Obeying Mother (JIMP#43)

Jim is surprised by the dominance of his elderly bodybuilding mother

SPOILER: Investigating an old people’s home, Jim comes across an elderly female resident working out in the gym. When she turns around, he is shocked to find that it is his mother. Getting him to feel her newly built body, Jim tries to resist his natural yearnings. When she dominates him physically, he finds his resistance wavering. Lord Gerald and the men raid the temple of Anahita suffering huge losses in their escape.

Inspired by the idea of older women who take up bodybuilding – just check out the pics on the web of white-haired old ladies flexing fabulously fit muscular bodies – the fabulous late Kelly Nelson shown above is just one example. I worked on the basis if that were my mother would I be able to control my feelings? Maybe, but what if she began to dominate me? Some people are naturally not keen on this type of story but I do like exploring such taboo areas in my writing. There is another unresolved thread here that needs tying off.

The following story contains descriptions of sex and violence. If this offends you or if you are under the legal age of consent in your country do not read on. Although based on real people, names have been changed to protect the innocent. Any other likeness to anyone dead or alive or fictional is purely coincidental.
(c) JIM P 2012
****************
Digging through old county records revealed only that the Covenant of the Holy Messiah were a very old order of nuns dating back to at least Norman times. The only item of note was that they survived Henry VIII’s reformation wholly intact, the King strangely deciding not to touch them as he ransacked the Church elsewhere. They were very reclusive but I confirmed that they owned the retirement home at Cathanger so I decided to begin my investigations there. However apart from some very feisty randy old women coming on to me as though they hadn’t had it in years (which they probably hadn’t), I couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. In fact, the residents seemed well cared for and had excellent facilities including an indoor swimming pool that looked very inviting and a small but well equipped gym.

“Work till you’re muscle bound all day long” Spandau Ballet was blaring out of the speakers as I entered the gym tucked away in the basement. As I gazed at the strange contraptions all gleaming chrome and heavy weights, I imagined the horny old dears secretly building rock hard muscular bodies under their frumpy clothes, coming here to pump themselves up and getting even hornier. In fact the very thought was making me horny until a metallic clink made me aware that I was not alone and drew my attention to a woman standing at a machine with her back to me.

I gawped in astonishment. It was like my fantasy had come true. The woman is clearly of advanced years judging by her short curly greying hair although I never expected such a skimpy blue thong bikini. What really takes my breath away is a heaving mass of rippling muscle in her back as she pulls down on a metal bar attached to a pulley system that lifts some weights. Amazingly well defined, it writhes in a sensual motion of muscular contours and striations that roots me to the spot. Each individual muscle group in her back stands in bold relief like a medical diagram. Down the centre of her back is a clear deep channel with a thick mass of striated muscle where her shoulder blades meet. All of this is in constant motion as she works out, individual muscles growing and contracting as she pulls the metal bar down then lets the weights return it in a controlled manner. The fit old lady isn’t massive neither is she frail looking but stands around 5’5″ with a fairly slim body, however she packed a lot of well-defined muscle into it. I drank in the shape of her hourglass figure, broad hard ridged shoulders with rippling bulging lats sloping inwards to a slim waist before curving sensuously out to her hips. Her tight compact buttocks were shockingly shown off to full advantage by the thong briefs and looked much sexier than any old woman had a right to. She certainly had a great backside that stirred my loins. Below this, there was a hint of old wrinkled skin but overall her legs looked slender and long with a hint of firm hamstrings and long hard calves.

As she raised her arms to pull down the bar again, her shoulder caps split into a well-defined mass of muscle atop lean arms with thick cords running along the length of her biceps and toned vascular forearms. Pulling the bar, I marvel with growing appreciation at the thickly corded swell of her shoulder caps and the dense mass of muscle at the back of her arms. A firm hard ridge forms along the top of her biceps then bunched and swelled into small hard peaks. Her glutes flexed into very sexy tight hard balls that made my groin twitch. I knew I should leave or make my presence known but I was mesmerised by the sight of this elderly woman working out and becoming turned on by the sight of muscles in motion.

Up and down went the bar over and over again. The play of the thick muscles in her back holds my rapt attention. As she pulled the bar down once more, the thick slabs of vertical muscle where her shoulder blades met were like continental shelves colliding with a deep fault line between them then moving apart as the bar rose again. I really should go and was about to tear myself away when she bent a leg slightly causing the hamstrings to swell. Her foot bent forward onto her bare toes and her slim toned calves flexed solidly into diamond shapes with a deep cleft forming a thick cliff above the slimness beneath. It was no use, I just to stay and watch this granny bodybuilder quietly like a peeping tom, wondering whether she looked as good from the front as she did from the back.

The elderly woman moved her feet wide apart as she continued her repetitions, adopting a semi-crouch that caused a thick triangular wedge of muscle to extend either side from her glutes. She crouched lower, the lively toned muscles in her back writhing and rippling, her backside looking seriously powerful. The woman looked seriously ripped despite her age and size. With all this pumping female muscle on display, my manhood was becoming seriously stiff.

Suddenly the old woman let go of the bar and pulled her arms down into a double biceps pose. The top of her back was a cushion of thick bulging muscle; the vertical slabs where her shoulder blades met resembled a big pair of sideways lips. I could now see the thick solidity of her biceps. She started to turn and I began to panic. There wasn’t enough time to get to the door without being seen. How was I going to explain to this old muscle woman why I was standing there watching her? Would she believe me if I told her that I had only just come in? I couldn’t take my eyes off her amazingly conditioned body as she stretched her arms out. The shoulder caps and triceps were like big rocks strung along a rocky shore, her forearms were vascular and striated by thick cords of tendons.

Seeing her for the first time in profile, I was stunned by how large her chest was. Two full mounds of female flesh hang low on her chest, barely contained by a small blue bra. Yet even the top of that impressive chest is pillowed by thick striated muscle. I can also see how flat and firm her stomach is. Her arm lowers into a triceps pose and I am so engrossed with how large they look that I am slow to realise that the woman had her head turned to look straight at me. Panicking at being caught out looking, I desperately sought to think of an excuse. Any excuse would do, but nothing came to mind and I found myself gawping at the large pillows of breast cupped by her small bra. The woman’s voice broke the spell. “Hello James. It’s about time you came and visited your mother”.

I looked at her face in amazement, recognition dawning. It was her; it was my own mother who I hadn’t seen for many long years after she disappeared with another man just before my father died. The curly hair was still worn short, showing the ears and forehead but thicker on the top in the 50’s style she favoured, although the dark brown had largely turned to grey. Though now greatly aged and wrinkled, she was still quite elegant looking with a small slightly long face, with piercing brown eyes outlined with eyeliner and pale blue mascara. Her nose was sleek and slender leading to a medium sized mouth with thin lips glossed in a bright red lipstick. “Well haven’t you got anything to say to your dear old mother?” she said with a slight smile that emphasized her high cheekbones and the wrinkles around her mouth. Although her jaw was firm, her chin also showed her age.

