving in with me. I'll set up
the spare bedroom in my condo as your office and move all my
records and the computer stuff in there. You'll continue to
handle all my finances and taxes from my condo and take care of
my house as well."
I gaped at her, stunned. "W-what?" I stammered. "Are you
saying you want me to come and LIVE with you?"
She grinned. "That's what I just said, baby. You're going
to be my live-in lover, housekeeper and financial manager. I'll
take care of you, support you and see that you have everything
you need, including," she added with a sly smile, "more foreplay
and afterplay than you can handle!"
"Now, wait a minute..." I protested. Although the idea of
spending every night with this beautiful, Amazonian giantess got
my genes up and running, I was no gigolo and said so. "Besides,"
I told her, "I'm no housekeeper, and I'm a lousy cook!"
"No problem," she laughed. "My place isn't hard to keep
clean, and I didn't get this body by eating fancy meals every
night. We'll be eating mostly health foods, and they're easy to
prepare. And, as far as being a gigolo is concerned, forget it.
Remember, you're not wooing me, I'm wooing you. Think of it as a
trial marriage. If it works out, I'll probably wind up marrying
you."
"And if it doesn't? I could wind up out on the street with
no job and no place to live!"
She laughed again. "Don't worry your pretty, little head
about that," she told me. "I know you're as hot for me as I am
for you, and I'm convinced it's going to work out just fine. But
if it doesn't, I'll set you up in your own place and support you
until you find a job. And I'll even put that in writing, if
it'll make you feel more secure."
It's not easy arguing with a woman Mona's beauty, size and
strength, particularly when she's holding you suspended in midair
two feet off the floor. I tried to point out that it made more
sense to do her finances here at the gym as the records were
generated, but she blew that argument out of the water with my
own assertion that keeping her records up to date would only
require about a half hour a day, and what was I going to do the
rest of the time? Offhand, I could think of half a dozen more
reasons why what she was proposing might not work, but she wasn't
having any of them. She'd made up her mind and that was that.
And, as she pressed me against her and began to nibble my face
and neck, it required only a few minutes for her to make up my
mind as well.
She called one of her staff to come in to manage the gym for
the day, got some boxes from a back room, took me back to my
apartment and informed me she'd be back by three to collect me
and my things. Actually, that was more than enough time, since
my apartment was furnished, and I only had my clothes, a TV and
VCR, some dishes and pots and pans and a few other odds and ends.
At three o'clock sharp she was back with her computer, printer
and two small filing cabinets in the back of her station wagon.
She had even disassembled the computer table and had it strapped
to the luggage rack on the roof of the car. Despite my misgiv
ings, I was ready for her--I really wasn't sure I had any
choice!--and she helped me load my things in her car and drove to
her condo.
It was a two story, three bedroom townhouse, spacious and
beautifully furnished with an integral garage, in an upscale part
of the city less than a five minute walk from a mammoth shopping
center. Like her office, the furniture seemed to have been
specially crafted to her scale, and I realized that I was going
to feel like a small c***d in this place. The basement next to
the garage had been set up as a small gymnasium with a number of
heavy free weights and aerobic devices. It took us less than an
hour to move everything in, my TV and VCR in her master bedroom,
my clothes in her huge, master bedroom closet and several empty
drawers of a long chest, and the computer equipment, filing
cabinets and the rest of my things in the third, small bedroom.
She gave me some tools, told me to set up the computer table and
equipment and then left "to pick up some things for tonight and
the day's records to put on system tomorrow".
She returned in a little over two hours with a bottle of
champagne, a folder with her day's records, and a box in a large
shopping bag. By that time I had everything put together and
working; there was even a telephone jack in the third bedroom for
her modem. She put the champagne in the refrigerator and
returned to walk me into the master bedroom, where she quickly
undressed me and then herself. "Don't get your hopes up just
yet, lover," she told me, grinning. "First we shower, then we
eat, and then I'm gonna bang your eyes out!"
The shower stall in her master bath was more than big enough
for both of us. Standing next to her, dwarfed by her curvaceous,
massively muscular frame, with my eyes barely level with her
breasts and the small of her back, was almost enough to make me
orgasm right on the spot. She told me to wash her first, and I
did, reaching up to soap her shoulders and then down her magnifi-
cent body with my small hands and marveling at the flawless
perfection of her skin and the huge, rippling muscles underneath.
She was like a goddess of overwhelming power and beauty and I a
puny mortal, wanting only to worship the glory of her womanhood
and become an insignificant part of the throne that was her body.
As I knelt before her to soap between and down shapely, oaken
thighs that seemed bigger than my chest, I couldn't resist the
sudden urge to lift my face and bury it in the wet, soapy bush
that covered the Gateway to Paradise, massaging it with my lips
in a feeble attempt to give her some of the pleasure that just
being near her was giving me. I heard her sigh, and big hands
covered my head and pressed my face up hard into her, and then
moved me away to tilt my head back and force me to look up that
massive, towering body at her lovely features smiling down from
what seemed a mile above me as shower water cascaded over both of
us.
