Simon the Dark Mage
By Martin Kane mksequela@yahoo.co.uk
Simon accidentally summons a muscular female demon and pays the price.



"What is it?"

"First, tell me, are you not impressed? Is this not more than mere 
trinketry, more than drab bric-a-brac?"

"I guess."

"It is utterly unique, utterly unlike any trifling objet d'art, so much 
more than an idle curio or collectable. Is not this piece a thing of 
exquisite, unadulterated beauty?"

"Yeah, it's pretty I suppose. But what is it?"

"Do you see the way in which it captures the Sun's rays? Turn it into 
the light, face it to Sol's formidable countenance. That's it. See there? 
Its very essence seems to glow."

"Actually, that is pretty cool."

"Impressive indeed to behold, but not only that, it is also a test. It's 
how I knew it was genuine. I can't tell you the thrill I felt when I 
realised I really had - in the palm of my very hand - the real thing."

"The real what?"

"You see a normal crystal wouldn't do that. Were it merely a gemstone, 
it would split the light like a prism. You know, like we did in Ms 
Hathershaw's science class. It would cast a rainbow. But this doesn't. 
Its properties have been corrupted by those very energies it was deigned 
originally to hold."

"So what's it made of? It looks like jade?"

"It's like jade but it isn't, this substance is far more rare, but I 
doubt you'd find it in a science book. It's thought to have been formed 
from regular nephrite by ancient magicians, formed for one purpose, and 
one purpose alone."

"Which was...?"

"To act as receptacle for the capture and containment of spiritual 
energy."

"Hmm. It looks like a bird."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah but the details are very worn. Is it an eagle?"

"They should be worn. It's nearly three thousand years old."

This at last provoked a response from the deliberately impassive Richard. 
He looked up from the green stone ornament in his hand. "Fuck off!"

Simon cleared his throat. Richard sighed and sat back to listen.

"Many years ago, a Taoist monk battled an ancient and evil sect who were 
hell bent on ultimate domination of feudal China through the use of dark 
magics. They had crafted an artefact of such maliciousness and evil, so 
tainted that they themselves could not control it. The monk manipulated 
them into foolhardiness, making them use their evil artefact before the 
time was right and such was their lust for power they fell victim to 
their own... foolhardiness, and it was to be their undoing."

Richard rolled his eyes. He tried to resist a derisive comment and 
almost succeeded. "Skip to the end."

"The evil sect were defeated, their evil artefact destroyed, but the 
twenty crystals which channelled the energies into the artefact survived 
and were scattered to the four winds. Some exist in museums, some in 
private collections. But today, less than half are accounted for.

"For many years, philosophers, mages, spiritualists and dark alchemists 
have scoured the globe for the remaining crystals. This is one of them."

Richard nodded, marginally impressed. "Where did you get it?"

"ebay."

Richard had known Simon since they were both young. He was a bit 
pretentious these days, maybe having taken the whole chaos magik thing a 
bit too far. Changing his name to 'Symeon' didn't help, especially at 
school where they were ripe for abuse at the best of times already, 
without giving their enemies extra ammo. People like Terry Bradley and 
his merry band of delinquents. For his part, Simon seemed immune to such 
spite and had a tendency to look down at the vast majority of his peers 
anyway.

But that said, he did know his stuff and Richard had seen him, on the 
rare occasion, do incredible things. He'd seen him summon a ball of fire 
and catch it in his hands. Actually, on that particular occasion, Simon 
had been as freaked out as Richard, not expecting the spell to actually 
work. There was as a consequence, still a burnt patch on Richard's 
bedroom carpet that was going to take some explaining (should his mother 
ever insist that he move his desk back to a more sensible position, 
rather than in the centre of the room where Richard nowadays insisted, 
just as adamantly, that he preferred it.)

On another occasion Simon had turned an entire classroom into a buzzing 
hive of static electricity. Everyone's hair on end, screaming and 
yelling, chaos abound as the other kids quickly learned they were 
suddenly able to shock one another at the touch of a finger to flesh, 
and immediately proceeded to do so.

The freaked out teacher, a young and pretty Ms Hathershaw, had struggled 
to reign in control even while her delicate summer clothes sucked 
themselves against her flesh, her skirt crawling its way up her thighs. 
(They had been young and innocent, but not so young and innocent that 
they didn't take especial notice of that little detail.)

A freak summer storm was credited as the cause and the next science 
lesson rapidly rewritten to explain the phenomenon, but there were a 
select few who knew it had been Simon's doing. And he still had the 
ability to summon enough static at his fingertip to give you a sharp, 
crackling reminder, lest anyone forget.

But it was kids stuff really. Nothing dark or sinister. In fact he'd 
even finally been persuaded to teach Richard the static trick and 
Richard had found it very useful, particularly in later life. In years 
to come it became his party piece as he'd discovered that there's 
nothing like being able to shock a girl to spark her interest.

The problem with Simon was that as his knowledge and admittedly his 
skill too had increased over the years, he seemed to think he was some 
sort of dark lord of the underworld and Richard had to remind the boy 
from time to time that he'd first become interested in the occult 
through Harry Potter novels. 

But this piece, jade or otherwise, genuinely had history to it. Richard 
could tell that just by holding it, he could almost feel its energy as 
it sat innocuously in the palm of his hand.

"Come on," said Simon. "We're gonna need supplies."





By supplies Simon meant hyll-sand, powdered gellia and a fresh candle 
pre-permeated with incense. Tools such as mirrors, rune stones, a 
krollin chalice, sacrificial dagger, bones, and all the other odd 
accoutrements Simon had collected over the years, were stuffed into his 
rucksack along with his hand-written grimoire, a work in progress that 
detailed all the spells and skills he had learnt so far.

They went to an out of the way shop Simon knew, one Richard had never 
even heard of before. It was a kind of new-age hippy gift-shop, as he 
would have classified it, but Simon told him they stocked everything 
that they would need.

The whole project suddenly started to look far more appealing as soon as 
Richard saw the woman behind the counter. She was young, probably only a 
couple of years older than he and Simon were, if that. She had pale 
blonde hair, wispy and loose about her shoulders. It was hard to ignore 
her breasts - hard not to stare at them. Large and shapely but without 
being cumbersome or suffering any sagging. Her cotton blouse flattered 
her figure unabashedly, despite being light and flowing with lots of 
puffy ridges. The top few buttons were undone and as such, her bright, 
white support bra was exposed to prying eyes whenever she leaned forward, 
as she was doing now, engrossed as she was in her paperback.

She looked up as the two boys approached the counter. Ruby lips, faintly 
glittered, parted into a warm and open smile, as though to see them here 
was a genuine delight.

She turned the book over and placed it face down on the counter to hold 
her place, putting excessive pressure on the spine to ensure it stayed. 
Given the book's ragged condition, it was clearly used to such treatment. 
Richard noticed with pleasant surprise that it was a grotesquely violent 
horror novel, unapologetic pulp, and by his favourite author. He also 
noticed her fingernails - rainbow bright like jellybeans and glittery 
like her lips.

The young woman had an odd fey charm about her, even without her 
voluptuous figure, which he realised now was actually slimmer than he'd 
first thought. Perhaps it was the contrast that gave her prominent 
breasts that much more emphasis. Her choice of clothing was a little odd 
and doubtless considered to be unfashionable by that gullible sector of 
the community that bought into such propaganda but to Richard's eyes it 
was bright and pretty nonetheless. 

"Hello boys," she greeted pleasantly. "What can I get for you?"

Simon grinned back at the woman, as blissfully confident with her as he 
was with every other human being - the man knew no self-doubt whatsoever, 
not even a healthy amount, and probably couldn't even understand the 
concept.

"Wow, either you're using an enchantment spell on me right now or you 
really are the most beautiful woman in the world."

She giggled flirtatiously. "Well I can see you don't need any charm 
spells."

"Oh you think I'm just spinning a line. OK, yeah, I am spinning you a 
line. It just so happens to also be true."

"Well thank you, it's very sweet of you to say so."

"Me and my friend here would both like to thank you for bringing so much 
light and joy into our lives by blessing us with the radiance of your 
smile."

Richard wasn't sure whether he was expected to contribute anything here, 
especially as mention of him caused the woman's eyes to flit over to him. 
He compromised by blushing profusely and dropping his gaze in 
embarrassment. He realised just a split second too late that this could 
be misconstrued as a glance at her magnanimous cleavage, still semi-
visible within the loose cotton folds of her blouse. He blushed even 
deeper.

The woman returned her focus to Simon.

"So what can I get for you boys?" she asked.

The type of candle Simon needed was common for all manner of spells, not 
to mention a pleasant scented candle in its own right. They were sold in 
packs of four in a tray besides the till. He picked up a few packs, 
might as well restock. Then he asked, as innocuously as he could, for 
the hyll-sand.

The woman didn't react to that, though it was clear by the request that 
this was a spell he was casting, and one with specific ingredients. What 
it meant was that Simon wasn't just a random shopper looking for kooky 
ornaments or unusual gifts. It meant that Simon knew what purpose this 
shop really served, who its real customer base was - people like him.

She reached beneath the counter, leaning down and giving them both 
another generous view down her top, her large, white-cupped breasts 
looking magnificent.

The boys caught each other's gaze. Simon made squeezy motions with his 
hands and pulled a kissy expression. Richard grinned, though still felt 
his cheeks burning with furious colour.

"We only have the ground variety I'm afraid," she said, rising and 
offering Simon what looked like a glass salt-shaker, right down to the 
fine white powder within.

"That's fine," he assured her. Then his voice became a little more 
apprehensive, despite himself. "And some powdered gellia."

This time she stopped dead. Her face made a slight twitch, a coy little 
tick that was half smile and half surprise. 

"Just what kind of spell are you casting?" she asked him. The fun 
flirtation was suddenly gone, replaced by something that was part 
curiosity and party nannyish concern.

"It's not as serious as it sounds," Simon assured her, his confident 
ease back once more. "Just trying to enchant a talisman. I'm using some 
gemstones to infuse it with psychic energy."

She didn't seem quite convinced by this but was willing to accept it on 
face value. "OK," she said doubtfully, "Just as long as you're careful. 
But if you accidentally summon a demon who rips your arms and legs off, 
don't come running back here for a refund."

Richard figured that she was mostly reassured by the fact that Simon 
probably wasn't even capable of doing anything dangerous. It took a 
reasonable amount of power to perform any manner of casting and Richard 
was fairly certain that tonight would be yet another bust. It was 
Simon's incompetence that would keep them safe from harm.

The woman turned her back on them and bent down low to get at a cupboard 
against the far wall. She began rummaging within it. 

She was wearing a fairly tight skirt and the gesture Simon made to 
Richard suggested that he was particularly taken with the woman's 
impressive buttocks, round and tight, now impressed through the taut 
material.

Pleasing as this was, Richard was more taken by her legs. The semi 
crouch had made her calves pop into hard relief. They were shapely but 
more than that, they were of a size and density that truly surprised him. 
He had no inkling that this woman might possess legs of such hard 
development. Either she was an Olympic runner in her spare time or she 
hit the weights machines with some serious gusto. 

He was shocked that this airy, girly, young thing - sweet and prettily 
sexy as she admittedly was - would actually turn out to be such a 
stunning hardbody. In truth he wasn't really a leg man but he liked 
muscles. And muscular legs tended to belong to muscular women.

When she stood up again, Richard regarded her figure more scrupulously. 
Her outline was concealed beneath the loose flow of her clothing. The 
odd top had billowy ruffles about the shoulders and down the sleeves 
which reached her elbows. It disguised any potential athleticism of her 
frame but now that he came to look more closely, Richard thought that 
the shoulders could well have a shapely muscularity to them.