“I didn’t know that you were here. You never told anyone where you had gone to” I struggled with the first words to speak with the woman who I had lost contact with for an awful long time without expressing the bitterness and sense of betrayal that the rest of the family felt. She turned to face me fully now and I struggled not to look at her large chest as it bobbed in front of me. I had never seen my mother show much of her body before, she always dressed demurely and kept covered at all times. As I got older I realised that she had a large dangling package stuffed beneath her blouse. Although no wider than her body, it hung quite low, a thought that I used to quickly change in embarrassment as a young man. It was therefore a shock to see so much of her on display and I found it hard not to look, especially with the amazing condition her body was in. A hint of a knowing smile made me self-conscious. “You’re looking good, mother. Very fit and healthy” I told her. “Yes. I saw you standing there watching me in the mirror at the back of the gym. Standing there admiring mummy’s body from behind. Well now you can take a good look from the front” she told me sending a flush of embarrassment to my cheeks. She had seen me looking!

The thing is, when somebody says something like that to you, you can’t help but look. I looked at the scantily clad figure before me, trying to get to grips with the idea that this fit toned body belonged to my elderly mother who never showed off her body and was certainly never the athletic type. Looking past the big bust, the sight of a firm stomach with pavement like slabs of abdominal muscle visible just beneath the surface and the outlines of relaxed quadriceps sent a throb through the stiff member in my trousers. That made me blush more, I had a hard-on in front of my mother. “You look amazing” I said. I mean what else could I say to my mum? I could hardly tell her that her body was driving me crazy; that I wanted to feel her all over, caressing every muscular curve and bulge while I got harder and harder until I lost self-control and kissed her in heated passion. My eyes were rooted on her incredible body. “I mean it. You look simply amazing” I said in a mixture of awe and yearning. “That it’s James. Take a good look at mummy’s body” she told me as I continued to stare self-consciously at my mother’s amazing body, unable to tear my eyes away.

“When did you get into bodybuilding?” I asked, uncomfortable with the way she looked at me as I gawped at her body. “What else is there to do in here? I’m not one for sitting around and vegetating. They have a good gym here that hardly anyone uses and that reminded me of those magazines that you tried to keep secret from me. So I built my body just for you, James. Just like those women in those magazines you had in your cupboard along with those women’s self-defence books”. I looked up as a hot blush raced up my face shocked to hear that she had invaded my personal space when I was a teenager and found my stash of magazines. In those days before the Internet, I thought I was strange, the only man to find muscular women erotically attractive. Even pictures of them in magazines were rare and I had to subscribe to American journals such as WASP (later to become WPW) to get my fix. “Oh don’t look so shocked. I had to dust in there when I cleaned your room. Be thankful that your father never saw them, he would have thought you were a homosexual” she said casually as she ripped apart the deep dark secret of the formulative years of my perversion. “Oh, at first I was disgusted that you liked women who looked more like men but then thought that it was just a phase that you would grow out of. When I came here with plenty of time on my hands, I remembered those magazines of yours and began to appreciate how powerful and sexy a body like that must make a women feel. So I started lifting a few light weights and loved the way my body responded then tried some more. Soon I was seriously into it, in here every day for hours at a time pumping iron and changing my diet to lose bodyfat and bulk up. I love the look of my body and how strong I’ve become and best of all, James, I built this body just for you. To become the perfect woman for you. To make your dreams come true”.

Her words were like a bolt out of the blue. I had to run them several times through my mind to confirm that I had heard them correctly. Was this a sign of senility? It didn’t seem to be; yet we had thought she had gone a bit funny after she had a stroke just after my father. Unlike my father, my mother seemed to recover physically if not mentally. Then she ran off with a man who preyed on women in her situation, undoubtedly leading to my father’s steep decline before he passed away. “I’m not sure that I understand” I told her carefully. “I came here to investigate the Covenant, I didn’t expect to find you here”. “Well you won’t find any of them here. They keep themselves to themselves doing God’s Holy work” she told me.

My mother stepped closer, the presence of so much flesh making me uncomfortable. She cupped her breasts and spoke seductively. “Look at me James. Look what a beautiful powerful body your mother has built for you. Go on, feel it. Feel my body. Feel my muscles. I know how much you want to. Just look at that bulge in your trousers. You really want mummy don’t you?”. I was shocked at what I was hearing but the ghastly truth was that she was right. Her amazing body was turning me on but the thought of lusting after my own mother was a major taboo sending my emotions into turmoil. “Please, don’t talk like that. It’s not right. I’m your son” I pleaded as she came close. “No, don’t turn away, James. Look at what your mother has done for you” she told me, gently turning my face in her hands to look at her. My eyes fall upon her thrusting breasts, sending a surge of unwanted lust through my groin, before I look back at her face. She gave a knowing smile then said with a little chuckle “Yes, it’s alright to look, dear. I want you to look. The exercise has even firmed up my bust. They don’t even sag anymore”. Again, her words triggered an automatic response and I found myself staring at her breasts before I forced myself to look away.

A plastic bottle was thrust into my hands. “Here, rub some baby oil onto mummy’s body and I’ll give you a little show all to yourself. Go on” she told me. “I’m not sure this is right” I mumbled. “James. Do as you are told!” she said in a loud commanding voice that made me obey out of instinct. She turned her back towards me and put her hands on her waist, her lats spreading into a vast inverted triangle of taut skin. Tipping some of the lotion into my palms, I tentatively reached out and started applying it to my mother’s back. “Go on. Rub it really well. Make sure every inch of it is covered” she instructed. I started to rub the oil, marvelling at the feel of the taut lumpy muscles that covered her back like a contour map of a very hilly terrain divided vertically by a deep striated canyon straight down the centre of her back. It felt so good that I soon became totally engrossed. “You have such an incredible back” I moaned before remembering who I was feeling. I thought I heard a quiet chuckle.

She flexed her biceps for me to oil at the back. “Oh mummy!” I groaned softly as I ran my hands over the thick peak that had formed there and the triceps that swelled beneath. “That’s right, Son. Feel how big and hard mummy’s biceps are” she said. The feel of big hard feminine muscle glistening with oil slick under my palms wasn’t allowing my stiffy to go down; in fact it was making it worse. I had to keep reminding myself to get a grip and that this fit hot body belonged to my aged mother. She must have known the effect she was having because she flexed her arms several times to pump them up, making the peak even bigger. “Oh God!” I moaned highly aroused with a throbbing erection barely able to stop myself kissing her peaks passionately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this” I apologised profusely, acutely ashamed at my thoughts.

“James. Don’t you dare stop. You oil me down this instant or I will punish you” my mother scolded. Sheepishly, like the obedient son that I am, I calmed myself and put more lotion in my palms and applied it to her compact backside. Her buttocks clenched under my palms into two rock-hard balls of steel that set my cock throbbing again. I worked my way down the back of her legs, noting wrinkled mottled skin that reflected her age then over her hard calves. It was so easy to forget who this amazing body belonged to when I couldn’t see her face. As I rubbed the oil over the back of her body, the fine detail of the musculature became more apparent, accentuating the hard work that she had put in at the gym. With a shiny wet look gleam, the back of her body becomes even more sensual and it became even more difficult not to get aroused. That was why I was dreading doing her front. I finished slicking down her calves and stood up. The beautiful gleaming back before me turned around and once again I had difficulty seeing my mother’s familiar though greatly aged face on top of an unfamiliar lean, ripped muscular body with huge firm breasts and showing off so much flesh. It was a body that was driving me wild with desire and on any other woman, I would be more than happy to feel her muscles and long for the chance to get close and intimate. But with the face of my own mother looking at me, I was wracked with conflicting emotions. That is why I hesitated to oil her front.