"Later," she said softly. "Finish me first."
Dutifully I finished soaping her legs, letting my hands
linger with gentle caresses on her rock hard, softball size
calves, then rose reluctantly to find that, even stretching up on
tiptoe, I could barely reach her face, and shampooing that
lustrous mane of thick, shoulder-length, black hair would require
either a stool or a lift. I got the latter. She reached down
behind me to grip both my buttocks in a single, huge hand and
effortlessly lift me until my eyes were level with hers and then
pressed me against her, trapping my pulsating erection against
her hard, flat stomach. I couldn't help myself. I slid my arms
around her neck under her hair and kissed her open mouth as hard
as I could, probing the inside of her mouth with my tongue,
searching for and then intertwining with hers. She responded
with a passion that more than matched my own, her free hand
cupping the back of my head as she bent me backward and molded my
body to hers. Then, abruptly, she straightened and pulled my
head away from hers.
"If we run out of hot water, baby," she whispered, "you're
going to wind up taking a cold shower all alone!"
I got the message and, grinning ruefully, soaped her face,
ears and neck and, retrieving a tube of shampoo from a shower
caddy, worked a thick lather into her hair. Only then did she
set me down, and I moved back into a corner of the stall, watcher
her stretch luxuriously as the cascading water finished rinsing
her hair and body.
"Now, little one," she murmured, "it's your turn."
Before I realized what was happening she had reached behind
me with a single hand, firmly wrapped her long fingers more than
halfway around my slender waist, and had lifted me to hold me
effortlessly, almost horizontally, in front of her, away from the
shower. Although she had briefly held me this way the night
before, I could not help but gasp in amazement at this second
demonstration of her almost superhuman strength. Taking the soap
in her free hand, she soaped the front of my body and my legs,
but avoided my face and privates, and then, after shifting her
grip to my stomach so she could hold me face down, soaped my back
and buttocks. Then, continuing to hold me face down, she
returned the soap to the rack and began to gently massage the
slippery substance into my soft flesh with her huge, bare hand.
The thrill of her huge, powerful hand exploring my naked
back and buttocks was indescribable. Sensations of ecstasy and
desire coursed through my entire body, and I heard myself gasp
and moan. But that was nothing compared to what I felt as she
turned me face up and, continuing to hold my helpless, writhing
body in the palm of her single hand, began to knead the soapy
lather into my face and hair, then my chest and stomach, and,
finally, incredibly, between my legs to lightly explore my aching
testicles and massage my erect and throbbing penis. My eyes were
closed in the ecstasy of the moment, and the touch of her massive
hands and powerful fingers on my body suddenly became my
universe, driving all else from my consciousness.
"Oh, God, Mona!" I heard myself moan, "I'm going to
explode!"
"No!" she hissed. "Not yet!" and instantly I felt her hand
close tightly over my penis and her thumb press tightly down on
its tip. There was a moment's thrill, and then I was lifted and
turned, and water was cascading over my face and body, draining,
by some miracle, the desire from my body. I could not open my
eyes until she finally lowered me to my feet and turned off the
shower, and when I did I saw that she had opened the door of the
stall and was retrieving two huge towels from a rack on the wall.
One she d****d over my shoulders, its long folds reaching down to
my ankles, while she dried herself with the other. I watched her
with envy, wanting so much to dry her myself, to explore and feel
those massive muscles under the smooth, perfect flesh of her
giant body. But she finished quickly, and then turned to reach
down and place her towel around the one already covering me, wrap
them both tightly around my entire body, and then sweep me up in
her mighty arms and carry me into the bedroom.
I've often wondered if any man can remember what it was like
when he was an infant wrapped in blankets and cradled in his
mother's arms. I certainly did not, and yet, completely encased
in those huge towels and cuddled securely against her wide, naked
chest with my head tucked against her broad shoulder, looking up
in adoration at those beautiful, larger than life features
looming so close above my own, that's exactly how I felt. And I
knew then that I wanted nothing more than to be hers, to worship
and serve this magnificent giantess who seemed more than human, a
goddess of incomparable power and beauty, and to have my body
literally melt into hers and become one with her for eternity.
She carried me to a large chair in one corner of the bedroom
and sat down in it, placed me on her lap, and, with my head still
tucked against her shoulder, dried my face and hair with a corner
of the towel. Then, as I again writhed in the ecstasy of her
touch, with little pats and hugs through the towels encasing my
body, she dried the rest of me.
