Sister in law Martin Kane, martin_s_kane@yahoo.co.uk It wasn't the Karate suit that worried him but what she revealed beneath --- Author's note: First the standard blub on copyright, which is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission before copying, altering, posting etc. Secondly, I invite anyone to send their comments, suggestions, thoughts or suspicions should they care to. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all character merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- Arthur got up, annoyed. The doorbell rang again before he reached it. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, stomping through the hall. Through the frosted glass he saw a silhouette, a woman in white. Who the hell? He was none the wiser when he opened the door to see a woman, thirtyish, standing on his doorstep. She was pale-skinned and black-haired. Intensely pretty, with strong, angular features and the most affectionate and soft, smiling eyes he’d ever seen. She was tall, at least an inch above his own five-ten; broad shoulders; stood in a bold, assured pose. She wore a curious outfit - white robes, almost like pyjamas. She was wearing a karate suit. Soft yet rough towelling, dazzling white. Set off neatly by a black belt. She was barefooted, balancing easily on the balls of her feet, ready and all too willing for action. Arthur met her gaze. She stared at him with a confident and fixed look. "Hello?" he muttered. "What do you want?" "My name is Dana," she introduced smoothly, her voice cool and contained. Despite that there was something else - something deeper that she was apparently holding within. For the moment at least. "So?" Arthur grunted. "We spoke on the phone," she reminded him. "I’m Libby’s sister. Libby, the one you’re married to, remember?" This provoked a reaction. "Where the fuck is that bitch?" he hissed suddenly. "Oh don’t worry about her, she’s fine," Dana assured. "Remember what I told you?" "What, what the fuck are you talking about?" "Do you remember I spoke to you on the phone?" Dana hissed, venom in her voice. Her fury was barely contained and threatened to burst out of her. "Do you remember what I told you?" "You’re crazy," Arthur snorted, though he was a little worried. After all, when he’d dismissed his wife’s sister on the phone, he couldn’t see her. She didn’t mention anything about karate or of black belts. "I promised to kick the shit out of you if you ever dared lay a finger on my sister," Dana reminded him helpfully. "And yet she turns up on my doorstep, bruised and weeping like a child." "You should keep out of our business," Arthur snarled, feeling more and more uncomfortable here. "Do you have anything to say?" Dana asked, her voice almost sweet in its malevolence. "Fuck you," he offered. Dana actually laughed, a short, incredulous articulation of disbelief and contempt. Then she kicked him. Her body twisted around in a movement that was fluid in its grace and yet still awesome in its power. The effect was devastating. Her foot connected with calculated precision, sinking into his solar plexus. Two things happened simultaneously. Arthur felt as if he’d been sliced in half even as his body flew backwards, doubling as he was propelled to the end of his hallway. He crashed into the far wall and then sank into a broken heap. Dana followed him into the house at a more measured pace. She closed the door and walked up to him, towering over his quivering form. "You like that?" she asked him, her voice a spiteful hiss. "I’m just getting started." She kicked, a sharp forward jerk of her foot, pivoted from the knee. Arthur gasped as her foot struck the wall an inch from his head, the impact cracking the plaster there. Dana smiled, taking pleasure from his fear. She slid her fingers slowly around to the belt of her suit, untying it. She let the two black ends of the belt fall away and eased the jacket off with the same relish and show as a stripper. What she revealed beneath however, was far more shocking and spectacular. Despite his pain and fear, Arthur could not help but be awed by what he saw as his eyes travelled the height of her torso. Her stomach was rippled and muscled, flat as concrete and doubtless just as hard. Her breathing set cascading rolls of abdominal muscles. Her chest tapered out into a broad, athletic physique. Her breasts were modest due to the incredible muscle tone though still retained enough shape to keep her feminine curves. Her nipples jutted through a white sports-bra. But the arms. Her arms were unbelievable - thick and heavily developed. The