“Come on James. Get on with it” she said impatiently. “I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this” I mumbled. Suddenly my mother grabbed my hands and pulled them wide apart, bringing her body close to mine. I gasped in surprise at her shockingly strong grip that threatened to break the smaller bones in my hand and again as a powerful force pressed against my arms. Oh my God, she can’t be this strong! I thought as I found myself bending at the knees as my own mother overwhelmed me in a trial of strength. “Big aren’t they?” she said, smiling at me as my eyes came level with her arms. Unable to counter the powerful downward pressure, I could only stare in disbelief at the thick bulge of bicep muscle and strong forearms that seemed so out of place on my mother as they worked against me. “Oh James, you’ve really let yourself go. I’m in much better shape than you” she said as I struggled in vain to prevent myself sinking lower. Although I had seen her muscles, I still found it difficult to connect this with the mental image I had of my mother. The reality of how much stronger she was than me was another shock that caused strange mixed feelings.

My brain can’t cope with the thought that I can’t stop my own elderly mother. Here I am a healthy man in my early fifties without the strength to push back against my mother who must be in her early eighties. The power flowing through her muscular arms is overwhelming and I find my cock saluting her superior strength. At the same time, the realisation that I’m weaker than my ageing mother is humiliating. Another surge of pressure forces me level with her stomach and I can only gawp helplessly at the slabs of armour plating before my eyes. “I bet I’ve got much bigger muscles than you. You’ve never touched a weight in your life, have you?” she asked with a sour smile as she looked down at me. Oh God, the feeling of being slowly overpowered by a woman’s strong arms had my dick beating like crazy, although the knowledge that this was my own mother was disturbing. There was nothing I could do to counter the strength of her arms. “Admit it. I’m stronger than you are. Come on, son, let me hear you say it” she told me as with a final surge of strength, she forced me to my knees. “Yes mum, you really are much stronger than me” I gasped in humiliation, unable to stop the lustful feelings as I looked at her muscular quads.

“Now get up and obey your mother”. I looked up at the mighty figure towering over me, a muscular old lady in a skimpy blue bikini. Not taking her penetrating brown eyes off me, she hit a double biceps pose. The biceps swelled full and hard in strong vascular looking arms with thick muscular slabs in her forearms. My cock was beating away like a drumstick at the sight. Her hard stomach condensed into a deeply etched six-pack grid work and her quads expanded bulging powerfully from her long legs. “Oh mummy!” I moaned lustfully. I couldn’t help it; my mother’s beautifully sculpted body was too much to handle. “Oh mummy, your body is amazing. Really beautiful. So strong and sexy” the embarrassing words tumbled from my lips before I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way towards her, but the sight of her standing over me like an Amazon goddess flexing in victory had me so unbelievably worked up.

I began to stand up slowly, unable to tear my eyes away from a body that looked vacuum moulded over a perfect musculature. She was never a big woman to begin with but there didn’t seem to be an ounce of body fat on that lean, hard body. For the first time in my life, I actually felt nervous of my own mother and the emotions she caused in me. The sight of two slim but brawny arms reaching towards me was anything but homely and filled me with apprehension. Grabbing the front of my shirt, she physically hauled me to my feet. Before I knew it, I had been thrown over her shoulder with a bump and now had an extremely close-up view of her marbled back. Although my mother had always been slim and slender, I was anything but. I knew I weighed 13 stone or more, yet my grey-haired mother had lifted me as easily as a bag of shopping and was carrying me around the gym with ease. I’m not one of those guys into the lift and carry scene, but the sensation of impotence being carried around by my elderly mother in another demonstration of strength had my erection throbbing against her hard shoulder, she couldn’t have failed to notice the effect that she was having on me. “Please. Put me down, mum” I pleaded as I bounced around on her shoulder, holding onto her rocky back to steady myself. “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you obey me as you as your mother” she told me. “Okay, okay. I’ll oil the rest of you” I said in defeat. I just had to control my emotions that were all, think of something unpleasant while I oiled her down. That shouldn’t be too difficult should it?

With a moment of unbalanced equilibrium, I was dropped back onto my feet. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around the middle of my torso and pulled me close. Urgnnnh, she held me in a tight embrace, my chest pressed against her hard body cushioned only by her large breasts. Her brown eyes bore into mine as her face pulled close. I put my hands on her shoulders, astonished by how ripped and solid they felt. “You are my son. I expect to be obeyed. Don’t disobey me again” she lectured sternly. “Urghhh!” I gasped as the air was forced from my lungs by a sudden surge from the arms around me that lifted my feet clear from the floor. Pulling me even tighter against her body in a mighty bearhug, my chest had no room to expand and draw breath. Hanging in my mother’s strong embrace, my hands found her solid shoulder caps and arms that felt as hard as steel. “Orrrr!” I cried expending valuable air as she pulled me tighter against her body. I threw my head back with my mouth open but was unable to draw breath as the brutal embrace clamped hard. “Oh, James. You do like mummy’s new body. That’s it; get nice and hard for mummy. Nice and hard like mummy’s body” she said over the buzzing in my ears. In horror, I realised that my erection was throbbing against her hard stomach. “I should have done this years ago, but the thought that I would become like those whores in the Sisterhood put me off…” it was increasingly difficult to hear her voice over the buzz saw in my ears and the swooning of vision. I couldn’t believe it, my own mother was crushing me unconscious in her lean powerful arms and there was nothing I could do about it. The feeling of helplessness in her mighty arms made my rod beat stronger against the hard wall of her stomach. Ohhh! Her arms were so strong, oh mummy! She maintained her tight embrace with no sign of motherly concern. Ohhh! The room spun then turned to grey.
***
“Are you ready to do as you’re told now?” a voice asked; my mother’s voice. I found myself on the floor and for a moment couldn’t work out why. Looking up towards the voice was my mother leaning forward with her large chest dangling scarcely contained by a bikini. What is she doing dressed like that? As I get to my feet, a plastic bottle of baby lotion is thrust into my hands. “Now do it” she ordered. As she stood straight, the sight of her taut muscular body brought it all back to me and the unreality of the situation. Splashing some lotion onto my palms, I began to oil down her shoulders and arms, unable to stop enjoying they way they felt. She raised her arms flexing both biceps. “Make sure they are well covered” she commanded and I obeyed like an obedient son.

Despite my self-will, I begun to get aroused again as I rubbed the oil onto the hard muscles. “Do you like what mummy has done to her body?” she asked, looking me straight in the eyes as I worked beneath her armpits and the sides of her torso. “Yes. I think it’s amazing” I admitted truthfully though with less enthusiasm than I actually felt. Her muscles were sexy, but I couldn’t tell my mother that. “Now you have your very own muscle girl, not some image in a magazine. Come on feel your muscle girl’s body” she told me. “Please you’re my mother, you shouldn’t be talking to me like that” I protested. “I’m still your mother and I speak to you any way I want. Now oil that chest” she demanded.