Her forearms were bare and he saw that they had a powerful taper to them 
- a level of development that was well in keeping with her muscle-bound 
calves. It was so frustrating when muscular women dressed in a manner to 
deliberately disguise their astonishing achievements. 

"Wait, one more thing," she said, and her voice held a serious tone. She 
pulled a business card out of the breast pocket of her blouse and handed 
it to Simon. "Take my card," she insisted, as though this were a 
standard offer, made to all customers.

"OK, thanks," Simon said glancing down. The card had her name as well as 
the shop address and number. Written beneath in biro was a mobile number 
too. "...Laura."

"I'm a practitioner too," she told him. "You need any specialist 
ingredients or anything."

Simon smiled and nodded, understanding. He thanked her again and they 
left the shop. Simon showed Richard the card as though he'd just asked a 
girl at a party for her number. He pressed the business card against his 
cheek. "It's still warm!" he declared, giggling.





It was later that night that they headed to the Rec. Neither one knew 
why it was called the Rec, and had never thought to wonder, it was just 
what everybody called it. A large area of waste ground where kids ran 
riot, dogs were taken for walkies and drunken teenagers caused trouble 
at night. There was an unkempt area at the back, vicious overgrowth that 
got hacked into tiny clearings by young boys making camps. This was 
where Simon led his friend and Richard couldn't help feeling that this 
was regressing back to childhood somewhat. If any of their schoolfriends 
(or worse) saw them here, they would immediately assume this was some 
childish game, like the eight-year-old explorers they once were. And in 
a kind of way, that was true. What was this, if not an exciting 
adventure? 

It was dark now, and Richard hoped the Rec would be quiet tonight. He 
wasn't exactly embarrassed by his friend's fascination with magic, but 
would still rather they didn't have to explain themselves to a gang of 
drunken teenage thugs. Casting spells just didn't have the kind of 
street-cred that got you respect around the school.

Simon piled thirteen small sticks into a complexly patterned cone, a 
kind of mini bonfire. He encircled the base with specific rune-stones 
and sprinkled a little sand over the whole.

He ripped open a pack of candles and took one out. It was short and 
stubby, a little like a scented tea-light but taller. He placed it 
nearby, within handy reach, but far enough from the tiny wood-stack that 
it wouldn't interfere with the spell. He lit the candle with the tip of 
his finger, cocking his hand as though it was a gun. He blew it 
afterwards, winking smugly.

OK, so maybe no street-cred was involved, but Richard had to admit, 
Simon could be kinda cool.

"Simon," Richard began, his voice a little nervous, "you know that 
shopgirl?"

"The one with the big boobs?"

"Yes."

"And the nice arse."

"Yeah her. What did she mean about summoning demons?"

"She was just joking."

"Sure. But she did seem kinda concerned. How dangerous is this?"

"What's dangerous? It's all relative. Crossing a road is dangerous."

"Yeah? See, that just sounds evasive to me. What's a road? There are 
country lanes and then there are motorways. Is this dangerous?"

"Na."

"Fine," Richard muttered. "If I get killed tonight, I'm never going to 
speak to you again."

A thin wire stand was propped over the candle, suspending the chalice 
and the dagger high above it, within its cleansing aura. If he squinted, 
Richard could swear he could actually see the streaming lines of energy 
flow from the candle and smother the tools in a bathing wash of power.

From a small sandwich bag, Simon removed a lump of what looked like 
dough. He rolled it between his palms, squeezing it like putty. He began 
adding some of the powdered gellia, continuing all the while to 
manipulate it. He held the lump above the candle for a few seconds then 
rolled it about some more, adding the powder by degree.

When he was satisfied he put the dough onto the top of his tiny wooden 
pyre. He then took the ancient jade eagle and pressed it into the dough. 
Satisfied, he sat back and regarded his work.

"Excellent," he said, clearly very pleased with himself. "We're just 
about ready to begin."

"Oh, OK," Richard said, not having realised that they hadn't already 
begun. 

Simon grinned. "This is just the preamble," he said. "Is that chalice 
hot?"

Richard waved his hand above the intricately patterned metal goblet. He 
immediately pulled his hand back, swearing in surprise. Contrary to his 
expectation, the heat radiating from the cup had been incredible. He 
would never have suspected the thin candle capable of producing such 
heat. He was glad he hadn't checked by touching it. If he had, he'd have 
likely lost some skin.

"Yes!"

"Great. Pour the rest of the sand in, let me know when it melts."

"When it what?"

"It'll turn into a liquid."

Richard shrugged and poured the sand into the chalice. Melt? It didn't 
seem likely. The chalice was hot but not that hot. However, the sand 
quickly began to shift and bubble, the grit beginning to melt as though 
it were nothing more than powered ice.

"Shit!"

"OK," let's get this going then.

He curved his hands around the small wooden cone. His face focused and 
the structure instantly combusted as a whole, every stick simultaneously 
igniting.

The dough didn't catch alight but the artefact nestled within it quickly 
began to glow with a soft green luminescence.

Simon began uttering guttural phrases of what could have been Latin, 
Samarian or Klingon for all Richard knew, a harsh litany of rough and 
brutal sounds.

He didn't know whether it was the spell or just the incense, but Richard 
felt his head begin to go swimmy.

A not unpleasant haze descended upon his senses, the firelight dreamy 
and drifting away. He was reminded of the one time he'd tried getting 
stoned, that same mellowness that had infused his being, right before 
his system had rebelled and he'd been violently sick.

With serene detachment from his surroundings, he began to be taken by 
the distant flame, that one spot alone consuming his attention. His body 
shivered pleasantly as he lay back, somehow still able to see the fire, 
its warm glow enveloping him.

Suddenly he found himself thinking about the shopgirl from earlier. 
Laura, the delicious young woman who had so taken his fancy. Fondness 
and lust combined in his recollection, her inherent sweetness conveyed 
in her smile, even as, in his mind's eye, she stripped off her shirt, 
showing him the truly stunning body beneath. He could actually see her 
now, just as clearly as though the information came from his eyes. She 
was stepping towards him, out of the flames. Naked, she flexed, and 
though he had no way of knowing whether his suspicions about her 
physique were true or just the product of wishful fantasy, the woman he 
now saw had muscles.

Hard round biceps and soft round breasts, like some ancient primitive 
goddess combining all qualities in one luscious form, sweet innocence 
and carnal excess, feminine sensuality and masculine aggression. 

Just a fantasy of course - nothing deeper or more significant than that. 
The mammoth size of the biceps the girl before him was pumping suggested 
that it was just his subconscious playing teasing wish-fulfilment games 
with his senses. Body-built the shopgirl may well be, who knew, but it 
was highly unlikely her arms were as massive as this glorious vision, 
else she'd be infamous the world and the internet over. 

Slowly he realised there was more to what was happening. With a growing 
sense of apprehension he became certain that there was something wrong 
about all this - something jaded. Despite his delight at the intensely 
erotic image, the association with the shopgirl was somehow wrong. It 
was a glamour, he realised, a mask. As though his fantasies were being 
utilised to disguise something else - something... other.

He was being distracted by the body and it was hardly surprising that he 
should be, but beyond breasts and biceps, the similarity to his desires 
ended. This woman might have the visage of a goddess, but he sensed the 
taint beneath, the ugliness of malevolent corruption. Despite his lust 
for the woman, no matter how drawn he was to the purity of her 
extraordinary beauty, he could not escape the certainty within his heart, 
that she was, in actuality the personification of evil.

And in some other reality he became aware of Simon, taking the chalice 
and pouring sand over the flames. The roar of the fire bursting with 
potent energy. Simon lifted the dagger high.

Richard cried out a warning, knowing now that there was genuine danger 
here. But it was too late. Even as the words left his lips, Simon 
plunged the dagger down, spearing the jade stone.

There was an explosion of light.

And then darkness.

"So... What happens now?" Richard asked.

The image of the muscle-babe had gone, although he still had a raging 
erection. In the darkness he surreptitiously checked his pants, not 
certain whether or not he'd ejaculated. He hadn't.

"Well, that was it," Simon said, a little bit confused.

He pulled out his spellbook and read through the notes he had made, 
peering at the pages in the poor light.

"What was supposed to happen?"

"It was supposed to unleash all the energy contained within."

"Was that the light? Light's energy, isn't it."

"No," Simon said. "I mean yes, it is, but the energy in this thing was 
supposed to be astronomical."

"What, like a bomb?"

"No. I dunno. It's just a way of transferring power from one thing to 
another."

"To what?"

"Well, you know, just release it."

"Do you have any idea what you're actually doing?"

Simon didn't answer that, instead he asked, "Did you see anything when 
the light exploded?"

Richard suspected he was just trying to change the subject. "Yeah. A 
real bright light."

"You didn't see anything else?"

"No," Richard said. The image of the shopgirl had just been his 
imagination, it's not as if he actually saw her, was it? Not like she 
was actually there. "Like what?"

"Like... a person?"

"What?"

"Probably nothing. I just thought I saw a shape within the light."

Their eyes had begun to get used to the poor light again after the 
blinding flash. Richard scrutinised his friend.

"What sort of person?" he demanded.

"A seriously busty sort of person."

"Simon, did we summon a demon?"

"No. She didn't look like a demon. More like..."

"More like what?" Richard insisted. This whole situation was seriously 
beginning to jar his nerves.

"I only saw an outline."

"And?"

In the dim light he saw Simon lick his lips lustily and then draw an 
hour-glass figure with his hands. Richard smiled, despite his confusion 
and shock.

They heard a noise then and spun about. Richard actually let out a yell 
of fear and surprise.

The person standing there was neither demon nor female. 

"What are you two girls doing?" Terry Bradley demanded.

Richard swore. Of all the people the flash could have attracted, it had 
to be him. He would have preferred to see a demon.

Terry had his usual three cohorts with him. Together, the four of them 
were an ungainly bunch of unruly thugs. Large, violent and frighteningly 
stupid. As Simon was fond of saying, 'the reason they don't like us is 
because they're too thick to know we're better than them.'

Richard suspected that they didn't actually like anyone, but 
specifically focused on himself and Simon because they made for easy 
targets. Classic bully mentality, go for the easy option.

"Oh it's you," Simon said, dismissively. Incredibly there was actually 
relief in his voice. "We thought you were someone else."

Simon had the bizarre habit of treating Terry Bradley like he was a 
normal person and not like the dangerous pitball he actually was. He 
didn't seem to hear the insults and jibes that the larger youth spewed, 
waving them off as though they were beneath him. And, he didn't seem to 
notice how this attitude only succeeded in infuriating Terry and that to 
continue to push him would only result in sending an already dangerous 
personality into overdrive. One of these days, the situation was going 
to get out of hand and Simon was going to get the two of them seriously 
beaten up. Richard had the horrible feeling that that day may well have 
arrived.

"Who? Your boyfriend's already here?"

There was a snickering of laughter from the other three.

"No one you'd know," Simon said. But he was distracted, glancing 
nervously around the darkened area.

Terry Bradley tried another track, not liking the fact that he didn't 
have Simon's full attention. It suggested a disconcerting lack of fear 
on his victim's part, which he was used to commanding absolutely. "Are 
you two playing with fireworks?" he demanded. "Show us what you've got."

"Did you see anyone else here?" Simon asked him, ignoring the question. 
His tone was sincere, he genuinely wanted to know.

Terry strode forward. "Enough pissing about, show us what you've got 
back there." He pushed Simon out the way to examine the tiny campfire 
and the rucksack.

"Don't touch that," Simon told him, his voice a frightened plea of 
genuine warning.

"And what are you going to do to stop me?" Terry demanded, turning 
suddenly back to Simon. This was more like it, more like the script he 
was familiar with.

Richard hadn't moved to help his friend but suddenly found himself 
grabbed on both sides by two of the other thugs. One would have been 
more than enough; all the youths were larger and stronger than him and 
all were far more used to violence and intimidation. He put up no 
resistance, knowing it would be hopeless to try and struggle against 
them.