"Now," she whispered, nuzzling my face with her full, firm
lips, "I have something for you." She stood up and, incredibly,
shifted me so that my entire body was cradled in a single arm,
and then carried me across the room to her huge bed to retrieve
the large shopping bag she had brought back with her and dump the
box inside it onto the bed. Opening the box with her free hand,
she produced two frilly aprons and two shorty nightgowns, all
satin and a light, baby blue in color. As I gaped at them in
mingled amazement and dismay, she set me on my feet, removed the
towels from my body and told me, "These are what you will wear,
and all you will wear, when you're with me!"
"But, Mona!" I protested, "these are women's things! I
can't wear them! I may be small and puny compared to you, but
I'm still a man!"
Seating herself on the bed with her eyes almost down to my
level, she smiled condescendingly. "They're only women's clothes
if you think of them as such," she corrected me. "I had to guess
at your size, but they seem made for your soft, little body. I
want to feel your body through the touch of satin, and I know you
will love the feel of it on your delicate skin as much as I do."
She chuckled and added, "I would have made you wear my things,
but you'd drown in them! Even my shorty nightgowns would reach
way below your knees! In these, your body will be instantly
available to me any time I want it, which, my little doll man,
will be often, I assure you! Now, stop trying to argue with me
and lift your arms so I can try this nightie on you!"
With a sigh borne of the futility of attempting to deny this
overpowering Amazon anything she wished, I did as I was told, and
she slipped the garment over my arms and head and down my body,
smoothing the narrow straps over my shoulders. Instantly, my
skin seemed to tingle at the touch of the smooth, silky material
which barely reached below my privates. It was, of course,
somewhat loose in the chest, but seemed snug around my waist, and
Mona frowned. "Got the smallest bust size I could find for your
size, little one, and you're a bit flabby around the waistline,"
she murmured, "but we'll soon fix that. Otherwise, it's perfect,
fits you like a glove." And she ran her huge hands up and down
my satin covered body, sending shivers of ecstasy through me and
rekindling my desire. "Baby," she whispered, her voice suddenly
husky, "you're adorable in that nightie! I think the food will
have to wait a while..." Suddenly I was in her arms, one around
my neck and the other encircling my waist, crushing me against
her massive body between her open thighs as her open mouth
captured mine, bending me backward with a force that would have
torn my head from my shoulders but for her supporting arm around
my neck. Then her hands were around my waist, lifting me, turn-
ing me and laying me on my back on her bed and she was on top of
me, covering my face and neck with kisses as her hands probed,
stroked and fondled my helpless body at will.
Like the night before, she was the complete aggressor, but
this time seemed in no rush to take me. Instead, she manipulated
my body with practiced skill, bringing me to the brink of orgasm
and holding me there, yet never letting me over the edge. For a
brief, terrifying moment I thought she was using me, toying with
me, with no intention to take me, but the flush of her face as
she covered my body with kisses and love bites and the heat of
her magnificent body told me that she was only building her own
desire and needed no help from me to do so. Indeed, the very
passivity of my soft, slender, satin covered body seemed more
than enough to inflame her.
It was only when she moved forward to bury my face between
her naked breasts and I heard her rasp, "Suck me! Hard!" that I
was permitted to respond to her advances, and I had to twist my
head to take one hard nipple in my mouth while I massaged the
other with my hand. I felt her hands grip my hips and hold me in
place as she maneuvered herself over my throbbing shaft, protrud-
ing now from beneath my nightie, to tease its tip with her clit
until my entire body was aching for release and then to envelope
me completely in the soft, firm folds of her womanhood.
In that moment we became one; I was part of her, submerged
in her, an insignificant extension of her overpowering femininity
and completely under her control. As the ecstasy of my desire
filled my consciousness, in the deep recesses of my mind I knew
that I was hers forever, that without her I could never be whole
again, for she was unique, one of a kind, and no lesser woman
could ever be enough for me. When at last I felt the muscles of
her channel tighten and then erupt around me and heard her hiss,
"Now!", it seemed that my body obeyed her automatically, flooding
me with an ecstasy that eclipsed even my memory of the night
before, carrying me to unbelievable heights of passion and
holding me there until, at last, her body relaxed and she slowly,
almost reluctantly, rose off my prostrate form.
I don't know how long afterward we lay together, she on her
back with her arm around my shoulders cuddling me tightly against
her, and I on my side, my head resting on her broad shoulder,
straining to get closer to her, wanting every inch of our bodies
to be touching. Finally she raised her head to look down at me
and, with a teasing smile, kissed me lightly. "Was that enough
foreplay for you?" she murmured.
I looked up at her in adoration and spoke the only thought
that filled my mind. "I love you," I whispered.
She smiled again and gently touched a forefinger to the tip
of my nose. "You'd better," she told me, "because you belong to
me, now. You're mine, all mine. Forever."
I closed my eyes. "I think," I replied softly, "I was yours
from the first day we met."