I hesitantly rubbed lotion onto her pectorals, hating myself for enjoying the sensation of the thick cushions of striated muscle leading into her huge cleavage. “Oh come on. Touch them, boy, they won’t bite” she grabbed my hands in frustration and led them over her magnificent bust. The big mounds of breast wobbled excitingly under my hands. “Many a man has tried to get their hands on these and you are one of the few I’ve allowed to touch them”. “They’re sensational” I gasped. “I’m sorry” I mumbled in shame and withdrew my hands quickly to splash on some more lotion. “Don’t worry about it, James. It’s only natural. You’re a man and I’m a woman despite our biological relationship” she said with a chuckle that didn’t make me feel better at all. To make matters worse, she had cupped her breasts forming a massive double handful overflowing with erotic feminine mounds so that I could access her flat stomach. Her abs writhed and flexed under my palms as I oiled them. “Oh God, they’re beautiful!” I gasped unable to contain my excitement as her stomach went from a flat taut board into a grid work of deeply etched slabs beneath my fingers. “That’s it. Oil them good” she encouraged. My breathing was getting heavier and I was growing warmer as I run my hand over and over her rigid washboard stomach. Think of something sad, think of the cold. Oh these abs are so sexy, I just want to kiss them one by one. With slow deliberate motions, I slid my fingers up the middle of her stomach enjoying the sensation of going over the hard blocks and falling then rising through the deep cut ridges until I realised what I was doing and got a grip on myself. “You like those don’t you James?” she asked as I hurriedly moved on.

Not that the next body part was any less of an attraction. I’ll admit that I’m a leg man and that I find a bit of muscle on a woman’s legs to be incredibly sexy. Although my mother’s long legs showed their age, with drier looking, wrinkled and mottled skin, the lines of the sleek quads are clearly visible. She put forward a leg for me to oil, her quads swelling to become harder and more pronounced, the feel of them in my hands giving me another fully-fledged boner. She might be my mum and she might be 80-something but she had great legs. Hell, she had a great body, although I knew it was wrong I couldn’t stop thinking like that. I was a man who found muscle on women very sexy and here was a woman letting me feel her muscles, it was the perfect trap. “Oh mummy!” I moaned lustfully as she placed her hands behind her hand, her abs resembling a brick wall and flexed her quads hard. Now slicked with oil, her quads expanded into a powerful mass of muscle, each bulging and clearly defined. “Oh mummy!” I lost it completely and began passionately kissing her thighs. “Oh mummy, great legs, great legs!” I moaned like a man possessed between kisses. “Oh squeeze me between your legs mummy. Oh so sexy!” I moaned kissing the powerful bulging muscle before finally realising what I was doing. “Sorry. I’m sorry” I mumbled as I forced myself away, burning with embarrassment, the bulge in the front of my trousers testament to my shame.

“Good. I am pleased that you like what I’ve done for you. Now watch your muscle girl pose just for you” she told me, seemingly undisturbed by my outburst of emotion. So with her body gleaming with oil highlighting her taut sinuous body, she began to give me a private posing routine, although there was no music. The way her ripped muscles flowed under her skin and cords and tendons appeared to emphasise her muscularity was exciting and erotic. It was really difficult to remember who this woman was; her amazing body entranced me. Turning slightly sideways on to me, so that I could see the remarkable striations in her large chest, she bent her arm at the elbow in a side biceps pose with her nearside leg bent at the knee showing the thickness in her sleek thighs and the bulge of strong hamstrings. “Come and feel it, James” she said. She didn’t need to ask twice. I was there feeling the rugged solidity of her bicep as she flexed it by her side and the prominence of the bicep vein running vertically up it. “I could knock you out in no time if I got your head in there. Would you like that, son?” she asked. “Oh yes” I gasped becoming highly turned on. “You wouldn’t say that if I did it” she chuckled and flowed into another pose.

Turning completely sideways on to me, she straightened her arm by her side and using her other hand stretched it out behind her at a slight angle tensing her triceps. “Wow! Amazing!” I gasped. Her shoulder caps were so ripped, the bicep vein really stood out and her forearm was a shredded mass of bulges and vine-line veins and tendons. But most impressively of all, her triceps were absolutely huge. She rotated her arm back and forth slightly letting me see how dense and well defined they were, the vertically sweeping arc at the front edge of the group of three muscles clearly visible, as was its main mass. “Impressive!” I said in appreciation. With arms like those, no wonder she forced me to the floor so easily, I didn’t stand a chance. I felt my dick throb at the thought and tried to suppress the thought.

The old woman, my mother I had to keep reminding myself, continued to move through a series of positions designed to show off every aspect of her well-developed body. Throughout it all, I tried to keep my cool and refrain from feeling each muscle group but it was difficult. She faced me and tensed her arms together with her hands grasped that made her biceps swell up so powerfully that I couldn’t resist feeling them remembering with growing lust the rib crushing power she had used to knock me out in their embrace. Still with her arms in front she flexed her striated pectorals sending my cock throbbing as they pulled her large breasts tighter together and causing them rise up her chest, two big orbs of female sensuality that almost had me drooling. That left me with weak self-control as she hit a double biceps, breathing heavily as I felt the thick muscle lining her arms, still unable to comprehend how powerful my elderly mother looked and how much it was turning me on.

She put her hands behind her head, flexed her six-pack then her quads. “Oh mummy!” I moaned at the sight. All pretence at reserve disappeared and I was caressing and kissing her quads as they bulged beneath my lips. “Sorry, sorry” I gasped trying to regain control but the next pose completely did me in. Leaning slightly forward with her legs apart and flexed, she tensed her mighty arms inwards tensing almost every muscle group in a most-muscular that left me groaning loudly with lust. “Oh mummy! mummy!” I moaned crazily as I ran my hands along her thick bulging arms. “Oh mummy, you’re too much!” I groaned as I felt her striated cushioned chest and huge boobs. I couldn’t stop; I grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her passionately on the mouth as my cock beat a tattoo in my trousers. “Oh I want you. I want you” I moaned between kisses then what I had said sunk in sobering me immediately. I stepped back alarmed and greatly ashamed at my reaction to her body.

“It’s alright, James. I built this body for you. I want you to worship my muscles and make mad passionate love to me” her words hit me like a thunderbolt. I was speechless at what she had just said. Horrified but unable to turn away, I watched as the old grey haired woman reached around behind her back and removed her bra. Unleashed from her bra, her huge breasts sprung downwards and apart like two large fleshy torpedoes. As well as a legman, huge breasts on a slim woman really turned me on and my mother’s were perfect in this respect, more than perfect. My cock gave a big lurch as I gawped at my mother’s bare breasts. Although her face was well worn and clearly showed her age, her breasts were sensational and quite firm for her age. The thick striated cushion of pectoral muscles held them aloft as perky as many women 4 times younger. I couldn’t stop gawping at her bare breasts, dark aureoles and erect nipples that I hadn’t seen since I was a baby. “Come on James. Take a good suck on these. You always enjoyed being breast fed”. “As a baby!” I exclaimed in alarm.

“Is that all the gratitude I get for giving birth to you and bringing you up” she snapped. “No, of course not, but please put your top back on”. “I’m not ashamed of my body. Are you ashamed of it?” she asked. “No, of course not. I think it’s magnificent” I replied truthfully. Although her face was old and weathered, she was still recognisable the fine looking woman I remembered from my youth. However, her magnificent sculpted body was not familiar and was frankly driving me crazy. With her large firm breasts bare, I found it impossible to stop staring lustfully at her body. The temptation was so strong; I was really finding it hard to resist reaching out and groping that stunning body. Her age was certainly not a problem. I had no aversion to making love to an old age pensioner if she turned me on, such as the mighty Jean [JIMP#42]. However this was my mother, the realisation that I was sexually attracted to my own mother was deeply disturbing. “Don’t resist it, James. You want your mummy’s body” she said placing her hands behind her head, the orbs of her large breasts rising and her chiselled abs solidifying. Oh God, this topless muscular vision had me absolutely throbbing but the social taboo was strong too. “Please mum, don’t. That’s incest” I protested weakly.