simplest motion of her arms sent the biceps into huge, pounding coils of muscle. She wasn’t simply an athlete - she was a bodybuilder of the highest order. "Oh shit," Arthur murmured, his state of shock having transferred from pain to that of anticipation. "Indeed," Dana agreed with him readily. She swept her massive arms around into a traditional double biceps pose. The resultant shift of muscle mass was truly awesome. Her biceps swelled up, bursting with raw strength. They were so enormous that it almost seemed that they would burst right through the flesh. "Please," Arthur whined. "Please don’t hurt me." "Hurt you?" Dana asked, her voice full of innocence. "I’m just a woman, do you think I could hurt you?" The fear in his eyes answered her question well enough. Without warning she struck, grasping his wrist and lifting his trembling form. She lifted him like that, holding his wrist high above her head until his whole body was dangling from the arm. He writhed, his free arm grasping her arm, trying to prise himself free. He clawed at the hardened block of her swollen forearm, his fingers unable to make purchase. She watched him, amused by his pain. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked with a sigh. Her eyes intensified a little, the sparkle of sadism the only sign of emotion she showed as she squeezed. Arthur began to scream, howling with agony as her grip tightened with merciless ease. A crack was heard, followed by a crumpling pop. Arthur’s wrist fractured and splintered into pieces, Dana’s vicious grip pulping the soft meat of his flesh into the chewed up mangle of bone. Then she simple opened her hand, dropping him back into a whimpering heap. Arthur folded himself over the destroyed hand. He was openly sobbing with the sheer pain of it. Dana watched him without sympathy. She justified this to herself totally. She’d seen the state her sister was in and fully intended to repay him a hundred-fold. She kicked him then, laying her foot into him with as much force as she could muster. She felt his body give beneath the blow, perhaps his ribs. The shock of it smashed him back against the wall. He fell backward against it, bleeding and gasping. "Was that good for you?" she asked him. He didn’t answer her, not fully cognitive at this point. Dana smiled to herself, fully enjoying herself. She crouched down besides him. She reached over and took his undamaged hand into her own, weaving her fingers into his, lifting the hand up to kiss it gently. "Hey honey," she cooed provocatively. "You still with me?" She squeezed a little, tightening his fingers between her own. "Wakey, wakey." Arthur gasped at this, his eyes shooting open. It was not because she’d hurt him but simply due to the threat of it. He tried to pull his hand free but Dana held him trapped with ease, her strength easily outmatching his. "No," she said sternly. "What’s wrong? I thought you enjoyed domestic violence." She released him and threw his hand back to him as if its very touch disgusted her. "You’re a big strong man, is that it?" she demanded, bitterness all too evident in her voice. "Big biceps? Are you a tough guy?" She gave him a slap, though she held back on her strength. Unleashing full fury, her blow could shatter his jaw, maybe even break his neck. She wasn’t ready to end this game yet. "Do you?" she demanded. "Do you have big biceps? Are you a macho man?" He didn’t answer - he was too scared. Having already been subject to what she was capable of inflicting upon him - and worse - what she was all too willing to perform. He knew he was in serious trouble here. She pumped one of her enormous biceps in front of him, the huge mountain of muscle shadowing his face. "That is what a biceps pose should look like," she told him. Arthur shuddered but was unable to take his eyes off of that gigantic mound, so huge and solid. In fact, it was so hard and smooth that it seemed to gleam. With her other hand she then grasped his arm, still keeping her other arm flexed before him. She dug her fingers into the soft flesh around Arthur’s upper arm. "Not like this pastry," she sneered. "See what real muscle should feel like." And she forced him to do so, taking his hand and pressing it against to bulging mass that was her biceps. Arthur did as she bid him, tentatively feeling the solid mass of her muscle. He was shocked, not only by the sheer size of the bulky mountain, but of its consistency - hard as a stainless steel brick and just as smooth. Dana smiled at him again, that cruelty shining through. "You like that?" she asked. "Because I’m going to kill you