The forth just stood back and watched, laughing as Terry grabbed Simon 
by the throat, one meaty hand closing so tight that the smaller boy 
suddenly had trouble standing, let alone breathing.

"Get off me," Simon gasped, clawing at the hand holding him. He managed 
to dig his fingers beneath Terry's grip and prise the hand open. He 
wrenched the fingers away, twisting the thumb back harshly and making 
Terry hiss in pained surprise.

Staggering back, Simon, tended his neck, the rough redness apparent even 
in this dim light. His voice however was more pissed off than scared of 
the thug.

"Jesus, what are you doing?" he snapped testily, as though it was 
totally out of character for Terry to behave in such a way. He rubbed 
his throat. "Honestly!"

Terry was as bemused by Simon as ever, not sure how to follow up. He 
wanted to reassert his authority but Simon kept throwing him off balance 
simply by not realising he was being bullied. Terry focused his 
attention on the fireworks instead. "What is this?" He appeared 
genuinely curious. There were rumours enough about Simon and he couldn't 
help but wonder how much truth there was in them. He took in the 
equipment laid out, the dwindling remains of the fire and candle. Then 
he laughed.

"What is it?" the forth thug asked, the one not holding Richard. The 
other two also twisted around to see, pulling their captive along with 
them.

"Harry Potter's been playing spells," Terry laughed. "I knew you were a 
loser, but this is really sad, even for you."

"Watch out Terry," one of the thugs holding Richard warned. "He'll turn 
you into a frog."

More laughter. The fourth thug added, "yeah or start playing with his 
magic wand." He laughed uproariously. Then added, "you know - his magic 
wand," in case anyone hadn't got the joke, and he laughed again.

"Actually," Simon said, totally deadpan, "we summoned a demon."

Richard was surprised by this statement, despite the more pressing issue 
of their current predicament. Right before the bullies had turned up 
Simon seemed unsure of what the results of their spell might actually be. 
Right now, he delivered this statement with a curiously stilted 
casualness, one that made Richard feel very uneasy - far more uneasy the 
four thugs made him.

"What sort of demon?" the forth thug sneered back at Simon.

Simon shrugged, laughing in a slightly nervous, slightly unbalanced kind 
of way. "I don't know," he admitted. "Why don't you ask her?"

The thug would never understand this punchline. Not because he was a 
little slow when it came to matters of wit, but because the first thing 
he knew about the demon standing behind him is when she punched a hole 
through his chest. 

Her fist rammed right through, ripping in between his shoulder blades 
and erupting through his ribcage like the Alien from Richard's favourite 
movie. 

Richard and the two thugs holding him were all spattered in a thick 
spray of blood. He was released from their hold but stayed stock still 
anyway, frozen to the spot, as too were they. Terry and Simon were 
further away and escaped getting blooded by the exploding gore but they 
were also in a trance, shocked into paralyzed immobility.

The woman stood still, keeping her muscular arm aloft - the very dead 
thug still suspended helpless from it. The hole through his chest leaked 
lumps of bloody viscera, strings of stuff that was supposed to remain 
inside the boy's body slowly slid out. 

Very slowly, the muscle-bound woman grasped the corpse and lifted him 
away, withdrawing her thickly stained limb. She tossed the boy aside and 
regarded the shocked quintet who watched her, still rooted to the spot 
with abject terror.

The demon was abominably large. She stood at a mere five foot four at 
the very most, but her muscles were of such a size and development that 
it made you immediately assume there was something supernatural about 
her - steroid abuse, no matter how extensive, simply would not be 
sufficient to produce a body of her tremendous magnitude.

Her shoulders were huge and round, so broad as to make any Olympic 
sports hero pale in comparison. Her chest mighty and massive, supporting 
breasts of a size unnatural to bodybuilders - unnatural to all women in 
fact, as the only women who could ever boast such a bosom were the most 
extreme of silicone addicts. But they were still proportional to her 
tremendous muscle mass, abnormally large though they were, they 
complimented the sheer broad scale of her torso, high and protuberant, 
jutting straight out in unabashed glory.

Her belly was a bed of abdominal muscles, looking like neat rows of 
cannonballs beneath her flesh, cascading with ominous density as she 
breathed. Beneath that, her legs flared out, thighs so mighty as to 
rival beasts for sheer brute power. She looked as though she could break 
the wildest of warhorses riding bareback with just a twitch of her 
muscles, ride the most manic stallion to victory across the plains of 
ancient China.

Her oriental features, though possessing the crafted beauty of a model's 
perfection, lacked the kind of warmth or prettiness that the simplest of 
genuine smiles might have bestowed. Black hair flowed wildly, billowing 
about her despite the absence of wind - as though it was itself writhing, 
every inch of her so laden with potent power that even the strands of 
her hair bucked manically.

The costume this demon wore looked like it had been designed by someone 
attempting to combine ancient ceremonial armour with a standard two-
piece bikini. The outsides of her breasts were clasped by elaborate 
swoops of gleaming, jewelled armour, closing to a point to meet between 
them with an intricate metal knot. Her left bicep wore a thin encircling 
ornament like a rope of metal, a small snake wrapping itself twice 
around that mighty circumference.

Her modesty was kept intact by an elaborate series of tiny plates as 
though a thong had been constructed of metal fish-scales.

Aside from that she was unadorned. In total, it was barely enough to set 
off a metal detector. An outfit that did nothing to conceal the 
excessive degree of muscle she possessed. If she walked out on stage 
looking as she did here and now, she would doubtless receive a standing 
ovation.

"Who dares summon Chyou?" the woman demanded in perfect, if accented 
English.

"It was him," Terry said quickly, pointing at Simon.

As if the spell was suddenly broken, the two thugs who had been holding 
Richard each decided simultaneously to make a run for it and they turned 
to flee.

The demon Chyou was unnaturally fast however. She turned at the sudden 
motion, like a beast attracted by fleeing prey. With a flex of mighty 
thighs, she was airborne, springing directly towards the two runners.

She streaked passed Richard in a blur and he almost collapsed in fear. 
Then there was a heavy thug as both boys were brought down in one heavy 
pounce.

The three remaining witnesses saw what followed only in dim silhouette 
and were grateful for that lack of clarity. Even so, it was a sight they 
would each be unable to ever forget.

The muscle bound woman was astride her fallen foes. They were both face 
down on the ground with Chyou on top of then, one knee against each 
man's back. She lent forward then to wrap those obscenely powerful arms 
about their helpless throats.

The sound of their pained screams was cut short by a more sickening and 
more surreal sound, that of tearing and crunching. It sounded like 
someone was ripping apart a Sunday roast with their bare hands.

Chyou strode back to the horrified few who were left. She was holding a 
head cupped in each hand. Richard's shock-addled brain could not help 
but take note that her breasts were as large as the heads, and 
furthermore, that with her arms bent, her biceps were flexed making them 
as large as her breasts.

Something must have been misfiring in his brain, some overloaded circuit 
unable to process the horror of his current predicament. Despite the 
terror he felt, the erotic appeal of this ultra-woman, had given him 
back his helpless erection.

He was closest to the demon. She looked up, tossing the two severed 
heads carelessly aside. Her eyes locked onto Richard's and she stopped 
before him.

Though he was taller than the woman her physical dominance was in no 
doubt. She looked him up and down, assessing him with curiosity. Richard 
was rooted to the spot in stark terror. After seeing what she'd just 
done to three of his peers in a matter of moments, witnessing the savage 
extreme of violence she was capable of on the merest whim, he dared not 
even breathe.

Chyou pressed her open palm to the huge bulge in his jeans and gently 
squeezed his erection. She moved her hand down the shaft and cupped his 
testicles. Richard had never remained so still in his life. Seeing the 
enormous muscles in her arm, the tension of tendons and veins beneath 
her flesh when she moved, he had little doubt what would happen should 
she choose to squeeze.

Her other hand reached for his chest, placing a palm flat against him, 
her eyes closing as though she were feeling for something, like she was 
trying to sense vibrations against a wall.

And it was then that Richard fainted. He had never fainted before in his 
life, let alone three times in a row. This first time his vision went 
black, though it was hard to tell in the poor light, and he just 
collapsed, falling backwards, away from the demon. 

He came to again fairly quickly, he assumed. He perceived no sense of 
lost time and the situation had barely changed when he opened his eyes 
again. He was still at the Rec at night with Terry Bradley and Simon and 
a muscle bound demon named Chyou who they'd inadvertently summoned and 
was now quite possibly going to kill them all, just as she had the three 
others, whose steaming carcasses still bled into the grass less than a 
stone's throw from here.

The demon woman had now moved on to Terry however, and was apparently 
assessing him in much the same way she had just done to Richard. One 
hand was cupping his genitals, the other pressed flat against his chest. 
Terry's chest was of course a lot broader and more muscular than his, 
though even he was in turn dwarfed by the mighty woman. And Richard also 
guessed that Terry wasn't sporting a huge erection. 

Terry looked truly terrified, frozen in fear. It was odd to see such a 
despised figure reduced so. And not nearly as gratifying as he would 
have thought.

Whatever it was that the demon sensed in Terry Bradley it wasn't to her 
liking. She broke the contact and then grabbed him. Terry's frozen 
trance was suddenly broken as one of the woman's hands clutched savagely 
at his groin, the other his throat. She swung her massive arms up, 
easily heaving the taller man above her head.

The grip on his balls looked savage and painful, but what she did to him 
next cast that into obscurity. With one hand at either end of his spine, 
she began twisting and mangling his body, snapping him as easily as one 
would break a piece of kindling. Terry's screams didn't last long as she 
roughly broke his body, wringing him around like a drenched towel. She 
gave his broken form one last fold for good measure, sounding a rolling 
crunch, then tossed him away without regard.

Then she focused her attention on the last man standing - Simon. Richard 
didn't know how his friend reacted to this however because that was when 
he fainted away for the second time in his life.

Again, the blackout was brief. He missed the demon woman's assessment of 
Simon, but gathered that she was finally satisfied this time because 
when he came around he saw her nod decisively. She reached up and took 
Simon's head in her hand and gave his whole body a short but violent 
little judder, shaking him to the bone.

Richard collapsed, immediately out cold. It must have been what the 
woman was expecting because she caught him without pause, sweeping him 
up into her powerful arms as a mother would a child.

Without turning back, the demon woman carried off her prize, 
disappearing into the darkness. Richard fainted away once more.





This time he had no notion of how much time he had been out. It could 
have been seconds or minutes or even hours. When he woke it was still 
dark, still night. He and the corpses were still alone - the savage 
scene apparently not yet discovered. Richard wondered what the police 
would make of it all. How would he explain it? What would happen? How 
had he been allowed to live? What about Richard? Where was he now? And 
what was the monster woman doing to him?

He began to feel woozy again as his panic rose, but he took a deep 
breath and managed to remain conscious. He had had an idea and whether 
or not it was a good idea didn't matter. It was a plan - a course of 
action that he could take. It was something solid to hold onto and it 
would allow him to continue functioning.

He went to Simon's rucksack and began rummaging through the pockets. He 
hoped his friend hadn't kept the card on his person. He found a small 
notebook, held closed with an elastic band. Inside was all manner of 
leaflets, cards, clippings, scraps and notes. The business-card that the 
shopgirl had given Simon was among them, looking new and fresh compared 
to most of the other tatty scraps. Laura. The shop's details. And then 
in biro her mobile number.

There was a phone box on the road at the front of the Rec and Richard 
headed straight for it. He took the rucksack with him but left all the 
gear that Simon had used, feeling an odd superstition about touching any 
of it. Considering what had just happened it was probably a wise 
precaution.

At the phonebox he shoved the coins in, dialled the number. He was 
surprised when the phone immediately picked up, he'd been certain it 
would go to an answer-phone. Laura's voice was clear and alert. She had 
already been awake.