Her mouth pouted sourly indicating her displeasure. Without warning, she leapt high into the air with an unexpected litheness. Her bare feet kicked out towards me in a drop kick. BAM! “Orrrrgh!” I cried as a foot hammered hard against the centre of my chest. I staggered back across the gym with a pain in my chest and short of breath. Unbelievably my mother rushed forward, grabbed my arm and turned while sliding an arm around my shoulders. Too stunned by my mother’s unexpected violence, I felt her compact backside thrust into my groin then felt my feet leave the floor as she bent forward and throw my over her hip. WHAM! I hit the mats on the gym floor. My brain whirled, dazed not only by the unexpected throw but also failing to comprehend what was happening. Strong taut arms reached down and the elderly grey haired woman yanked me physically to my feet.

Without giving me pause to think, I’m suddenly falling towards my mother as she rolls back towards the floor with a foot in my stomach then I’m hurling across the mat. SLAM! My back hits the mats once more. She threw me! She’s throwing me around like a Judo expert! How the hell did she do that? I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Orrr!” My train of thought was cut off as my mother leapt on top of me, grabbed my hands and tore my arms apart pressing them towards the mats with shocking strength. I pressed upwards stopping my hands a few inches above the mat but she was shockingly strong. I looked up at my mother, her huge bare breasts dangling close to my face, her face looked fierce and determined. Orrrr! A steady surge of strength through her arms completely overwhelms me and the back of my hands hit the mat. Her big bust squashes against my chest and her face comes near. I can see her biceps either side of me bulging solidly pinning my arms to the floor. “I’m stronger than you, James. I’m in much better shape than you” she stated. “How does it feel to be physically dominated by your mother?”. She lowered her face so that we were almost touching noses, her pupils dilated with exhilaration. “By the feel of that erection pressing against me, I’d say that you like it very much” she said. I was too embarrassed to reply.

She began laughing, pulling my arms one way then the other as she lay on top of me. This was so humiliating; I was a mature man yet I too weak to stop my elderly mother moving my hands around the mat wherever she wanted. Yet at the same time, it was also a turn on feeling the power of her muscled arms, unable to offer any resistance. Finally she stopped and held down both of my hands over my head using just one arm, her dangling breasts battering me in the face until she moved them out of the way and flexed a big bicep. “Look how easily I’m beating you” she taunted.

“Mum, please..” I gasped but she didn’t let me finish. “More? Why of course” she replied. A brawny arm wrapped itself around the underside of my head and she pulled me into a sitting position while kneeling at my side applying a strong side headlock. “Argh!” I groaned at the painful pressure crushing against my jaw and pressing against my neck. I grasped at her arm, staggered how hard and vascular it felt. In my memories, my mother’s arms were soft, slim and welcoming, not strong and brawny, inflicting pain like this. “Argh!” I cried as she gave a twist in brutal disregard for her own son. I felt her move around behind me, her tight arm slipping around so that my throat was hard against the crook of her elbow. “Ohhh!” I gasped as her steely old forearm closed incredibly tightly against my neck on one side while a hard bicep bulged on the other. My God! She had me in a sleeper hold. Where had she learnt to do that? “Oh James, this take me back. Remember when I used to use you for self-defence practice?” I heard her say. What on earth is she talking about? She never did self-defence or anything like that. “You used to get so hard I couldn’t resist making you cream yourself before knocking you out. I now it was naughty of me, but I just loved the feel of you going limp in my arms or between my legs. It made me very wet indeed. I was forever cleaning out your underwear” She said. My head was swirling through lack of oxygen to the brain, I must have misheard. My hands fell away limply from her arms, unable to find the tiniest gap with which to pull them away. Was she going crazy? She never did any of that stuff? She must be confusing imagination with reality or was the lack of blood to the brain making this up? “You don’t remember? That hypnotic block must have been stronger than they said. I never trusted those Indian doctors” I barely heard her over the sound of my heart in my ears. What block? She must be really going senile. Ohh! I felt so weak and nauseous. Helpless in my mother’s strong arms, I succumb with a raging hard erection saluting the incredible dominant power she is exerting over me. I seemed to fall into a deep dark well.
***
“Come on get up, James. Don’t be such a wimp” a stern woman’s voice berated me. I looked up to see a topless elderly muscle woman standing over me. It took a couple of seconds to realise that the magnificent physique belonged to my mother. My eyes travelled up her muscled quads, over the defined V from her crotch to the top of her hips, the grid work of abs, her brawny arms and her large firm bare breasts with conflicting emotions. Slowly I stood up, unable to take my eyes of her incredible body remembering how she had dominated me. A suspicion took root and grew. Was she a member of the Sisterhood of Anahita? She didn’t wear the necklace of their goddess. I voiced my suspicions then jumped as her face flashed into anger. “That bunch of whores! Don’t mention them in my presence” she shouted. “You’ve heard of them?” I asked in surprise. “Oh yes, I know all about them. Filthy whores. We would have been rich if it weren’t for your grandfather giving the family fortune away to those whores. I hope the Covenant expose them for what they are” she said vehemently. “I’ve never heard anything of this before. Please tell me, I’ve been trying to investigate them for years”. “If you want to know about them, go and ask your father’s whore. Now, change the subject” she told me angrily.

“Please, I need to know” I began then gawped in horror as my mother whipped off her skimpy briefs and stood with her legs askance. “Stop asking questions, you’re making me angry. Now get in there and make mummy happy before I punish you like a naughty little boy” she said heatedly. “Mum please! I’m your son. Don’t say such things” I protested aghast at her suggestion. She strode towards me, her face angry with her lips pursed. I tried to back away but before I could move, she had grabbed my wrists stretching my arms out to either side and pulling my chest against hers. “You will do whatever I tell you. You are my son and will obey me” she snarled fiercely. Being pressed against my mother’s fit toned body like that made me very aware of her nakedness.

Suddenly she grabbed my shoulders and pulled them down forcing me to bend. I felt her put all her weight on me then jump. Her legs wrapped around my head and I found myself looking out from between the backs of her legs at the floor while she clung to my stooped back. Unable to support the weight, I fell. My mother rolled on top of me, with my head wedged firmly between her thighs. “Orrr!” I groaned as strong taut legs gripped hard powering against the sides of neck and the bottom of my face. “Orr!” I had an extremely close view of her buttocks clenched into two hard balls resembling tan coloured bowling balls. “Orr!” I held onto them as they clenched again, unyielding under my fingers as power surged from her eighty-something legs. “Arghh Arggh!” I yelped as my clamped head was whipped from one side to other as she punished me in her legs; reverse scissoring me close to her bare buns of steel. “Mum please!” I begged, I didn’t want to admit it but my mother’s old legs were really too strong for me. She didn’t seem to listen or care rolling me from side to side exerting her dominance with long legs that cut into the sides of my neck like a pair of scissors and snap my jaw in doing so.