That was the beginning of my new life. Gone were any
aspirations of success in the business world. Instead, I was
content--no, overjoyed!--to worship and serve this magnificent,
Amazonian goddess who had captured my heart. And she could not
have been a more loving Mistress. She taught me how to cook for
us and clean her townhouse, and established a routine of aerobic
exercises to strengthen and firm my body, which I rigidly
observed in her basement gym. Within weeks, to Mona's delight, I
had lost over an inch from my waistline and had gained five
pounds of firm, flexible muscle, and the nightie that was my
nightly attire fit my slender body like a glove. I joked that if
I kept this up I might become as strong as she, and we both
laughed at the absurdity of that notion. During the day I wore
the aprons she had purchased, together with matching slippers, as
my only dress, changing only when I had to leave the townhouse to
shop. At her insistence, I reluctantly let my hair grow shoulder
length, knowing that somehow that made me more desirable to her.
And, of course, I continued to handle all of her finances,
spending an hour each day entering the data from her gym's
records from the day before and tracking her personal and
household expenses. The gym was continuing to do extremely well,
and Mona had more money than we could spend.
Then, after we had been together for about six months, she
made a startling announcement: she had decided to marry me! I
was overcome with joy! The arrangements had already been made,
and we were married the following Saturday in her gym before a
female Justice of the Peace who was one of her customers. It
was, to say the least, an unusual ceremony! Only the gym's staff
and customers were there, and they formed an aisle leading from
the back of the gym to a small table where Mona, towering a
glorious 7' in a white leather outfit and matching, high heeled
boots, and the Justice were waiting. Wearing my nightie, which,
necessarily, had been augmented by matching panties, I was
escorted down the aisle by Mona's assistant gym manager, a 5'10"
female bodybuilder who dwarfed me in her high heels, and then
lifted and handed bodily to Mona, who held me like a c***d in the
curve of one arm, wrapped around my thighs, for the remainder of
the ceremony. I promised to love, honor and obey her, and she to
love, care for, protect, guide me in all things and discipline me
only when deserved. During the reception which followed, I was
subjected to the bruising ritual of "Kiss the Groom", and, when
it came time for Mona to throw the garter, since she had none,
she threw me instead, back over her shoulder to the waiting
bachelorettes! The girls were standing on a wide, thick mat so I
wouldn't be hurt in case I was dropped, but, fortunately, I was
caught by short, chunky blonde musclegirl who had about as much
chance of becoming the next bride as I did of becoming a mother
(no cracks, please)!
The following Monday Mona and I signed and filed the
necessary papers to change our last name back to hers, and life
went on until, several months later, Mona informed me that she
was pregnant. I was, of course, delighted at the prospect of
becoming a father, but, knowing that I would be responsible for
the baby's care, worried about the effect of pregnancy on Mona's
muscleladen frame and whether I could be an adequate substitute
for a normal mother; certainly breast feeding was out! I needn't
have on either count. Mona continued, but lightened somewhat,
her workouts, and by the end of her fifth month the only evidence
of her pregnancy was a slight thickening of her waistline. By
this time she had also determined the baby's sex, and told me
that it was a girl who, she decreed, "was going to be a new breed
of superwoman, taller and stronger than any man in the world".
To this end, and against the advice of her obstetrician, she
began taking a variety of special supplements designed stimulate
the baby's growth and muscular development. It must have worked,
for "little" Amanda was born four months later, all 14-1/2 lbs.
of her!
And that is when my life began to change--and not for the
better!


LITTLE BABY DADDY

Part 2 - Amanda From Birth to 8

The year and a half that Mona and I had been together before
Amanda's birth had been sheer bliss for me. She worked long
hours at the gym and was invariably there at seven in the morning
when it opened. But, since her condo was only a short drive
away, she often took a couple of hours to come home for the lunch
I prepared for her and spend some time playing with me, sometimes
lifting me and, after she'd discovered how ticklish I was, tickl-
ing my naked ribs, and at other times cuddling me on her lap or
carrying me into the bedroom to toss me on the bed for a
"quickie". Although the gym did not close until ten in the
evening, closing was rotated between her and her three staff
members, and three week nights out of four she was home by seven
for a late dinner, which I always had ready for her.
After dinner, while I was doing the dishes, I never knew
when she was going to come up behind me and playfully violate me
in some way, either squeezing my bare buttocks, which were always
exposed behind the apron covering my chest, stomach and privates,
or sliding single hand between my thighs to cup my crotch and
lift me effortlessly to hold my entire weight balanced in her
palm, laughing that she wanted to make sure she had me "well in
hand". Once my body had been slenderized and firmed by the
exercises she had prescribed, she would turn me to face her, grip
both my arms just below the elbows and pin them to my sides, and
then, with her thumb and long fingers pressing into the slender,
supple muscles of my stomach and back, lift me to hold me high in
the air in front of her and tilt me forward and down so she could
tantalize my face, chest and stomach with little nibblings and
kisses while I writhed with helpless desire in her iron, but
gentle, grasp.