"My name's Richard, you served me and my friend in the shop today," he 
began. In truth, he didn't know what he was going to say to her next, 
how was he going to explain? And what would she be able to do anyway?

"You stupid little cunt!" she hissed down the phone. At first, he 
thought her anger was at being woken so late, but there was an edge of 
panic to her voice too. Besides, from the background noise, it sounded 
like she was outside. "I knew it, I fucking knew it! As soon as those 
ionic fields reared up, I just knew it."

Richard couldn't quite process what she was saying, his brain had 
already endured too much and seemed to be working in a limited capacity 
as if parts of his mind had shut down, unable to cope. It was a self-
preservation system kicking in - short-term shock being preferable to 
permanent madness.

"You released something, didn't you?" Laura demanded.

"It took him," Richard managed to stutter out.

"Where are you?"

"The Rec. The phonebox."

"Stay there," she ordered. "Don't move. Don't even leave the fucking 
phonebox. I'm close by, I'll be there in a minute."

Richard hung up the phone. He stared out at the blackness of the field - 
the horrors that were out there somewhere. Richard crouched and hugged 
his knees to his chest. He put his head on his arms and began to shiver. 
Despite the warm night, his body shook and quaked as though he were 
stranded naked on an open glacial plane, icy wind cutting through him.

Though he remained conscious, a little part of his mind retreated. Some 
essential cog in the normal mental processes took a rest, leaving him in 
a senseless panic. His mind locked into a closed loop, unable to break 
free. He didn't even try to pull himself together. He just sat there, 
shivering, waiting.





When Laura found him, her anger abated a little. He was obviously deeply 
traumatised. She sighed and knelt besides the boy. She tenderly lifted 
his head up. The eyes were wide and staring though she doubted that he 
was even aware of her crouching besides him.

Leaning towards him, she pressed her lips against his and kissed him. It 
began sweetly enough, soft and so very gentle, but then her fervour 
increased. Her mouth pushed his open, her tongue reaching into him, the 
kiss joining them.

And somewhere inside his head Richard felt the weight subside. He felt 
fear dissolve. Horrors faded, his head slowly releasing the panic that 
pounded him insensible. Madness retreated, its poisonous claws loosening 
about his heart. His body returned to itself.

He only realised he was being kissed as the lips and tongue withdrew. 
The sudden loss made his soul sob, not wanting to be parted from 
something so sensual and soft.

As first kisses go, it was pretty spectacular, tinged with magic as it 
was, and Richard was sorry to have missed it.

There were other ways to deliver trunking-spells and their various 
derivatives but Laura was most practised with this method. There was one 
variant in particular, the orgasm trunking-spell, which was amongst her 
very favourites (not to mention the favourite of those close friends and 
lovers she habitually performed it upon) and it was natural to use a 
kiss for its delivery.

This particular trunking-spell may well have been less rapturous and 
explosive in its effect, but there was still the need for a bridge of 
some sort to apply it. There were other, less intimate ways to 
administer the particular execution of mental and emotional influences 
but she didn't think Richard would mind the intrusion. 

Leaning forward, putting her lips above his ear, whispering as softly as 
she could. "Richard? Are you awake?"

Richard opened his eyes and was confronted with the glorious sight of 
two massive breasts inches from his face. They were clad in the bright 
white brassier he recognised from earlier that day. If he lent forward 
his head would plunge between them.

Somehow, she had sensed his response. "I'll take that as a 'yes', shall 
I," she remarked dryly, standing. "Can you stand up?"

Awkwardly, Richard managed to find his feet.

He found that his head was suddenly clearer, his thoughts much sharper. 
He didn't know what she had done to him, but it seemed to have removed 
his fear and horror at all that had happened.

An arm slid around him and helped him onto his feet. Despite the soft 
round breast that she allowed to press firmly against the side of his 
ribcage as she supported him, the thing about this physical contact that 
truly thrilled him was the stunningly sturdy musculature of her arm 
about him. Her arm was warm and inviting, but there must have been steel 
nestled within the flesh. The limb bulged with a bulky strength that was 
shocking even given his suspicions of her physical makeup.

Richard was half lifted, her body unfeasibly strong, feeling totally 
solid beneath her clothes as he leaned against her. Tentatively his feet 
began to take his own weight as she carefully released him.

"Jesus, you're strong," he declared.

"And you're chronically stupid," she countered, although there was no 
real passion to it, her hostility seemed to have abated for now.

"You've got muscles!" he exclaimed. 

If he'd given any thought to a strategy of how to swing the conversation 
subtly towards this fact, then the shock of feeling just how powerful 
she actually was discarded it all in favour of blunt statement.

"Bodybuilders normally do," she told him dryly. "It's kinda their raison 
d'etre."

"You're a bodybuilder?" he repeated, equally shocked and delighted. The 
horror and madness seemed to be forgotten for the moment in light of 
this sudden revelation.

"Hence the muscles," she explained. 

"Really?" he said, trying to contain his immense excitement. He tried to 
play it cool, tried to recall all the times he'd fantasized this very 
scenario, never hoping to believe it would ever become true. "That's 
very impressive, for a woman to train up her body like that, I mean." 
And then, mustering his courage. "Could I see?" he asked, as sweetly as 
he could manage. 

Laura looked at him, her expression scathing. "I think we've got more 
serious matters to contend with," she told him. "For now, let's just 
deal with whatever the fuck it is you've unleashed, shall we?"

As though this flipped a switch in his head, Richard was suddenly 
confronted by the awful reality of what had happened. A wave of panic 
threatened to overwhelm him again but whatever it was she'd done to him 
helped to retain his composure.

"A demon," he stuttered. "It took my friend." And then, as his mind 
recalled, "She killed Terry and the others. She ripped them apart!"

"The demon was a woman?" Laura asked, her voice clear and calm, 
determined to get the basic facts out of him.

"Yes. A huge, muscle-bound woman."

She raised an eyebrow at this, all the more intrigued. "Today seems to 
be your day for muscle-bound women," she remarked. "What can you tell me 
about her? Her appearance, anything she said. How was she dressed?"

"Chyou."

Laura stopped dead, regarding him carefully. This was apparently not 
what she'd been expecting. "What!"

"That's her name."

"What makes you think she was Chyou?"

"She said she was."

"She was dressed in battle armour? Oriental? Small in stature but mighty 
in build?"

"Sounds like her. Except for the armour. What she was wearing was 
actually kinda skimpy."

"Holy fuck! You don't do things by half!"

"Is it bad?" Richard asked her hesitantly, for all the world like a 
guilty schoolboy admitting to a minor misdemeanour.

"Bad? Let's see now. You've unleashed a warrior demon capable of 
crushing rocks in her fists, capable of ripping a man's head off his 
shoulders with a single blow. She used to be summoned on battlefields to 
wipe out entire armies. They never bothered summoning any other demons 
to fight besides her because they would be utterly redundant."

Richard had hung his head in shame. But when he looked up he caught her 
wonky grin. "What?"

"Actually, it could be a lot worse," Laura told him.

"Worse than that?"

"She's a killer demon, and could probably wipe the face of the Earth 
clean of all human life if she so chose to, but yeah, it could've been 
worse."

"I don't like to think how."

"First things fucking last. Where did you cast the summoning? Close by?"

"Yeah, back of the Rec."

"Fine, show me where. And tell me what happened. Everything that 
happened. No matter how petty or irrelevant it may seem."

And so he did. As they walked Richard told her every detail that he 
could remember. All Simon had told him about the legend, about the 
preparation and casting of the spell. At this point Laura rolled her 
eyes, contemptuous of the absolute stupidity of two boys playing with 
forces they had no hope of understanding.

He told her everything he could remember about the spell and the effect 
it had upon him, blushing furiously as he recalled the erotic response 
he'd had to the casting. He neglected to mention the specifics of the 
vision that had consumed his senses however, merely stating that he'd 
seen a fantasy woman. He didn't tell her that the dream image was 
specifically a body-built babe with insanely well developed muscles and 
he certainly didn't tell her that the bicep bombshell in question was in 
fact her, at least a deeply idealised and sexualised vision of her. 
Somehow he doubted she'd exactly take it as a complement.

"Just as well it was a female demon you summoned," Laura quipped, 
teasingly.

"Why?"

She grinned slyly, slightly mockingly, though without malice.

Richard had never told anyone about his secret love of muscle-bound 
women. It was something he didn't exactly feel ashamed of, but he did 
fear that people would judge him for it. He felt the freak often enough, 
he really didn't want people thinking him a bizarre pervert too. Even 
Simon, his lifelong best friend had no idea that his ideal woman 
outweighed Simon's ideal woman by fifty pounds - every ounce of it pure, 
unadulterated muscle.

It was natural therefore for him to neglect to mention that the fantasy 
vision his mind had conjured had been of a hugely muscular bodybuilder. 
However, it was a subject he seriously wanted to bring up, given Laura's 
declaration, especially given the careless way she'd delivered it. This 
was a subject he seriously wanted to stay on.

"It's typical, you know," Richard remarked, his pulse thrumming 
nervously in his throat. His voice at least stayed calm and steady. 
"I've always dreamed of meeting a female bodybuilder and then, when I 
finally do, she turns out to be a killer demon hell bent on carnage."

"Have you really always wanted to meet a female bodybuilder?" she asked 
him. It was a genuine question, as if she couldn't be sure whether or 
not he was being mocking.

"Yeah," he told her honestly, trying to sound as sincere as he genuinely 
was.

"Ever been to a gym?" she asked.

Now it was Richard's turn to wonder whether this was mocking or not.

They were interrupted by stumbling upon the point at which the spell had 
been cast. More specifically, stumbling upon a severed head.

"Friend of yours?"

"Not remotely." Richard told her. But the gruesome wreckage gave him no 
sense of joy or gladness, despite the years of antagonism and bullying.

"Here's another one," Laura announced from a short distance away. "And 
that's... oh dear God, you weren't fucking kidding!"

They left the strewn corpses and Laura knelt besides the small bonfire, 
examining it in exquisite detail. She discovered a small green ornament. 
The object had been cloven in two. She took the pieces gingerly and 
wrapped them in a leather cloth. She produced another and used it to 
wrap the dagger up too. She then pocketed both bundles and carelessly 
tossed everything else into the rucksack, which she gave back to Richard.

"Do you have any powers?" Laura asked him. Richard felt disheartened by 
the slight hint of contempt this seemed to imply.

"Well, I wasn't the one to do the actual spell..." he began to explain.

"I was wondering why she spared you. I'm guessing she recognised some 
minimal potential in you, that you'd do if nothing else - no one else - 
was available. Then, when she tested your friend, as he was the one with 
the power she picked him instead."

"Well, I can do this," he told her, trying to sound impressive. He 
lifted his hand to her cheek. There was a crackle of electricity and he 
felt the sharp sting pass from his fingertip and into her face.

"Ow, did you just shock me!" she exclaimed, sounding half surprised, 
half indignant. She smiled though, which cheered him. "Don't trade body-
blows with me little boy," she warned, rising her own hand. Static 
crackled potently between her fingers, a writhing mass of blue snakes 
far in excess of the tiny charge he'd been able to express.

What felt like a sonic pulse struck Richard bodily in the chest, quaking 
him down to the bone, throwing him backwards fifteen feet.

Every muscle twitching, Richard groaned, the hard ground cold beneath 
him. Doubtless there would be bruising before too long.

Laura grinned at him smugly, apparently highly pleased with herself.

"That's quite impressive," Richard said, getting shakily to his feet.

"Trust me, that was nothing," she told him, "you've got no idea how 
powerful I am!" And she flexed her biceps. Unfortunately, in the great 
frills and billows of her top this was purely a symbolic gesture rather 
than a more specific display of her actual musculature. Nothing was 
revealed by the flex. With the wind blowing, ruffling the loose blouse 
about her, Richard hadn't seen anything.