“Orghh!” I cried as one long final squeeze threatened to send me to oblivion then with relief I found my head free. Exhausted from the ordeal, I could only in disbelief as my mother’s naked form slid back and her backside planted itself firmly on my face. “Mmmmmm!” I protested as my nose was wedged right up between her tight buttocks. I was sure I could feel her pussy lips on my mouth then she sat up straight. “Mmmmm!” I opened my eyes to the bird’s eye view of her rounded buttocks. “Mmmm! Mmm!” I complained as she rubbed herself on my face emphasising her superiority. I felt so utter dominated that my dick was once more as hard as a rock. “Oh James. That looks uncomfortable. Here let me help you””Mmmm!” I was powerless to stop her as she took hold of my legs, bent them over me then pulled off my trousers and pants exposing my erect rod of shame.

The smothering buttocks lifted from my face and I gulped down fresh air. Something touched my erection and I gave a start looking up to see my elderly mother sitting astride the top of my thighs, naked, oiled and ripped flexing her thick double biceps at me. I gasped as her bush pressed against my rigid dick. “Oh you want to make your mother very happy by the look of that” she said solemnly. She lent forward and those intimidating rippling arms came towards my head and forced me to sit as she pulled my shirt off. Sitting in my lap, she flexed her bicep in front of my face. “Kiss it James. Honour the woman who gave you life” she commanded. The muscle on arms that were once so slim and soft stood proud like a small rocky hill. My willpower crumbled and I obeyed, kissing the firm muscle with rising passion.

Once more my mother shocked me. “You know how to satisfy a woman orally, don’t you son? Your father never did. He would never stand for that sort of thing” she said calmly. I looked at her in astonishment. “Good” she said then pushed me back down to lay on my back while moving to sit high on my chest, pinning my arms with her legs. I looked up at this old woman sitting on my chest so dominantly, her face so familiar but her body not, unable to look away from her nakedness. “I’ve always done things for you. Sacrificed things in order to raise you. Now it’s your turn to give me something in return. Make me happy” she told me. “Mum!” I gasped as she slid forwards, her strong thighs closing in against my face giving a gentle squeeze that I knew was a warning. “Please it’s not natural. You’re my mother” “That didn’t bother you when you were lusting after my body with that thing sticking up in your trousers”. “Mmmm!” my words were cut over as she smothered my mouth. “Anyway I have a better body than your wife. You married so beneath you” “Mmm mmmm!” “Although that might be my fault. Maybe the mind block was too severe” “Mmmm mmm!” She was on my face; my own mother was on my face. In my experience this was the sexiest expression of female domination and always got me going, except I never expected my own mother to sit on my face. Despite myself I am really turned on and find myself holding her hips and nuzzling her pussy struggling with my inner control. “That little blonde was so much prettier. Do you remember her at your betrothal ceremony?”. It was no use, with a hot muscular bodied woman sitting on my face, it was all too highly erotic and I started to lick. “Oooh that’s nice. Such a sweet little girl. Freak! Training a British girl at that temple of sin of theirs. No son of mine is going to marry a red-eyed whore”. I didn’t know what she was talking about but I was so engrossed at worshipping this incredible body, forgetting for the moment who she was.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!” she moaned loudly, rubbing herself back and forth over my face. She came so hard that I felt her squirting in my face. As she got off my face, I was horny as hell and wanted relief. The naked muscle woman sat by my side with one leg stretched out and the other bent, exposing her crotch. Full of lust I crouched over her and took her breasts in my hand, fondling them and kissing them passionately. With the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I spread her legs and prepared to enter her, but one look at that face stopped me. I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t take my mother. In my hesitation, slim mottled old legs snuck around my waist. “Arghh!” I suddenly found myself on my knees, facing my mother, with my middle feeling like it was stuck in quick drying cement. “Orrr!” my hands clasped at the legs crushing my middle but they were solid, oily and I could feel the sleek quads bulging as she poured on the pressure relentlessly. “You should have taken me while you had the chance, you decrepit old man. Just look at you, red-faced and struggling so helplessly between my legs” she said. Rocking myself back and forth did no good, I was stuck fast. I caught a glimpse of my mother’s face and the sullen, sour-faced expression that I knew so well when she was disappointed with me. “Weak and decrepit. I’m much stronger than you are. Look”. I looked, trapped with what felt like flesh covered steel girders around my waist and my mother flexed both biceps at once. “Ohh!” I groaned, my insides getting squeezed into a smaller and smaller space, as two strong well-formed mounds of muscle grew on my mother’s arms.

I gasped as my mother’s long slender legs squeezed around my middle much stronger than I could have imagined. “Strong aren’t they, James?” she told me, watching me struggle in her immobilizing body scissors. My hands grasped futilely against the thick thigh muscle trying to get purchase on the slickly oiled mottled skin as they relentlessly powered her firm lean legs inwards crushing my sides painfully and constricting my diaphragm making it hurt to breathe. “Orrr!” I groaned as the tight pressure took its toll. “What’s wrong dear, are mummy’s legs too strong for you?”. “Orrrr!” It really felt like she was trying to cut me in two with her hard legs. Her brown eyes bored into me coldly, her small mouth pursed and slightly down turned in a familiar expression of displeasure. “Orr!” I groaned as my aged mother continued to assert her dominance over me, the feeling kept me rock hard despite the discomfort. “OK, OK, please stop” I begged. But she won’t stop.

Without showing any motherly concern and to my astonishment, she placed her hands on the floor and started to push herself up, her ripped biceps bulging hugely under the strain of supporting both of our bodyweights. Her slim legs, swollen with muscle like some strange whorls of a walnut shell began to straighten increasing the pressure brutally. “Orrrrrrr!” I cry in pain. It feels like her hard legs are powering themselves together, closing the gap between them and not even the bulk of my body could stop them. I threw my head back, rocking back and forth in vain, my mouth open in a silent scream as my head whirled and my vision turned to grey. WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM wave after wave of hard unyielding flesh battered my waist as my mother sent surges of pressure through her incredibly strong legs, relaxing then tensing her powerful thighs. It seems like she is toying with me like that for ages, the brief moments where she relaxes her legs slightly keeping me from passing out before another powerful surge threatens to turn my insides to mush. “…..!” Finally she clamps her legs together hard and squeezes with all her might. It is too much and I feel myself go limp in her mighty legs.
***
SLAP! I awake to find my mother sitting astride my chest slapping my cheek. “There’s no time for that. Come on, play with me” she admonished, looking down at me with cold eyes and a sour expression. Without warning she leapt upon me, chest to chest, pulling my arms to either side of my head with a totally overwhelming force. I still had trouble comprehending that the mother I had known for so long was suddenly so much stronger than I was, but the way her biceps bulged like very solid hills and the power pinning my hands firmly against the floor was undeniable. I felt her legs thread between mine. WOW! My legs were ripped wide apart by a tremendous force. I was completely helpless once again, held spread-eagled in a grapevine beneath my grey-haired mother. Pressed against her fit lithe body, I was consciously aware of our nudity and that reawoke my erection. “Oh this feels so good, James. Look at you; you really can’t stop me, can you? You don’t know how good that makes me feel” she told me, looking down at me as she continued to stretch my limbs apart with ease. “Oh, you’re so strong, mum” I gasped trying not too think of her naked body or the effect her strength was having on me. “I could just rip you apart” she laughed. “Arghh! No! Please mum!” I cried as white-hot pain lanced through my crotch as she forced my legs wider apart well beyond the limits of my flexibility. “Please stop” I begged as her irresistible power felt as if she was going to rip my legs off. “Look at you, completely weak and subjugated by my muscles. Oh, that makes me feel so hot between the legs” she told me staring into my eyes. Her face came close, intimately close; there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop her. With the feel of her strong legs forcing my legs painfully apart, my mother started kissing me in hot passion on the mouth and certainly not in a motherly way. The shock of finding my mother’s tongue writhing in my mouth was soon overcome by the response the tactile sensations caused.