We did not go out often at first, until she had a couple she
knew, who served as her seamstress and tailor, fit me with a
complete new wardrobe of ruffles and soft, clinging material
that, coupled with my long hair, gave me an almost feminine look.
We were undoubtedly an unusual couple, a tiny, slender man in
ruffles guided by a powerful giantess towering 7' in high heels
and suits of suede or leather, and stares and whispers accompa
nied us wherever we went. Occasionally a burly male would
approach us with a sneering or obscene suggestion or comment, but
invariably would slink away whimpering with a crushed hand or
wrist. On one occasion, at a bar, she actually grasped a 6 foot,
200 lb. man by his throat with a single hand, lifted him and held
him at arm's length until he almost passed out for lack of air
before dropping him in a crumpled, gasping heap on the floor at
her feet.
Initially I expressed concern that she was trying to
"feminize" me, but she laughed and told me not to be so concerned
about stereotypes. "Do you think I'm masculine because I'm so
muscular and so much bigger and stronger than you?" she asked me.
"To me, men are the weaker sex! One of the many reasons I fell
in love with you is that you're so small, soft and pliable, and
so passively responsive when I make love to you. The fact is
that I'm a big, strong, aggressive woman and you're a small,
weak, passive man, and I want the way we dress to reflect that.
But that doesn't make you any less a man--in fact, you're more
than enough man to satisfy me, which is more than I can say about
most of the so-called 'macho' types I've run into!"
That attitude was certainly reflected in our lovemaking for,
at least in the beginning, she was always the aggressor, forcing
me into the role of passive receptacle for her passionate
caresses and kisses which never let me fail her. Although I
loved the feel of her huge hands and searching lips on my small
body, I also longed to worship with kisses and caresses of my own
that magnificent temple that was her body, to explore with my
lips and hands every pore of her perfect skin and every bulge,
curve and crevice of the massive muscles that flared and surged
underneath. Repeated entreaties at first produced only a
condescending smile and the assurance that such ministrations
were unnecessary, that merely seeing my naked, supple, little
body was more than enough to "make me want to **** you!", but one
evening I finally convinced her to let me try. She disappeared
into the bedroom and emerged completely naked except for 5" spike
heels and stood before me grinning down at me with her legs
spread and her hands on her hips and every rock hard muscle of
her massive body flexed and bulging!
It was an obvious dare, but the mere sight of this towering
spectacle of beauty and power was enough to make me almost
delirious with desire. I barely remember retrieving the needed
footstool to cover her shoulders, chest and breasts with caresses
and kisses, or of her turning so I could worship the powerful,
unbelievably muscular "V" of her back. I was conscious only of
her, the closeness and hugeness of her as I slowly nibbled,
kissed and caressed every square inch of that massive triangle of
rippling muscularity and then down to cover rounded hips that
seemed carved in dark ivory. Suddenly I was on my knees before
her, my arms wrapped around her legs, stroking and caressing her
bulging calves and then those huge, oaken thighs, barely able to
reach around and titillate the solid, inner walls that guarded
her heavenly bush. I heard her gasp and moan, and the powerful,
musk odor of her own desire almost overwhelmed me. Throwing
caution to the winds, I plunged my face into that glorious
receptacle, wanting only to give her the ecstasy that her mere
presence had given me. But she gave a little cry, and then I was
plucked from my knees like a toy and almost thrown on my back on
the carpet. She was upon me and made love to me like a giant
tigress, literally ravaging me and bringing us both to new
pinnacles of rapture that left us limp and exhausted, yet wanting
more. After that there was much more variation in our lovemak
ing, and she would often interrupt my household chores with the
command, "Come and worship me!"
With her pregnancy, however, and her revelation that she
intended to have the tallest, strongest daughter in the world,
the joy of impending fatherhood was tempered with concern, not
only over whether I could properly care for her as a baby, but
also how I would be able to handle as a parent a c***d who might
well exceed me in size and strength before she reached the age of
reason. When I expressed these concerns to Mona, she merely
smiled, cuddled me on her lap and told me not to "worry your
pretty, little head over such things."
As it turned out, however, my concerns were not unwarranted.
From the beginning it was apparent that Amanda was physically and
intellectually precocious, and Mona, who resumed her full work-
outs and had returned to the gym within a week after we had
brought her home, established firm, clearly defined guidelines
for Amanda's care to ensure that the baby reached her maximum
potential. Special vitamins and supplements were added to her
formula to stimulate both growth and physical development, and I
was required to exercise her arms and legs within carefully
defined limits to increase her strength.
The results were amazing. From her birth Amanda, in addi-
tion to being an extraordinarily beautiful baby, was way off the
charts in size. Within a few months we had to buy adult diapers
for her, and no baby clothes available in stores would fit her.