with it." Arthur froze at this, believing her. She appeared insane enough to prove true to her word, and looking at the massively built physique, she was certainly strong enough. Then she stood and turned her back on him. She walked a few paces down the hallway. Keeping her back to her intended victim she addressed him without looking around. "I offer you this one chance," she stated formally. "Despite the fact that you have never offered the same to my sister. However, I do intend to kill you so I suppose it’s in keeping with fair play. Go into the kitchen, take any weapon you choose." Arthur sat there, shocked by this turn of events. "Choose well," she suggested and then was silent. Arthur stood finally, clumsily fumbling through the door and into the kitchen. He held his ruined wrist against his bruised solar plexus, careful not to touch his chest where the burning pain was slowly increasing. Weapon? He looked around him. Was there anything here that would stop that monster? He regretted not owning a gun. There were kitchen knives of course but that would necessitate getting extremely close to her. That was something he’d prefer to avoid. Blunt instruments? Various hard and heavy objects but the force with which he’d have to wield them was also extreme. He doubted he had the strength to inflict any sort of damage upon her kind of muscle mass and any blows he could throw she would deflect with ease. Then he saw what he was really after - escape. He ran to the back door, fumbling with the key. He didn’t hear Dana come up behind him. The first thing he knew was a pair of powerful hands grasping him by the collar and belt, and then he was airborne. A flex and jerk, and he was held up high, staring at the ceiling. He heard her mocking voice again. "Naughty, naughty," she scolded. "That’s not playing by the rules. If you’re going to cheat I might have to punish you." Then she swung him around, her muscles flexing, and she threw him hard. He flew straight at the floor as she hurled him against it with all her might. There was a crack as he landed, his body folding over itself into a heap. Dana picked a weapon for him, taking a long carving knife from the rack. She turned to Arthur. "Get up," she ordered. Apart from a ragged flop, Arthur didn’t move. "Get up," she repeated testily, "or I’ll..." she stopped a moment as if hesitating. "Well actually, seeing as I’m intending to torture you to death anyway, there’s not a lot I can threaten you with." Arthur apparently tried to get up. His body however, was less than accommodating. Dana turned him over, onto his back. He flopped about like a rag doll. "Oh don’t tell me that was your spine," she spat, annoyed. Arthur seemed to freak out at this, as if realising himself that maybe this was the case. He looked down at his body, wondering why he couldn’t feel it. Both his arms thrashed around but appeared slow and clumsy in their movements. "Let me help," she suggested. Dana lent low over his body. She grasped one of his legs and lifted it straight up. "Can you feel this?" she enquired, her voice actually gentle and tender. "No," Arthur gasped, beginning to really panic now. She hooked the straight leg over her shoulder so she looked down its length, one hand resting gently on the knee. She moved the hand up and down his outer thigh. "What about that?" she asked, still tender. "Nothing," he replied. Dana moved the hand around, further down the leg and more intimately close to his genitals. "And here," she asked, her voice developing a distinctly flirtatious tone. Arthur began to weep again. He felt nothing. "Not even this?" she enquired and struck. His leg was locked and braced against her shoulder. He should have seen it coming. One muscular swipe of her arm folded his leg the wrong way, shattering the kneecap in one stroke. Arthur didn’t flinch - he truly felt nothing. He gasped once she’d done it not sure whether he would have preferred the pain to this numbness. Dana stood and swore, absolutely furious. She kicked him again, right in the kidneys. It was a fatal blow but not immediately so. It would have incapacitated him were he not already helpless and paralysed on the floor. "Fine," she stated bluntly. "I still offer you you’re one chance, though survival is no longer possible for you." She handed him the knife and he took it numbly, shock and horror having blanked his perception once more. She lay over him then, grasped his body and rolled. The motion lay her on her back and pulled Arthur over on top of her. He lay prone, on top this bed of muscular flesh such as the like he’d never