Though bitterly disappointed by this teasing lack of exhibition he was 
still intensely excited by the fact of it - a woman, one who claimed to 
be a bodybuilder no less, was flexing her biceps in front of him, albeit 
only suggestively. It was a thrill almost as electrifying as her energy 
blast had been.

"You could at least roll up your sleeve if you're going to do that," 
Richard suggested, without any real hope.

Instead, Laura rolled her eyes, dropping the pose. "Men," she sighed. 
"I'm trying to demonstrate my strengths and skills, and all you want is 
a cheep peek at my various attributes. Honestly! Women claim 
bodybuilding as the last frontier in feminism, claiming the right to a 
muscular body, forcing their way into the last male bastion for the sake 
of equal rights. And what do men do? They turn it into soft-porn!"

Richard smiled. She'd called him a man, not a boy. It was better than 
nothing.

She dropped the rant, obviously not bothered enough to drive her point 
home. And doubtless believing it fell upon deaf ears anyway.

Richard considered debating the issue further with her, insisting he 
wasn't like that, that he adored and respected women. But he had to 
acknowledge that she was right. However much he may genuinely respect 
their accomplishments, female bodybuilding was, to him, a means to get 
off and little else. If he wasn't turned on by them, his opinion of 
female bodybuilders would probably be very different. And that fact 
suddenly struck him as hypocrisy. It was quite a realisation to have. 
Maybe there was hope for him yet. 

"You were trying to flirt with me by giving me that shock, weren't you," 
she said, changing the subject.

He did consider denying it but she hadn't really been asking a question. 

"I was just playing," he told her, apologetically, "I didn't mean it to 
hurt or anything."

"Well, in that future if you want to show off that trick to a woman, 
take my advice and stay away from the face. Believe me it won't go down 
well. Shock her arm or something, or better still her chest, but not her 
face."

"Her boobs?" Richard asked, surprised.

She rolled her eyes. "No, not her boobs, her chest," she said, bringing 
her palm to her own chest, below the throat, placing it flat just above 
the impressive swell of her breasts. "So it disperses throughout her 
torso." She then tapped her cheek. "Hitting someone here is too 
pronounced. They think your doing something tender and then you cause 
them this sharp pain - it's a betrayal. Also it'll remind them of the 
dentist, and when you're flirting with someone, you don't want them to 
have that association." 


Then she brought her finger up and touched the cleft of his collarbone, 
dead centre, and sent a spark right through his torso. The shock seemed 
to thrum through his whole ribcage, making his heart lurch and his 
breath sizzle for just a moment. It was painful, but only a little, and 
it felt good in a way that a sharp sting of an electric shock to the 
face probably did not.

"You see," she told him flirtatiously. "Far more intimate."

He reached his hand up to her chest to try. But her expression halted 
him dead in his tracks.

"Practice on someone else," she suggested, her voice a low warning.

Richard wisely dropped his finger again.





They were heading back out of the Rec. They had all they needed from the 
scene.

"What about the bodies?" Richard asked her.

"Should cause quite a sensation, don't you think. You can imagine what 
the newspapers will make of all this." And then, in a far darker and 
more ominous tone. "I hope to God there won't be any more before this is 
done."

"What do we do now?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I need a fucking coffee."

"I meant about Chyou?"

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "I don't suggest we face her until dawn 
breaks, which is about five hours or so. We'll track her down first, 
which I'm hoping you can help with."

Richard nodded. There was a short pause as he mustered his courage.

"Laura?"

"What."

"If I buy you a coffee, will you show me your biceps?"

"No."

"OK."

There was another pause.

"Laura?"

"If this is about my muscles again, I am going to deck you."

Richard thought quickly, dropping his original query. He thought again 
of Simon, of what the creature might be doing to him. "What'll happen to 
my friend?"

She softened. "We'll rescue him as soon as it gets light," she assured 
him. And then, almost to herself she added, "I just hope he can last 
until then."

"Last?"

She signed. "I should probably tell you a little about Chyou."





"Is this going to hurt?" Richard asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as 
quivery to her as it did to him.

"Have you had an out of body experience before?" she asked.

"No."

"What, really?" she gasped, as though he'd just told her he'd never been 
on holiday or never eaten chicken.

"No," he repeated, more firmly, trying to cover a sudden sense of 
inadequacy.

"Don't worry," she told him, her voice gentle and reassuring now and 
having lost almost all of its condescension. "It's like dreaming." Then 
she asked: "you have dreamt before, right?"

He didn't dignify that with an answer.

Richard was laying on a table in the back room of the shop where he and 
Simon had first met Laura. Was that really only ten or so hours ago? How 
could that even be possible?

She had cleared the paperwork and stationary off the table, it was 
obviously where the business was run from. There were also computer 
peripherals but no computer. He would have guessed an absent laptop had 
such trivial matters concerned him at all at this moment.

Instead he was worried about Simon. About what the demon warrior was 
doing to him. He'd heard the term succubus and had a vague idea what one 
was, but legends differed about specifics and apparently they each 
varied in their powers and methods anyway. What was clear however, was 
that unless they located Chyou and her victim, Simon's lifeforce would 
be completely drained by the demon.

Richard had known Simon since they were both children, he knew him about 
as well as anyone did, save immediate family. In addition to that, he 
had a marginal affinity for magic, and what magic he had practiced, he'd 
done so in tangent with Simon. There was literally no better candidate, 
Laura assured him, for the spell she was about to perform.

She took out what looked like a small lump of quartz. It was rough and 
misshapen and also seemed to possess an odd quality, a kind of unnatural 
lustre that simply couldn't be. She took the rock and placed it gently 
in the dip of his throat, its weight uncomfortable though not painful or 
restrictively so.

"Close your eyes," she instructed and he did so, lightly shutting the 
lids without screwing them tight. The electric light above him made his 
closed eyelids visibly red. He felt another stone of some sort placed 
against his forehead. "This is going to feel a bit weird," she warned, 
"but it's also pretty cool. It'll allow me to guide you through the 
astral projection."

She was right, it did feel weird, as if the stone was sucking as his 
head. No, not his head, his mind. Invisible wires seemed to be joining 
directly to his brain and it was almost as if he could feel the pulse as 
they came alive.

"Now, I'm going to be using a trunking-spell," she told him. "It'll put 
you in the right mindstate to get us started."

Richard felt his heartbeat lurch into overdrive, remembering the kiss 
she'd used to awaken him from his shock, like some gender-reversed 
Prince Charming.

Instead, and much to his great disappointment, she chose on this 
occasion to use another form of delivery for the spell. 

Her hands grasped the sides of his head. Remarkably strong fingers found 
pressure points at his temple, his cheek, his jaw, his forehead and 
below his chin. Then she squeezed.

Agony erupted as his skull creaked in protest. It felt as though she 
would crush his head like a melon, driving her digits through the bone 
as easily as a teaspoon smashes a hard-boiled egg. Didn't she realise 
her own strength? She was about to kill him!

He tried to fight her off, tried to raise his hands in defence or even 
raise his voice in protest but he was helpless. His whole body was 
utterly paralysed.

And then the pain was gone and he realised she wasn't squeezing his head 
at all, it was just the suddenness of it, like a jolt of surprise. And 
then he realised he could see that she wasn't squeezing his head, 
because he was looking down at his head and he could see her fingertips 
lightly pressed against his face with the utmost tenderness. It was 
weird to look at her touching him so, and yet at the same time still 
feel the points of contact. His mind couldn't quite make sense of the 
incongruity of it, even if his logical self could.

He was maybe fifteen feet above himself, or so it appeared, even though 
he knew that would technically put him above the ceiling. Such spatial 
continuity was apparently unimportant here. 

Laura removed her hands from him, sitting back up. He caught a fantastic 
view right down her top, her large breasts sticking right out, pushing 
the loose flaps of her blouse away from her. She looked up at him and 
smiled, doing nothing but improve the sensual beauty of the picture a 
thousand-fold. 

"You ready?" she asked, addressing the him that was floating above her, 
apparently she was able to clearly see him in his current form, despite 
her assertion that he would be invisible.

He was unable to reply however.

She waved a hand over his body, fingers dexterously articulating a 
complex pattern of gestures in a precise and smooth motion.

And the world fell away.

Into smoke. 

He wondered if this was a cloud. It appeared ethereal somehow.

"Focus on the matter in hand," Laura reminded him.

He didn't hear the words so much as remember them, but as though the 
memory - one of something that had never happened - had been somehow 
directed from a source outside of his own mind.

"That's really weird," he told her, thinking the words in the same way 
she had. Although by 'weird' he meant 'distressing' she still understood 
him perfectly.

He could hear her rolling her eyes in response. "Get over it," she 
suggested. Tone of voice could apparently be transmitted too.

So he thought about Simon and found himself standing in a long corridor. 
Uniformly decorated, it had the occasional fire extinguisher and regular 
doors. He recognised the feel of the place. It was a hotel, and from the 
look of things, quite a cheap one.

"I'm in a hotel," he began to explain.

"I can see!" she assured him. "Focus on finding your friend."

She could see through his eyes? Richard suddenly remembered that the 
first thing he'd done upon floating above his body was take the 
opportunity to ogle her breasts, the angle giving him a near flawless 
view down her blouse.

"Yes, I could see that too," she assured him sternly, apparently able to 
read his thoughts whether he was deliberately articulating them or not. 
Had he still a body, Richard would certainly have blushed at this. 
Instead he just put it aside and concentrated on the matter in hand. 
Simon.

He hadn't walked down the corridor at all but somehow had already 
travelled most of its length to find himself outside one door in 
particular.

"Should I..." he began to ask but was already inside.





Simon was naked as was the demon woman astride him. He was lying back on 
the bed, helpless as the muscle-bound succubus rode him. Her powerful 
thighs were working her body above him, impaling herself upon him in a 
steady, solid rhythm.

Richard floated behind her and could see the muscles in her back and 
shoulders, writhing like snakes, alive beneath her skin. Her arms 
reached down to the boy trapped beneath her but she didn't need to hold 
him, he was barely struggling, already too defeated, too exhausted to 
put up any sort of defence against her. Although any sort of defence 
against an assailant as powerful and physically superior would clearly 
be a pointless endeavour.

Richard watched in horrified shock as the demon continued to grind away 
at his friend, working her businesslike pleasure.

When Laura had told him what Chyou would be doing to his friend, Richard 
had actually felt a sliver of jealousy. Not only was Simon having sex - 
something both boys had only ever dreamed of before, but he was having 
sex with the most muscular woman imaginable. Chyou was far bigger than 
the most accomplished bodybuilders that Richard hungrily lusted after, 
even on those websites devoted to the most extreme of developed 
physiques.

But to see it now, the reality of what Simon was subjected to, even he 
had to admit, the reality wasn't the same thing as the fantasy. This was 
assault, plain and simple, and without any potent eroticism shaping it, 
the violence and torture was all too prevalent.

There was something hideously mechanical about her activity, as though 
to her this was simply business. This rape was as perfunctory to her as 
the slaughter of Terry Bradley and his gang back on the Rec ground. 
What's more, the careless ease with which she subjugated his body for 
her own ends highlighted the utterly disposable nature of her victim 
here too. Richard had no doubt that Chyou would simply continue to sap 
his friend's physical and psychic substance until there was nothing left 
but an empty husk.

"It's his lifeforce she's draining," Laura explained in his head. "The 
rape is almost a symbolic act. It's what allows her to sync with his 
mind and drain his psychic energy. She'll keep this up until she's 
sucked him completely dry."

"And what happens to him then?"

"He'll die."

"How long before that happens?"

"Depends on your friend. If he has as much affinity for magic as you do, 
probably a couple of days or so."