The unmotherly kissing stopped and I found myself with a crazed mature wildcat on my hands. I just couldn’t stop her as she pulls my hands one way then the other in a one sided grapple while her legs immobilised mine. The rare expression of joy on my mother’s face told me that she was enjoying using her strength against me. She may not be very tall and she wasn’t massively built but she packed more than enough muscle on her small slim frame to completely dominate me. Still maintaining the excruciating grapevine, she reared up above me and large dangling breasts headed towards my face. Strong arms forced their way behind the back of my head and pulled me tight against a well ripped muscular chest, her breasts squashing up into two large pillows on either side smothering me as she gave me a tight squeeze. “Mmmmm!” I felt so weak in my mother’s arms. The chest smother became a side headlock, the pumped small hard peak of her biceps digging deep into my throat choking me. “Urkk!” I croaked in utter defeat, unable to stop my mother choking me to death even if I wanted to.

Suddenly the hard rock burrowing into my windpipe disappeared, as did the pain tearing through the ligaments in my crotch. My mother crouched over me, put one hand on her hip and flexed her right bicep. “Kiss it or I’ll really show you what I can do” she told me ominously. My cock lurched at the implied threat and I sat up, obeying her command. This was no longer my mother in my mind but a ferocious old muscle woman with an incredible body, completely naked and demanding to be worshipped.

She stood up, flexing both biceps in victory. She looked so utterly powerful and dominant as she stood over me that my cock was thumping hard. I rose slowly, running my hands over her muscled quads as I kissed them with growing passion. Still aware at the back of my mind that this was my mother, I bypassed her bush and worked my way over her washboard stomach, its hardness contrasting with the softness of her large breasts. Fully standing, I spread my hands outwards from her hard shoulder caps onto the thick solid biceps while gazing at my mother’s well-weathered face. I wanted this muscle woman so much, yet could not bring myself to kiss my mother passionately on the mouth, although I really wanted to. Instead I worshipped those mighty arm muscles.

The biceps moved away from my lips and I watched in awe as the naked grey-haired muscle woman leant forwards, tensing her brawny arms as she brought them inwards, bent at the elbow with her fists clenched. Every muscle on her toned ripped body seemed to bulge and ripple with fearsome strength. The cuts and striations and sheer vascularity made her look like some kind of mass muscle monster. The sight of so much naked bulging striated feminine muscle close in front of me tipped me over the edge. I completely lost it and started kissing her with rising passion on the mouth while my hands wandered all over her muscular upper body, groping her with wild abandon.

We ended up on the mats. The sensational muscle woman opened her legs and I plunged myself deep inside her, blinded by lust and pumping away at her like crazy. “Oh yes James, yes! Make love to mummy” she moaned. It was so wrong but felt so right. The first woman to nurture and love me and show me kindness is now a fabulous muscular superwoman making my fantasies come true. I just can’t stop pumping away at her, “Oh! That’s it son make mummy pregnant” “Urrrrrrrr!” that was too much, that was the trigger that sent me over the edge, after so much denial I came hard and strong. For a while I lay in my naked mother’s arms still inside her, feeling the sticky heat of her furnace and her contractions, feeling mortified at what I had just done. As if reading my thoughts, the old woman flexed her biceps hard. “Feel them, James” she whispered. I caressed the hard muscle with my hands, their feel and the tight contractions of her pussy reawakening my ardour; I kissed her mouth again with mounting passion.

I know you don’t want me to give you all the gory details but I discovered the fatal attraction Oedipus must have found. It was like opening Pandora’s box. Once inside her, I just couldn’t stop making love to this old muscle woman. It was like some kind of drug and I just couldn’t resist its lure. She didn’t have the skills of the Sisterhood but she was very fit and passionate, seemingly inexhaustible. Finally I collapsed, completely exhausted physically and sexually by my own mother. That’s when the shame and mortification hit me. I lay there in my mother’s arms, unable to think how I was going to be able to face her to say my farewells and realising that our relationship will never be the same again.
***
29th June 1876
The pilgrims are openly hostile telling us that we are not welcome in this holy place. Only the beggars come near. We believe that the priestess had poison on her hands and feet. How else could a mere woman kill a man with a single blow? Windthorpe tells me that beggars lower a piece of string from a floor above to a sleeper’s nostrils down which they trickle a sleeping potion to ensure they will not wake while they rob them. He wants them to do the same to the women in the temple so that we can enter and take the treasure within in the name of the Empress of India. To disable any sentries, our engineers have devised blowpipe guns that shoot darts dipped in the same venom. I do not like the idea of using such untrustworthy wretches but can see no alternative.

2nd July 1876
We made the temple under the cover of darkness. The beggars ushered us in and led us to the inner sanctum. Although there are golden statues and ornaments, Windthorpe is disappointed and ordered the beggars to continue searching for treasure. The treasure of knowledge displayed on the walls, however, captivates me. Paintings of great antiquity of the like of which I have never seen adorn the walls along with writing of an Avestan nature. Although the characters seem familiar, I cannot make sense of them. The most ancient of these drawings, venerated by a shrine draped with garlands of flowers and burning incense, depict inhuman looking gods and goddesses travelling through the air on vehicles of fire. Below these, shown in poses of subjugation are human figures of all types; I spot characters that are clearly Caucasians, Oriental and Negro. How was this possible? Central to the frieze is a very female figure with many arms and legs. The same figure carved in black ebony stands pride of place in the shrine dancing in a circle of flames with weapons in her hands. I recall the priestess who attacked us wore a necklace bearing the same figure. This must be Anahita. Returning my attention to the wall art, I see that interspersed between the goddess and the humans are other female figures, drawn wearing black robes and hoods, their eyes are depicted as red with a red stripe across their faces across their eyes.

At that moment, I came upon a small wooden chest encrusted with jewels and precious stones. Within, I found a strange mechanical device bearing rings of letters, but I cannot fathom its purpose. I put the object in my jacket pocket for later examination. My professional curiosity fired, I started to copy the writing in my notebook to study at my leisure. Windthorpe told me that the beggars had failed us and the women were gathering to block our escape. He urged me to leave but I told him that the inscriptions looked important and were probably the true treasure. He dismissed this and said that we were leaving now. I saw that he took the jewel-encrusted box as he left.

The sight that greets me is terrible. Dainty Indian women in beautifully coloured saris are attacking fully trained British soldiers, unarmed. I saw one sultry eyed pretty young woman, surely not yet out of her teens, with a petite figure and her raven coloured hair tied back, approach a man with her fists balled like a boxer then punch him hard several times about his head. The man seemed too shocked to defend himself as the girl displayed a ferocity that belied her delicately slim body, bloodying his face before he fell away unconscious. “Fight back you imbeciles” Windthorpe urged as the young woman with the smouldering brown eyes approached another soldier, one much bigger and taller than herself. She showed no fear as he swung a big meaty fist at her head, disdainfully slashing with the side of her open hand at his arm, stopping the blow in mid-air then punching her arm straight out before her striking him squarely on the chin. I felt a strange eroticism as the big man’s eyes rolled back and he fell senseless, a big soldier knocked out with a single punch by delicate looking Indian girl in a sari.