As a result, Mona's seamstress and tailor friends were kept busy
making baby pajamas, dresses and coats for her. Her development
was equally incredible. She was standing at four months and
walking at six. By the time she reached her first birthday Mona
had coaxed her into lifting very light weights and working out on
specially designed exercise machines, to which, to my surprise,
the toddler took like a fish to water. Although I worried that
lifting even those light weights at her tender age might damage
her soft, developing bone structure, the vitamins and supplements
Mona had prescribed had apparently worked, for regular checkups
with the pediatrician revealed no evidence of injury or deforma
tion. Indeed, the doctor was constantly amazed at the c***d's
developing size and strength.
Shortly after Amanda's birth Mona also decided that the
c***d needed more outside room to play than her condo provided.
The condo was sold and she moved us into a lovely, secluded,
three bedroom home located on a huge, wooded lot in an undevel
oped area. The house was located on both commuter and school bus
lines, but was sufficiently far from shopping that Mona was
forced to purchase a second car for me. There was a large
swimming pool in the back yard, and Mona immediately hired a
coach to teach little Amanda to swim. Naturally buoyant from the
layer of baby fat that covered her developing musculature, within
two months she was swimming like a fish and had another exercise
to add to her increasingly heavy weight training and aerobic
schedules.
The furniture from the condo was enough to fill all the
rooms of the house except the living and family rooms, and that's
when I learned how Mona had managed to procure the larger than
life size furniture that made me feel so small, almost c***d-
like; they had all been specially made for her by a small, local
furniture company the president of which was the husband of one
of Mona's customers. The additional pieces she had made for the
house, including an extra large crib for Amanda's nursery, were
expensive, but perfect for a woman of Mona's size, if not for me.
By Amanda's second birthday it had become obvious that she
was going to be a strong willed c***d. Already over three feet
tall and 80 solid pounds, she was becoming difficult to handle.
Mona didn't make things any easier for me by making no secret to
the c***d of my physical inferiority; although she obviously had
to permit me to wear shorts under my apron, it was not uncommon
for Amanda to enter a room to see Mona cuddling me on her lap or
holding me high in the air with my head brushing the ceiling.
"Mommy, when can I do that with Daddy?" she would invariably ask,
and Mona would reply, "When you're older and stronger, dear."
That day came sooner than either of us expected, and my
worst fears were realized. Amanda had passed her fifth birthday
and had started kindergarten, and, compared to the other
c***dren, was a veritable giantess, standing just over four and a
half feet tall. Her chunky, c***d's body still had a deceptive
layer of baby fat concealing strata of solid muscle, and she
outweighed me by a good fifteen pounds. On her third day at
school I received a frantic call from her teacher, a tiny young
woman not much taller and at least thirty pounds lighter than
Amanda. Apparently three little boys in her class had been
teasing Amanda about her size, and Amanda had reacted by simply
taking all three of them down on the floor and sitting on them.
When the teacher ordered her to let them up she refused. Unable
to budge her physically, the teacher was forced to call the
school principal, a heavy set ex-football player who, with some
difficulty, was finally able to pull Amanda off the boys and take
her to the office. I immediately changed into a shirt and
slacks, drove to the school, brought her home and escorted her to
her room, where I instructed her to stay until her mother arrived
home. "Then," I told her grimly, "we're going to decide what to
do about this."
She looked at me defiantly. "I'm gonna do my workout and
then I'm gonna go swimmin'!" she announced, and started to change
her clothes.
"Young lady," I grated, "you are not leaving this room!" and
grabbed her by the wrist. That was my mistake. Instinctively
she whipped her arm around, her face red with anger, and the next
thing I knew I was flying across the room to hit the wall with a
sickening thud. I must have blacked out for a second; all I
remember is seeing stars, and when I opened my eyes Amanda was
leaning over me, the anger in her c***d's face replaced by
mingled fright and concern.
"Are you all right, Daddy?" she asked plaintively. "You're
not hurt, are you? Tell me you're not hurt!"
I didn't answer her, but struggled to my feet and, still
dizzy, leaned back against the wall trying to figure out what had
happened. The next thing I knew my left wrist was held in an
iron grip and I was lifted, d****d over Amanda's shoulders and
carried across the room to be dumped on my back on her oversized
bed. My head was still spinning, but now from the realization
that I had been completely overpowered by my five year old
daughter!
I started to rise and got halfway up before her pudgy hands
on both my shoulders pushed me back down on the bed. "Please
don't get up, yet, Daddy," she begged me. "You look so funny,
like you're sick or something!"
"I'm fine, Amanda," I assured her shakily. "Now please let
me up!"