Richard stared at the ferocity with which the muscular demon continued 
to relentlessly pound Simon with her body. Symbolic or not, she seemed 
to him to be draining him in the most blatantly physical way possible, 
rather than on any psychic or spiritual level.

A couple of days! Watching the relentless demon, he didn't doubt that 
the act would be a continuous one until the task was complete.

"Can his body take that much abuse?"

"As long as his spirit holds out, his body will. She doubtless needs to 
use magic to keep him... active, as it were. But don't worry, we'll 
rescue him before she does any permanent damage."

Richard felt himself approach the coupling pair. Suddenly he was 
watching from the other side, standing at the head of the bed instead of 
the foot, as though watching a TV show switch to another camera for a 
reverse shot. The fact that this technically imbedded him in the wall 
didn't seem to matter.

"Richard!" Laura warned, but he was too distracted by the assault 
occurring before his eyes to pay any heed.

Simon was staring, dead-eyed, still conscious but appearing completely 
depleted. His arms moved more through the momentum of the demon shaking 
his body. But still he stirred, an odd limb shuddering occasionally, as 
though wanting to fight off this relentless beast, but being so 
exhausted that he couldn't even remember how to try.

Chyou was just staring down coldly at her victim, eyes locked on his 
bleary, drug-like glaze, only the faintest glimmer of pleasure expressed 
on her stony-eyed face.

Even so, there appeared to be a sudden, subtle change in her demeanour. 
So slight he almost missed it. A flicker of something - recognition? - 
and without ceasing in her mechanically rhythmic assault of the semi-
conscious boy, she lunged one huge arm forward at the invisible voyeur 
at the head of the bed.

Panicked, Richard tried to back away. Suddenly he realised the 
inconvenience of not having a body. Without limbs, he could not flee. He 
tried to pull back but couldn't even turn away.

Any last degree of eroticism he yet felt for the stunning warrior woman 
quickly evaporated as those beautiful arms reached for him with 
murderous intent.

But she could not reach. 

Instead he felt the smoke rise again. The world around him disappeared 
into mist. His senses faded and his panic abated.

And - very slowly - the real world coalesced gently, by degree, around 
him. Only gradually did he become aware of it as though his 
consciousness took a few seconds to once more find its place back inside 
his body. 

The first thing he noticed was a great weight - something soft but solid, 
was crushing down upon him. No, not something, two things. Two large, 
weighty cushions, like padded cannonballs, were pressing down against 
his chest.

As before, he only became aware of Laura's kiss as she withdrew it, 
lifting her mouth off of his, lips departing, releasing the bond she'd 
made to quickly deliver the spell. And as she rose, the hefty pressure 
of her breasts pressing down against his chest abated.

She was astride him on the desk on her hands and knees. He felt the bulk 
of her muscled thighs either side of his but aside from that their 
bodies were no longer in contact.

Then she lifted herself off, swinging one leg over his body and stepped 
back to the ground.

"You OK?" she asked.

His lips were still thrumming from the tender kiss he'd so fleetingly 
been aware of - his chest still hot from the warmth of her breasts.

"Uh-huh," he managed.

He tried to stand but as soon as he put his weight on his legs they 
buckled under him.

He keeled forward but Laura caught him, her hands slipping beneath his 
armpits. She lifted him bodily with the ease in which a mother carries a 
toddler taking a similar stumble. She gently lowered him back to the 
ground, letting him find his feet and his balance.

Richard was too woozy to feel the humiliation at this. Too woozy also to 
feel the pulse of excitement at such a careless display of feminine 
strength.

"You want a drink?" she asked him, turning anyway, answering for him, 
"let's have a drink."

Although his experience of alcohol was limited, he'd been drunk on a few 
occasions. Simon's mum's homemade cider had been a deceptively potent 
concoction and introduced him to the joys of both inebriation and 
hangovers. Since then he'd avoided cider and even apple-juice but had 
actually begun to develop a taste for lager, finally understanding that 
something which tasted so foul to begin with could, and surprisingly 
quickly, become rich and flavoursome. He was confident he could look 
sophisticated in front of Laura with a drink in his hand.

Laura however had something else in mind, approaching a gleaming and 
treasured contraption of chrome and glass. She made two espressos.

Richard looked down into the black mud and shrugged. He took a sip of 
the steaming liquid.

"Oh, sorry, you want milk?"

"No it's fine," he assured her, trying to look cool. "Just a little 
hot." He continued to sip, managing not to wince. And actually, could 
well imagine developing a taste for this too.

"Why would she take him to a hotel?" Laura wondered.

"Sense of decency, or propriety?" Richard joked. "Who says romance is 
dead?"

"Why not just drain him where she found him? There in the middle of the 
field?"

Laura had told him that it was a psychic thing, that despite the 
physical assault it was a mental bond with Simon that the demon was 
using to drain his energy.

"Maybe she's picking up on something from his mind," Richard suggested. 
"In his head that's where sleazy encounters happen."

"It makes no sense whatsoever. She wouldn't even understand our society, 
even if she cared to follow its dictates."

"And also, why that hotel?" Richard asked. 

"Huh? Just because it's closest, I suppose."

"Well, it is only half a mile from the Rec," he admitted. "But you've 
still got to practically walk right past the Brockstein House hotel to 
get there."

Laura screwed up her face in confusion as she processed this. "She 
ignores a poncey 5-star bells-and-whistles mansion in favour of a budget, 
mass-market, churn-um-out place? That makes no sense."

"What's she worried about, her credit card bill?" Richard said. "Or 
maybe she just wants a quick check-out in the morning. It has easy 
access to the motorway, you know."

Laura pondered the problem. With sudden resolve she shrugged, drained 
her cup. "Not that it matters. First light, we go kill the bitch. Right 
now, we've got work to do."





"So she's like a vampire, allergic to sunlight," Richard had asked her 
hopefully.

"No, she's like a vampire in that sunlight does her no harm whatsoever."

"So why wait for dawn?"

"OK," Laura admitted, "her powers will be somewhat muted by sunlight. 
It'll leave her more vulnerable to my magic. But her physical strength 
is unaffected. She'll still be just as strong as she looks. Far more so 
actually."

They were at the hotel now. They walked up to the desk. Richard wondered 
what they were going to ask the desk clerk. 'Did a body-built demon 
wearing a metal bikini come in? She would have been carrying an 
unconscious teenager in her arms.'

As it happens, there was no one to ask. 

The counter was high. Laura lifted herself up and leaned across, 
swinging her body forward.

Richard got a view of her bum, tight against her skirt, the hard flex of 
calf as she lifted one leg up for balance. He was not too nervous about 
the mission they were on to ignore the beauty of such a sight.

"Were you staring at my bum?" she demanded as she lowered herself again.

"What's over there?" Richard demanded in return, realising she was just 
trying to distract him.

"Don't look," she advised, voice softer. But she didn't stop him when he 
did.

The reason there was no clerk at the desk was because the clerk was dead 
beneath the desk. He had been struck in the face with what looked to 
have been a sledge-hammer at full swing. It was doubtlessly actually 
caused by Chyou's fist. Either way, the devastation wrought was the same.

"Guess she didn't leave her credit card then." Despite the callousness 
of the quip, there was still a shakiness to his voice.

"You OK?" she asked, genuinely tender now.

He nodded bravely. "If I do start to feel woozy will you give me one of 
those magic-spell kisses again?"

She slapped his arm and led the way.

"That's not a 'no' then," he said, following.

The lock on the door had been ripped off. The bulky metal card-reader 
and door-handle was a mangle of shattered pieces all crushed together 
and screwed up into a tight ball, as though made of nothing more 
substantial than paper and tinfoil.

The door swung open at Laura's touch, the frame where the lock ran into 
it had been wrenched off by the force of the woman breaking in and 
nothing was holding it closed now.

The couple fucking on the bed were much as Laura and Richard had seen 
them in the vision. Neither had noticed the intrusion. Chyou was too 
focused on her single-minded assault, concentrating on thoroughly 
draining the boy trapped beneath and inside her. Simon had long ago 
given up on any kind of conscious or sensory awareness of the world 
beyond - lost in the unending physical assault of his body by this 
relentless demon.

Silently, Richard stole across the room, behind the writhing back of the 
warrior woman. He was impressed by the curtains - huge thick barriers 
against the sun. They were dark and heavy and effectively blocked out 
all light from the window. Even a hotel as cheap and basic-needs as this 
knew where not to cut corners it seemed.

A nod from Laura and he threw back the curtain.

Actually - it was a clumsy effort, the rail refusing to run smoothly and 
he actually lifted it rather than sweeping it majestically away, as he'd 
intended. And it was actually heavier than he'd anticipated too, so he 
didn't even do that very well. And he nearly tripped, staggering as he 
found his feet, only his grip on the drape preventing him from tumbling 
over. But he regained his composure and with a series of savage jerks 
wrenched the damn thing across, exposing the demon in a sudden and 
(nearly) instant wash of freshly risen sunlight.

He turned to see what was happening on the bed. Chyou - the all powerful 
and terrible monster demon, risen from her eternal prison to once more 
wreak havoc upon the Earth - was currently on her knees, upon the bed, 
pinned helpless by two narrow points of green light.

Laura stood beside the bed, her arms outstretched. In each she held a 
small hand-mirror. Each one was curiously coated, a rough glaze of some 
green glass as though a sugary candy had melted and set to create a thin, 
translucent layer across the mirrors' surfaces.

She was using these now to refocus two discs of sunlight onto the naked 
demon's awesome torso. She moved closer, keeping the reflected points of 
light on Chyou. The bright spots rested steady on her mighty breasts, 
but it was her heart that was speared, pinned and helpless against this 
magic. The demon gasped, body juddering, pained and helpless against so 
seemingly slight a thing.

Laura angled her wrists, using subtle movements to steer the demon as 
one would a stunt kite - the tiniest of motions at the base of the 
string having the grandest of dramatic sweeps at the end. Chyou yelped 
and grimaced, moving her body, backing away from the boy.

Simon was unconscious - the horror of his ordeal too much to endure both 
in spirit and body. 

"Make a circle with the sand," Laura ordered. "Doesn't matter how rough 
or careless it is, just as long as it's unbroken. Do not get close 
enough for her to reach you! She's still stronger than a gorilla and she 
will rip you in half."

But there was something that they hadn't prepared for - hadn't even 
considered.

The room had been occupied when Chyou intruded upon it with her prize. 
And that occupant now rose from where he'd been left, forgotten and 
ignored. Dressed only in his underwear, shorts and vest that had both 
seen better and brighter days. He'd been hidden in the narrow gap 
between the bed and the wall, covered in shadow. 

Zombie-like he had only the most base, residual intelligence left behind 
his glazed eyes. He fell upon the closest one to him. Laura.

She caught only a sideways glance of motion before the senseless 
creature was upon her, fingers grasping claw-like, a dull roar of muted 
but animalistic rage expelled as it attacked.

Keeping one mirror on track, Laura swept the other arm to the side, 
smacking into the zombie with her elbow. She connected with the side of 
its head, hard enough to cause a juddering crunch.

But the jolt had moved the beam pinning the demon.

Chyou roared in fury and leapt at her assailant.

Laura turned back to the muscle-bound warrior just as she rushed at her.

A blast of kinetic energy, summoned seemingly out of the very ether, was 
directed towards the rushing monster. It knocked the demon back, a 
glancing blow which cast her aside. Without pause Chyou leapt again, 
this time she thundered towards Richard.

The zombie was, incredibly, still animate, although its head lolled 
ridiculously to the side. It fell upon Laura again but she was able to 
cast another summoning before letting it distract her, this time a 
shielding spell.

Chyou punched Richard in the side of the head, propelling him aside with 
unimaginable force, before she leapt through the window, shattering it 
as effectively as would a demolition ball.