conceived of previously. He felt her muscles move with every breath she took, lifting him and lowering him once more. "You’re the fearless killer," she explained, as if to a child. "I’m the helpless victim." Something seemed to click inside Arthur’s head, some switch thrown, and pure hatred overcame him. His fingers clutched around the knife and he raised it, plunging it down into her with all his might. With hypersensitive speed, Dana slipped one arm above her chest, catching his arm by the wrist as he struck. She stopped the blow instantly. Arthur was not to be defeated so easily though. He lent into it, determined to strike. The tip was less than an inch from her breast. Dana smiled at the effort he put into it; he was getting into the game at last. It took very little strength on her part to hold the man at bay. Even were he unharmed she easily out-muscled him. Her arm wavered a little, letting him get closer; she enjoyed the relish and determination that grew on his face. She gave just a little more, the tip of the blade actually touching the fabric of her pure white brassiere. "Almost," she cooed. "You are so close." Arthur grunted with effort, forcing the remainder of his strength into the act. He whined and then screamed but she would not give any more. Finally growing bored, Dana flung him aside like the rag doll he had now become. However, she kept a hold of his wrist, twisting her body around. She placed a knee two inched up the arm from where she gripped him and braced herself. "Now this, I know you can feel," she told him. And then she twisted. A grinding, popping, snapping wet slap. The sound was drowned by screams and Dana was satisfied again. She stood and regarded the broken form before her. Shattered, crushed and paralysed. Dying there on the floor besides her. From what she knew of medicine, she doubted any doctor could save him now. The damage she’d inflicted upon him was too severe. However - that didn’t mean she had finished. She’d promised that it was her biceps that would kill him and she intended to carry through that threat. Dana walked back over to where she had dropped her karate jacket. She pulled her belt free then returned to Arthur, lying flat out, face down. She knelt and tied the belt lightly around his neck. It wasn’t too tight, he could quite easily breathe. She sat on him, as if getting a horse ride, though Arthur was in no state to offer her one. Leaning forward she whispered sweetly into his ear. "Is that comfortable?" she asked. He made no response, his breathing laboured by both the damage she’d inflicted and the agony he was in. "I just wondered is you had any last words to relate," she said. "Maybe something I could pass on to Libby." "Bitch," he murmured. The word was difficult to say for one in his position. Whether this was aimed at herself or her sister Dana couldn’t be sure. She didn’t bother to ask. She reached her thick arm around his neck, as if to strangle him but she didn’t, she was merely finding the right position. Happy, she then slid her mighty arm beneath the tied belt, the flesh of her arm tight against his throat. Careful not to pump her arm she positioned everything correctly. Dana lay above Arthur. Her arm wrapped around his neck and effectively tied to it by the black strap of her karate belt. Her arm was unpumped with the biceps muscle tight against his throat, the belt tight against her triceps. She kissed him lightly. Then she flexed her arm. The belt instantly tightened, the expansion of her mighty biceps restricting the space within the loop. Arthur started choking as her huge muscle cut off his air supply. His face brightened with the obstruction of blood-flow along with the airway. Ruined hands, pawed uselessly at her mighty biceps. But it was a hopeless effort, even at full strength he would have been helpless. In his current state, the fight soon left him. Resigned, his head flopped back, the flesh beginning to turn blue. His lips started to swell, his eyes bulging obscenely. Knowing it was over, Dana finished the job completely. She squeezed hard with a sharp pump and was rewarded with resounding snap. The belt was cutting so deeply into the back of his neck as to be buried in his flesh. Dana stood, pulling his body up with her, lifting her arm to regard that that was attached to it. Arthur’s head lolled back, far further than it should have done, utterly lifeless. She unpumped her arm, slackening the loop sufficiently to remove her mighty arm. Then fiddled with the knot. Dana left the house without looking back, collecting her karate suit jacket as she went.