She stepped back and I slid off the bed. My head had
cleared, but my mind was still struggling to cope with this new
development. I didn't speak, but simply left the room, closing
the door behind me. As I did so, I glimpsed Amanda out of the
corner of my eye, looking at my retreating figure. The concern
was gone from her c***d's face and had been replaced by an odd
expression of mingled confusion and a dawning awareness that gave
me a feeling of acute discomfort.
I went back to the computer and was entering the gym's data
from the previous day when I heard her go down to the basement to
begin her workout. During the last year, as I had seen her lift
heavier and heavier weights, I had deliberately avoided watching
these workouts, fearing a challenge to compare muscle that I knew
eventually I would lose, so I finished at the computer and was
dusting and vacuuming the living, dining and family rooms when I
heard her splashing about in the pool. I was in the kitchen
putting away the dishes from the dishwasher when, still wearing
her bathing suit, she came up behind me and, without warning, put
her thick, pudgy arms around my apron covered waist and, with a
barely audible grunt of effort, lifted me several inches off the
floor.
"Guess what, Daddy?" she gushed in her little girl's voice.
"I'm stronger than you!"
I immediately grabbed both her wrists and tried to pry her
arms apart, but she had her fingers locked together, and I
couldn't budge them. "Amanda!" I yelped. "Put me down this
instant!"
"Why, Daddy? You like it when Mommy does this to you! I
can tell!"
I couldn't see her face, which was pressed against my
shoulder blades, but her voice sounded genuinely puzzled. I
thought fast. "You're not your mother!" I told her sternly.
"And you're only five years old! You know how often your mother
has told you not to lift too much weight at your age! I can tell
I'm too heavy for you! You could hurt yourself lifting me!"
That apparently made sense to her, for she reluctantly
lowered me to my feet. Her arms, however, were still around my
waist, and before I could react she had wrestled me to my back on
the floor, straddled my stomach and had gripped my wrists with
her pudgy hands, pinning both my hands against the floor next to
my head. I was momentarily stunned, then strained with all my
might to force my hands up off the floor, but the combination of
her strength, weight and her leverage advantage was too much, and
I was only able to raise them an inch or two before being forced
back down again.
"Gotcha!" she proclaimed with obvious pride.
"Dammit, Amanda!" I yelled. "Let me up!"
"Mommy says it's not nice to swear, Daddy," she giggled.
"Say 'pretty please'! Say 'pretty please with sugar on it'!"
"When I tell your mother about this..."
She bit her lip. "I can't wait to tell Mommy!" she gushed.
"She'll be so proud of how strong I am!"
I had to think fast again. After all, a thirty year old man
should be able to outthink a five year old c***d! "You're right,
Amanda," I said. "Let's call her right now!"
Her face was suddenly aglow. "Can we, Daddy? Can we call
her right now?"
"Absolutely. Let me up and I'll do it. Right now!"
She got off me, pulled me to my feet, and I couldn't get to
the phone fast enough. Mona answered, and I told her, "We have a
problem! I need you home as fast as you can get here!"
"What's the matter?"
Amanda was practically tearing the phone out of my hands, so
I said, "Here, I'll let your daughter tell you!" and gave up the
receiver.
"Mommy! Guess what!?!" She was bubbling over with
enthusiasm. "I'm stronger than Daddy! I actually picked him up
off the floor and then took him down and sat on him!" There was
a moment's silence. Her face first registered surprise, then
disappointment, and then, after several more moments, she
sheepishly handed the phone back to me. "Mommy wants to talk to
you," she said.
"What's she doing home?" Mona asked me. "Why isn't she in
school?"
"That's part of the problem. I'll tell you when you get
here."
She told me she'd leave immediately, and I hung up. I
turned to face Amanda, who was almost in tears.
"Mommy said I should wait for her in my room," she mumbled.
"Then that's what you'd better do," I said.
To my relief, she did, but, as I watched her slowly scuffle
up the stairs looking absolutely crushed, I felt sorry for her.
She was, after all, only five years old. I wanted to go to her
and put my arms around her and tell her that it wasn't so bad
after all, but I also knew that would be a mistake, perhaps for
me as well as for her. So I said nothing and went back to my
housework.
Mona arrived about a half hour later, still in her workout
tights, and I related the day's events to her. She told me to
wait in the living room and went upstairs to Amanda's room and
closed the door. I heard them talking, but couldn't understand
what was being said. Then I heard Amanda's door open, and Mona
came down the stairs carrying Amanda in one arm wrapped around
the c***d's thighs. Amanda had her arms around Mona's neck and
her face buried in her shoulder and, cuddled against Mona's giant
frame, looked for all the world like just another, small, five
year old c***d. Mona came over to me, picked me up in her other
arm and carried us both over to one of the easy chairs, where she
set Amanda on her feet and sat down with me on her lap.
"Now, Amanda," Mona said sternly, "tell Daddy how sorry you
are, for what you did to those boys in school and for what you
did to Daddy here."