Dazed and greatly pained Richard stood up. He looked across at Laura who 
was lifting a man sideways across her raised knee. She braced her foot 
against the bed, braced her hands against the man's hip and his chest. 
With an exertion of deliberate strength she broke the man in half, 
snapping him across her knee as a strongwoman bends bars in a carnival.

"Shit!" he muttered.

"Don't worry," Laura assured him, "he was already dead. He was a 
zombie."

"What, like the movies?" he gasped.

"No, not like that, he's brain dead. His body was still alive but his 
mind was destroyed. Utterly taken over by the demon's will. For all 
practical purposes he might as well be dead. Without orders otherwise, 
or someone caring for him, he'd literally stand there and starve."

She turned her attention to Simon.

"Is he unconscious?" Richard asked, thinking that in the scheme of 
things, it was probably a blessing.

"No, he's in a coma."

"Jesus, is he gonna be OK?"

"He should be fine. I think I can reach him. It'll take some doing 
though. You up for more magic?"

"Whatever it takes," he told her. But it was a dull mutter rather than 
an impassioned affirmation. He'd never felt less heroic.

Richard looked out of the window. A shattered mess of broken glass and 
frame. He wasn't in the least surprised that the demon woman wasn't 
amongst the debris.

"Are you OK?" Laura asked him.

Richard touched his face where Chyou had struck him. He'd almost 
forgotten. Either than or his mind was being selective in its processing 
again. 

"I guess I have you to thank!" He recalled the caved-in mess - all that 
was left of the desk clerk's face. To say he'd got off lightly would be 
the biggest understatement since a certain pretty young sales clerk in a 
magic shop had warned two foolish boys that playing with spells can be 
dangerous.

Laura had lifted Simon, cradling him in her arms as a mother does a 
child. She'd put the thin towelling robe baring the hotel's logo on him 
but it had slipped open.

Richard closed it again, tied the belt. He couldn't help but notice that 
Simon still sported a stupendous erection, still ready to serve.

As they walked along the corridor another of the zombie-like guests 
rushed at them. This one was pyjamad at least, a hefty man coming at 
them in a shambling assault.

With an almost bored weariness, Laura twisted her body around in a 
shockingly precise and potent kick that broke the man's spine as she cut 
short his attack, folding him in half and sending him flying back. She'd 
kept hold of Richard throughout.

"I didn't know she could do that," Laura stated flatly. Then, more 
savagely, she cursed herself. "I should have known! I should have 
realised there was something. The desk clerk with his face smashed in 
but no guests had discovered the scene. A hotel like this you always 
have a few early check-outs. People on business or heading to the 
airport."

"You mean everyone here, everyone checked-in, is a zombie?"

"Is or would have been, given long enough. I guess that was her 
intention. It's why she picked this place. She didn't care that it was a 
hotel. She just needed a large gathering of people collected together in 
a small area. It could just have easily been a block of flats. She 
wanted minions. She wanted her own army. As she drained the energy out 
of your friend here she was also invading the minds of everyone in range. 
Breaking their will, devastating their brains and turning them into 
helpless subjects."

"So there could be hordes of zombies between us and the exit?"

"Could be," she admitted.

But they made it out of the hotel without seeing another soul.





This time she took him back to her house. It was a semi-detached 
building on a pleasant, leafy cul-de-sac.

"Don't worry, my parents are away," she told him, as he unlocked the 
front door as silently as he possibly could. 

Laura carried Simon inside and laid him on the sofa in a large, 
immaculately tidy living room. She disappeared and returned with armfuls 
of ingredients, herbs and spices, potions and tinctures, a whole variety 
of twigs and leaves.

She began busily working away, concocting her medicine by memory and eye. 
Richard didn't see her use a single measuring device throughout the 
highly elaborate process. Her stove was a laboratory Bunsen-burner like 
the ones Richard recognised from school. A small gas canister fuelled it. 

"Just as well my folks are away, I'd have fun explaining all this."

She cooked her recipe gently, metal tongs holding a solution jar above 
the blue flame. She lifted it now and again, peering intently at the 
bubbling mixture and then returning it to the heat.

"They don't know you're a witch then?"

"No," she stated. "My Mum's a primary-school teacher and my Dad's in 
finance. It's like they read a book on how to be middle-class and stuck 
to it by the letter."

"Is that what you're rebelling against?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm hardly a rebel."

"You know what they say, all kids are reactionary to their upbringing. 
If the parents are hippy radicals then the child turns into an 
accountant."

"They claim they were punks, if that helps your little pop-psychology," 
she told him. "Can't say I entirely believe it myself, even with the 
hilarious photographs to back them up. Besides, if I was just trying to 
freak them out, I'd tell them I was a witch. No, worse than that - I'd 
prove it!"

"What do they think about your bodybuilding? I take it you don't keep 
that secret from them too."

She laughed. "Hardly. Can you imagine?" Then she said fondly, "actually 
they took it pretty well. But then I always was athletic. My Dad 
converted the garage into a gym for me. They were shocked, I guess, but 
not so much that they're not proud of me. It means a lot."

"Maybe some of their punk spirit survived."

She smiled broadly at that. "Yeah, maybe," she agreed.

Once the potion was ready Laura put it aside to cool.

She told him she needed to perform a trunking-spell on Simon.

"Like that thing you did to me?" Richard asked. He felt a sudden pang of 
jealousy. He found that he desperately didn't want Laura kissing Simon.

"No," she said with a sigh. "It wouldn't work. He's far too deeply 
entranced."

Richard felt relief. If he was actually going to stand any sort of 
chance at all with this girl, and he still harboured hopes that he did, 
it was because Simon wasn't there to step in ahead of him and steal her 
away. If she was going to wake him with a kiss, just like in the fairy 
tales, he knew Simon would charm his rescuing heroine right back again.

"No," Laura said, contemplatively, "this is gonna have to be a lot 
stronger than that. It has to be on par with what the succubus did to 
him."

"What?"

"I know it's intrusive, but it's the only way I can think of to bridge 
the gap."

"You can't mean that you're going to..." He couldn't even bring himself 
to complete the thought.

"The channels she was using to feed off of his energy should still be 
aligned. In fact I know they are - that's why he's trapped - why he's 
still in a coma. I just have to match that mindstate and connect to him. 
Then I should be able to heal the damage that she's done. It's like I'll 
be entering his mind and leading him out again."

"When you say you need to join with him like how she did?" Richard asked 
cautiously. Suddenly the thought of Laura kissing Simon seemed 
ridiculously insignificant.

"Our minds need to connect."

"Oh. Your minds need to connect."

"And the easiest way to achieve that is by fucking."

Richard felt his heart sink.

"Easiest way?" he asked her. "So there are other options?"

"None as simple or as practical," she told him. "Believe me, this is by 
far the smartest and safest method."

Richard shrugged, not really sure what to say.

"I know it's not fair on him to take advantage like that, especially 
after all that Chyou's already put him through."

And, damn her, she sounded genuinely concerned as she said this.

"But in the greater scheme of things, if I don't do something, he'll be 
comatose for those few hours it takes his body to breakdown and die. It 
really is necessary."

She grinned playfully, "Besides, I like to think he won't be too 
affronted. On the one, brief occasion we met, he did seem rather taken 
with me, even if I do say so myself."

Richard was beside himself. Not content with having sex with a body-built 
woman, Simon was now going to have sex with Laura - the girl of 
Richard's dreams. He felt the sharp pang of utter and desperate jealousy. 
It was only the fact that Simon was comatose and dying after having been 
physically tortured for hours on end by a demon, that Richard was able 
to feel any sympathy for him at all.

"I'm going to need your help," Laura told him.

"You need my help?"

"Yes."

"My help to have sex with him?"

She laughed. "Yeah. Don't worry, I don't need any help with the actual 
coupling. I'm pretty good at that bit. And try not to think about it as 
having sex; it's only a necessary physical ritual - a part of the 
greater casting. I'm actually bonding with his spirit - his very soul."

She handed Richard a small hand-held contraption, what looked to him 
like a small, portable vacuum cleaner. It was a foot in length, was 
plastic and bulky, had a handle, a nozzle, a push-button trigger.

"You want me to Hoover your front room?" he asked her. "Because it 
actually looks quite tidy."

She laughed. While he held it she poured her potion into a hole on the 
side then screwed a plastic cap into place, tightened it flush with the 
casing. She gestured for him to try the machine.

Richard pressed the button and a thick wet smoke began to issue forth 
from the nozzle, permeating the atmosphere of the room like incense in a 
high church. It was not unpleasant and reminded Richard of what he 
thought dry-ice might be like in real life, had he not just seen it on 
TV.

"Pump some of that around, let's set the mood!"

Laura unrolled a large double duvet and smoothed it out on the floor. 
She placed a pillow on one end.

"Try not to breathe too much of that stuff, it can be a bit druggy."

"What's it for?"

"Kind of a psychic tranquiliser. Trust me, it'll make this whole ritual 
go a lot smoother. All you've got to do is sit back there and keep us 
both liberally dosed."

Richard sat at the end of the duvet.

Laura raised an eyebrow scornfully. "You don't need to be right on top 
of us," she assured him. You can give us a little space. I mean, I'm not 
an especially private person but within reason, you know?"

Blushing, Richard moved backwards to the end of the room. "Sor-ry! Just 
tell me where you do want me then."

"There is fine. The smoke goes far enough."

She lifted Simon from his place on the couch and gently lowered him onto 
the duvet, on his back his head towards where Richard now sat huffily 
some way off.

Laura kept her skirt on but she removed her underwear from beneath, 
kicking it aside. Tenderly she opened the hotel robe and sat astride 
Simon, much as the demon had done. Her hands stroked the boy's chest, 
fingers playing lightly on his barely haired torso.

"Are you sure this is necessary," Richard insisted. "You're not just 
doing this whole thing as an elaborate way to take advantage?"

Laura was faced towards Richard but she didn't look at him, keeping her 
attention focused instead on the boy beneath her. "Keep that machine 
going," she said sternly. "It should be continuous."

Huffily, Richard pumped more smoke towards the couple.

Laura unbuttoned and untucked the large, flowing blouse but she did not 
remove it, much to Richard's great disappointment. He'd been hoping to 
at least see her arms bared.

She'd ruffled her skirt up her legs in order to sit astride the boy. As 
she raised and positioned herself against him now, her bare thighs 
flared in muscular splendour. Although the loose flapping of her blouse 
prevented him from seeing anything X-rated, Richard couldn't help but be 
wowed by those legs. His eyes baulked in their sockets.

"I did tell you I was a bodybuilder," she reminded him.

Blushing he tried to peel his eyes away from the sight of her powerful 
limbs. He failed. "Sorry," he told her and actually had to place his own 
hand in front of his eyes, unable as he was to simply look aside. 
"That's very impressive."

"Thank you," she said, though her voice was somewhat stilted. She 
lowered her body onto the comatose boy. He was still fully erect. "Let's 
just hope you friend appreciates it too."

She spat on her fingers and eased the boy into her, being gentle, 
settling her positioning carefully. Richard couldn't see precisely what 
was going on but right now would have given the world to swap places 
with his friend - comatose or not.

Laura reached into the open blouse and unclipped her bra. It was a front 
loader. Though still obscured from sight by the loose and frilly folds 
of her top Richard saw that the white cotton cups stayed in place 
perfectly, even undone, her breasts holding the bra up rather than the 
other way around.

She took Simon's hands and lifted them to her chest, pushing the cups 
aside and wrapping his fingers around those large bulbous globes. She 
curled his fingers around the bountiful weight of each magnificent 
breast, keeping them in place by pinning his hands beneath her own. She 
began using his dull, unresponsive fingers to knead and manipulate the 
yielding flesh.