All around us Indian women of all ages engage in unarmed battle with our soldiers. I saw an older woman kick amazingly high, unencumbered by her sari, with a quick sideways sweeping motion so quick that a man would be clubbed by her foot around the head, that he would fall senseless even before he had a thought to defend himself. I watched in stupefaction as several men fell to the amazing long flexible legs of this woman before I realised with shame that she was having the same effect on my manhood as a Parisian can-can dancer.

Overcoming their reluctance to hit a woman, some of the men tried to fight back but the women’s long slender legs could outreach a man’s arm. All around, men were being battered by high kicks to the head and chest. Although many of these native beauties were petite and looked fragile, their long slim legs unleashed devastation out of all proportion.

A terrible bone-chilling crack and a man’s scream close-by drew my attention. One young woman in a black sari had stomped down at a man’s knee and broke his leg. She stood watching impassively with her hands open, one by her chest the other raised in front in some sort of challenge. Somehow she seemed so fierce and powerful that I found my manhood throbbing with lust for this deadly dark skinned maiden. Suddenly she stepped forward and slashed the disabled soldier with a chop to his neck. As if by magic, the big man fell limply to the ground at her bare feet. I was rooted to the spot as she turned her sultry eyes towards me and she moved forwards, her pretty face set stern. Sergeant Jones tried to club her with the end of his rifle but as gracefully as a dancer she leant away then her foot shot out so powerfully against his jaw that I heard it break and saw his head dislocate. Her dark eyes bore into me, she was coming to get me, to destroy me with her hands and feet that seemed so soft and delicate but had the power to kill a man. I was entranced by her feminine allure and felt oddly submissive to the undeniably lethal power of her young nubile body. She was only forced back by the threat of a bayonet but not before she had kicked another man straight in the face, the skirt of her sari lifting to reveal her slender calves, leaving him dead on the ground with a bloody nose.

“They are killing us with their legs” I exclaimed to Windthorpe scarcely able to comprehend my own eyes. Even small girls barely in their teens were laying waste to fully grown British soldiers with legs so thin one imagined would snap let alone deliver a force barely strong enough to bother a man. Yet they kicked faster than the eye could blink, kicking higher than a man’s head felling men many times their own size. Windthorpe swore as we saw a young lovely kick a man in his chest and propelled his weighty body several feet backwards through the air before landing heavily on the ground. “Fight back for god’s sake. They are not women, they are demons. Use your bayonets. Hit them, hit them!” Windthorpe shouted, his voice showing stress as he overrode his earlier orders not to use arms on defenceless women.

Still, many of the men were reluctant to strike women, especially when confronted by a group of young girls in saris. I watched in disbelief as a group of such girls approached our men and stood in confrontation with their fists raised and balled as if these tiny girls were about to box big burly soldiers. My manhood leapt as, in unison, they gave a loud shout and as one, punched the men’s chests with their tiny fists. These were only little girls but the men reacted as if they had been punched by big burly men and staggered back in pain clutching their chests. Winded, the men were powerless as in perfect chorography; each young girl pulled a man’s arm over their shoulders, turned their backs to them then leaned forward. I held my breath, thinking that the weight of such big burly men would surely crush such skinny little girls but was astonished to see the men flying over their shoulders and landing heavily on their backs at their feet as if they were rag dolls. “Not possible. Not possible!” Windthorpe moaned in dismay. Yet as the men lay at the girl’s feet, they cruelly bent their wrists, which snapped audibly. Grown soldiers screamed in agony, thoroughly bested by young native girls who were little more than skin and bones. They seemed so confident and superior as they knelt over them, that I felt a strange attraction in my loins. As one, they raised their hands then struck like cobras, the side of their small hands chopping the men’s necks like they were chopping meat with a cleaver whence the men ceased their cries and stopped moving. What kind of creatures are these? So petite and lovely yet destroying the best of the British army with ease.

Alarmed into action, other men tried to stab the women with their bayonets or combat knives but the sari clad females disarmed them as easily as taking a toy from a child then slashed at their necks with their hands causing the men to fall senseless or worse to the ground.

“They are going to overrun us. Fall back. Maintain a defensive wall” Windthorpe’s presence of mind realised the danger and ordered a retreat back into the inner sanctum, which would be more easily defended. I felt as I was dreaming as all around us, I saw slim elegantly dressed dark skinned women kick and chop men with skinny limbs that dropped men to the ground. Windthorpe had to pull me along as I gawped mesmerised as an old grey-haired woman in a pink sari threw a large soldier over her shoulder, while next to her a lovely young girl in a blue sari tossed a fully grown man head over heels into the ground like he was a toy.

The thought that we were retreating from women was so shameful that some of the men tried to raise and fire their rifles but the confined space of the temple made this too awkward and more often than not a woman was upon him before a man had got off a shot. I saw the high priestess walking towards me, the fine looking old woman in an elegant red and gold sari totally unimpeded by soldiers in her path. One man blocked her path and raised his rifle, to my amazement the elegant slim woman tossed him behind her as if he weighed nothing with just a flick of her arm. This was more than just poison, it was heathen magic. Another rushed forward to stab her with his bayonet but she just fell upon her back dragging him down with her but before he crushed her beneath him, the hem of her sari rose and she kicked him over her body. Without her hands touching the ground, she threw herself back onto her shoulders then threw herself to her feet. She was unstoppable.

Windthorpe pulled me into the sanctum chamber and ordered some of his men to open fire while others pulled down some of the statues and pedestals to form a barricade. Through it all strode the high priestess. A fallen pedestal lay across her path, it must have been at least 3 feet in diameter. She stopped and raised her hand. Suddenly a terrifying ungodly cry left her lips, making me jump, her hand slashed down and to my utter horror the thick stone split apart! “Fire fire! Kill her!” I screamed in mindless terror as the guns opened up around me. What kinds of she-devils were these? How did they possess such supernatural abilities?

The bloodshed went on, Windthorpe’s men shooting at anyone approaching the barricade while the women started throwing spears and firing arrows in return. Sicken by the waste of life; I try to take my mind off it by completing the recording of the wall art in my notebook.

3rd July 1876
By dawn, the fighting has stopped but we knew they were still out there. Running short of ammunition, Windthorpe ordered a charge to lead our escape. Under sporadic attack from arrows, spears and thrown rocks, we made our escape. Outside lay the field of our shame. Hundreds of native women in their lovely saris lay dead alongside the majority of our men.

In the temple forecourt is a horrific sight. The beggars that helped us are standing in the centre, immobile life-like statues in contorted poses, their faces frozen in expressions of extreme agony. They are dead, their bodies rigid but by what magic we could not comprehend. We fled in terror through the narrow canyon, losing more men to bombardment from above as our troops used their remaining bullets to cover our retreat.

Lord Gerald Symthe-Jones, personal diary

Advertisements

One thought on “Obeying Mother (JIMP#43)”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s