Looking at the floor and scuffing the rug with one foot,
Amanda mumbled, "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"And tomorrow," Mona continued, "Daddy will take you back to
school to the principal's office, and what will you do then?"
"Tell him I'm sorry, too."
"And what else?"
"That I won't do anything like that ever again."
"So," Mona went on, "what will you do if those boys or any
of the other c***dren at school tease you again?"
Amanda bit her lip. "I won't pay any attention, and I'll
walk away," she replied.
"That's right," Mona said approvingly. "And what about when
you're home alone with Daddy?"
Amanda looked quickly at me and then at the floor again.
"I'll mind Daddy and do what he says," she replied.
"And why will you do that?"
"'Cause I'm only five years old and Daddy's all grown up."
Mona nodded. "That's right," she said again. "Now, listen
to me very carefully, Amanda. You're a very big, strong girl for
your age, and you're growing bigger and stronger every day. It
won't be long before you'll be a LOT bigger and stronger than
Daddy, and in another year or two you'll be bigger and stronger
than most grown men. So you'll have to remember that Daddy is
only a man. Like all men, he's weak and helpless--weaker and
more helpless even than most men--and that it's up to us as women
to love him, protect him and take care of him, and, yes, to guide
and control him to make sure he does what he's supposed to,
because as women we know what's best for him. Right now that's
Mommy's job, because you're too young. But in another few years,
when you're a little older and more mature..."
I started to choke and tried to intervene, "Huh? Now, wait
a minute, Mona..." but her hand, which was around my shoulders,
quickly clamped over my mouth to shut off my protest.
"...you'll be so much bigger and stronger than Daddy," she
continued, ignoring my struggles, "that you'll be able to take
care of him and protect him when I'm not around and make sure he
does the things I want him to do, just like I do when I'm at
home. Do you understand that, dear?"
Amanda's face brightened. "You mean I can pick Daddy up and
play with him the way you do, Mommy?" she asked eagerly.
Mona smiled. "Well, not exactly the way I do, dear," she
murmured, "but, in general, yes."
"When, Mommy? When can I play with Daddy?"
Mona's smile widened. "Perhaps," she replied, "when you can
understand the difference between what you can do with Daddy and
the things I can do with him that you can't. I'll tell you when.
Now, show Daddy how much you love him, and then, as I told you
before, you're going to have to spend the night in your room as a
punishment for what you did today."
Mona removed her hand from my mouth, but, as I tried to
renew my protest, Amanda threw her arms around my neck and chest
and gave me a hug that expelled all the air from my lungs, and
then, with a quick, wet kiss on my cheek, ran upstairs. I
twisted around on Mona's lap to look up at her beautiful features
smiling down at me.
"Jesus, Mona!" I yelped. "Are you nuts? In 2-3 years
she'll only be seven or eight years old!"
She gave me a condescending pat on my head. "And in less
than a year," she told me, "perhaps only a few months, she'll be
taller than you and so much stronger than you that she'll be able
to handle you almost as easily as I can. You may as well face
it, darling: you're a small, defenseless man in a household of
Amazonian women who, fortunately for you, love you and want to
protect you and take care of you, but to whom you will always be
subservient. Unfortunately for you, Amanda has developed some-
what faster than I thought she would, and it won't be long before
you wind up as physically subservient to her as you have been to
me. I'm going to have to spend some time with her to make sure
that, when that happens, she doesn't accidentally hurt you or do
anything else to you that she shouldn't. I wouldn't worry too
much, though; I think she's very mature for her age, and she does
listen to what I tell her."
I was getting a queasy feeling in my stomach. "What do you
mean, do anything else to me that she shouldn't?"
Mona chuckled. "Well," she replied, "if Amanda is as
precocious sexually as she is in every other way, she may hit
puberty early, too, and get some ideas she shouldn't. So, we'll
have to make sure she doesn't wind up m*****ing her helpless,
little Daddy!"
"Mona!" I gasped, horrified. "That's awful! You can't
possibly believe..."
She laughed, hugged me close to her and stood up, holding me
cuddled securely in her massive arms. "Anything's possible,
baby," she murmured. "That's why you're so lucky to have such a
big, strong wife to protect you from our Amazonian daughter! On
that note, since I had to come home early to save you from her,
and since Amanda is confined to her room for the evening, I'm
going to take advantage of the opportunity and let you show me
how grateful you are!"
"I'm not in the mood!" I muttered.
She nibbled my ear. "I'll fix that," she said. And she
did.
She was also right about Amanda, who continued to develop at
an astounding pace. Within eight months after that fateful day
she could look me straight in the eye, and by her sixth birthday
she was two inches taller than I, weighed over 160 lbs. of solid
muscle and was so much bigger than I in every dimension that,
standing next to her, I almost felt like the c***d. Neverthe
less, perhaps because Mona spent a lot of time tal