Simon watched this performance open mouthed. Although her amazing boobs 
were covered by the two hands on each of them, he could see more than 
enough to thrill him senseless. Though he'd yet to glimpse a nipple, her 
breasts were of a size such that hands along could not completely 
conceal their splendour from view.

She closed her eyes and slowly and tenderly rocked her body on him. 
Simon was still dead beneath her, making no response.

Richard tried to pretend it wasn't happening and just focused on his job, 
pumping the smoke at the coupling pair. It was really filling the room 
now, although you could see through it OK. Well enough to see what was 
happing at least.

Richard felt his head begin to get a little giddy. He remembered the odd, 
stoned-like buzz he'd gotten from the spell Simon had performed when 
he'd unleashed Chyou into the world. This was similar. He recalled the 
vision he'd had - of the bountiful muscle-babe naked and flexing for his 
pleasure. Indeed the same muscle-babe who was currently semi-clothed and 
writhing before his very eyes right now, riding his decidedly 
unappreciative best friend.

Laura at least seemed to be getting something from it. Her eyes were 
tightly shut and a distracted murmur of pleasure played across her 
businesslike features. She was more roused now, her passion more evident. 
Her rhythm and technique was deliberate and genuine. Despite the gentle 
tenderness with which she went about the act, there was a wanton hunger 
about her too. This might just be a spell performed, and a necessary one 
at that, but that didn't mean the she was denying the physical pleasure 
to be had from it either.

Simon for his part was still just a dead weight beneath her.

Her belly was fully in view now, her back arching for better positioning. 
Her pulsating washboard of abdominal muscles rippled with the harmonious 
fluttering of her stomach in spasm, quivering with the joy of sweet 
constant motion.

The smoke in the air, a rich heady lusty madness. And Richard could now 
actually feel a little of what she was doing. A stilted version of the 
nagging insistence that was worming into Simon's mind. It was as if the 
unquenchable desire she stirred within him made him susceptible to the 
same mental bonding. He could feel her lust and her passion but more 
than that, he could feel her potent strength realigning neural pathways, 
clearing out broken thoughts and tongue-tied mental switches.

Maybe it was just the psychic bond that had already been established 
between all of them, but Richard could actually feel their minds coming 
together. He didn't need to be told that the spell was working, he could 
feel that it was working. From inside his mind, he saw Simon rouse and 
become conscious of the world once more, even before he made a single 
physical motion.

But motion he did indeed make.

Hands which were held pinned against her breasts began instead to clasp 
them in earnest. Astonished eyes opened to see the glory of a beautiful 
and sensual creature of utter delight riding him with the savage grace 
of a lustful nymph.

Laura too instantly recognised the change. She didn't pause in fucking 
him but opened her eyes to grin down at the boy, her expression playful 
and carnal and relentlessly smug.

Simon raised himself, needing her help and cooperation which she 
willingly gave, adjusting their positions. Together they lifted his body 
up to face her although she didn't cease or pause in her bucking thrusts 
while doing so.

It was still her doing the work, still her relentless muscles powering 
the rhythmic grinding. Simon was just trying to keep up, scarcely able 
to believe what was happing to him but more than willing to go along 
with it.

He plunged his head between her mammoth breasts, pressing them together 
on either side of his ears, smothering himself with them. He was like a 
child playing with pillows.

She giggled, stroking the top of his head, indulging him, enjoying the 
immense pleasure he obtained from her.

Then he pulled back, opening his hand to replace it with his mouth, 
continuing to fondle the side of the breast while he sucked the teat. He 
pulled back again, staring at this wondrous being, utterly agog.

She smiled down at him, stroking his face, then moved in to kiss him, 
locking her mouth against his while they continued to fuck with complete 
abandon.





Richard was crestfallen. It was indisputable that the spell was complete 
and the result was clearly a positive one. Simon was awake and animated 
once more and showing no signs of distress or damage from his trauma. 
But the coupling pair showed no signs of finishing, despite the fact 
that there was no longer any need to continue. The magic was done. They, 
however, were not.

Richard hadn't actually given it any thought beforehand, but he'd kind 
of assumed that once the spell had proven successful, Laura would climb 
embarrassedly off of Simon. They would both shamefacedly clothe 
themselves and Laura would then apologise for taking such liberties and 
explain to him the unfortunate necessity of such extreme behaviour.

Given the relentless zeal with which they continued to fuck, 
irrespective of an audience, it was apparent that this wasn't the way 
things were going to go.

Richard sighed and put the smoke machine down. He turned around and 
finally left the room, retreating into the kitchen. Neither Laura nor 
Simon noticed.

Their embrace was tighter now, Laura's arms secure around Simon's 
shoulders, their fervent kiss ongoing as she continued to ride him. 
Noticing something unexpected for the first time, Simon brought his 
hands up her back, exploring. His fingers moved around the broad, 
powerful shoulders and down her arms.

He discovered her biceps, not without some shock, his hands clasping the 
mammoth fullness of those twitching, bulging muscles. He pulled his body 
back so he could see properly, amazed and enthralled.

Laura realised his shock. She released him as he pulled back, allowing a 
little space between their torsos, although their bucking hips would not 
be stilled.

Their eyes met and she registered his surprise. Her gaze moved to her 
own body and she looked deliberately at her arms as she raised them out 
to the sides. Her elbows bent and her fists came up, pumping out the 
traditional bodybuilders' pose - front double-biceps. 

She had sweated the top into clingy transparency and her bulging muscles 
were clearly visible - two huge round mountains - the kind of hard-core 
peaks that bodybuilders around the world, both male and female, strove 
for, but that few ever actually achieved. And here she was, a tender 
teenaged girl, with arms that could shame champions.

She looked from the staggering display to her wide-eyed, open-mouthed 
partner. She offered him a wonky grin and lifted an eyebrow as though 
wryly intoning: 'well hey, what about that?'

In awed silence, Simon's hands grasped for the gigantic muscles wanting 
to feel them properly.

She dropped the pose however, wrapping those mighty arms about him once 
more, pulling him into her embrace, returning the kiss to his lips.

Her hips had continued to buck throughout, repeatedly impaling her onto 
his unflagging cock.





Inside the kitchen, the sound of the pair's relentless joy saddened 
Richard. He could not help but feel hideously jealous of his friend's 
good fortune. OK, so he'd been raped to near-death by a demon, but that 
in itself had at least some level of eroticism to it, and this cure was 
surely worth the pain and indignity suffered.

Unable to stand the sounds echoing through the wall and closed door, 
Richard explored further, discovering a door to the adjoined garage. Or 
what had once been a garage.

Now it was full of exercise equipment. A bench and weights rack, aerobic 
bike and stepper type things. A metal frame he assumed was for chin-ups. 
A wide, rough mat on the floor that again reminded him of school. What 
looked to his porn-tainted eyes like a pole-dancing pole running from 
floor to ceiling and securely bolted in place.

He walked to the head of the bench and the barbell, fully loaded, laying 
in its cradle, ready and waiting to be manhandled into the air. He took 
a grip on the bar and tried it for weight. He struggled and tried in 
earnest, heaving with all his might. He couldn't even rock the thing, 
let alone lift it.

Again he found himself wondering at Laura's body - at her strength. On a 
table he found scribbled notes and charts. There were numbers written in 
tables. It meant nothing to him, his knowledge of exercise limited to 
looking at pretty pictures of athletic women on the internet. They did 
look like quite large numbers however.

He'd been hoping for photographs of Laura flexing, still wanting to see 
the body that so far had only been hinted at. Instead there was a large 
mirror.

Inspirational pictures of both men and women of various sizes and 
development were tacked up around it. Magazine photos that had been 
carefully chosen and cut out. Most of the women he recognised from 
various sites, at least by sight. Most of the men he didn't.

He wandered the room, killing time, wondering at the sights these walls 
had witnessed, of the hours in which Laura had sweated away, here at 
these very machines.





Eventually he headed back into the main part of the house, relieved to 
hear that the frantic sex session was finally over. He was in the 
kitchen when Laura walked in.

"Wow! I take back everything I said about virgins."

He turned around at her voice. She bore the self-satisfied glow of the 
post-coital.

She'd wrapped the duvet around her, making a Roman toga of it, hooking 
it over both shoulders. She held it closed from within, not even having 
the consideration to leave a bare arm loosely resting above the folds.

"He's all better then?"

She pulled a lustfully smug expression. "Better, yeah, good word. 
Believe me babe, he's doing just fine!"

"Is it OK to... you know. I mean, after he was... by the demon... 
repeatedly!"

She waved a hand, a dismissive gesture of reassurance. The movement 
flapped the duvet tantalisingly but failed to reveal any glimpse of 
flesh beneath.

"Not an issue. In fact, in this case as with most others, sex is very 
healthy and beneficial. Not only is it good for the mind and soul but 
all those endorphins are released. It's good for pain relief, relieving 
stress both generally and of course sexual tension. Good for the heart 
both literally and metaphorically, it's a really good cardiovascular 
exercise, great for burning calories and improving core strength. It 
helps you get a good night sleep and even helps boost your immunity 
system."

"You're an advocate then?"

"As much as possible as often as possible."

"So the fact that Chyou used it to drain him..."

"To be honest, the more healthy sex he has, the better to undo the 
damage she's done to his mind and his soul. Don't confuse body and 
spirit here. He might be physically exhausted but that can be cured with 
a subtle spell. It's his psychic energy that needs tending to and the 
best way to do that is to reinforce those pathways I've already laid out 
in his mind. I prescribe sex. As much as his body can take."

As if on cue, a very weary looking Simon stumbled into the room. A hand 
rubbing his face as though not quite awake, as though not quite aware of 
anything around him.

Sotto, Laura hissed quickly at Richard. "What's his name?"

"Simon," Richard told her, just a little annoyed.

Laura beamed broadly at the shambling, barely conscious boy. He was 
dressed in the robe. It had been a cheap and thin piece of material when 
first stolen. It now looked worse for wear, tatty and somewhat sodden.

"Simon," Laura cooed, going up to him and wrapping an arm about him, 
enveloping him within the cosy nest of her duvet. "How are you feeling?"

He smiled back, expressing genuine joy and tenderness at seeing her. 
"Hey," he cooed sleepily. "If it isn't the wanton witch of the west."

"You had us worried for a while. Do you remember anything about the 
demon?"

"Odd flashes of memory, like fragments of a nightmare."

"Well you've endured a lot, but don't worry, you are going to be just 
fine. Trust me, I'm an expert in these matters."

"You ain't kidding!"

She giggled. "Well, I am going to take a shower," she told him 
seductively. "Wanna join me?" She turned about and left the room, a 
coquettish glance over her shoulder as she headed to the stairs.

"I'm just going to take a quick shower," Simon told Richard, gesturing 
after the departing figure. Then he sprinted to catch her up.

Richard closed the door on the sound of provocative giggling. He sat 
down and tried not to weep.





He'd slept a little, the sofa reasonably comfortable. But the sound of 
the shower and the noisy sex within still carried throughout the house. 
It wasn't so loud as to drown out all else, but it was the fact of it 
that so kept Richard from any rest and relaxation. He'd sleep eventually, 
he knew, his body would simply crash out. 

He helped himself to food, finding a large bowl of pre-prepared chicken 
salad in the fridge.

This time it was Richard walking in on him. He was dressed finally. He 
had on a T-shirt that was woefully loose and baggy on him, more used to 
a broader and fuller chest. It was old and very well loved, a picture of 
She-Ra on the front. It made Richard feel even more fondness for Laura.

Simon also wore a pair of jeans that at least he could managed without a 
belt, although Richard imagined they were used to being stretched an 
awful lot tighter around Laura's powerhouse thighs.

"Hey dude," Simon greeted.

"You OK?"

"Oh yeah, I'm doing just fine. Can you believe this chick!"

"She is pretty unbelievable," Richard conceded, his voice flat.

"I mean, I wake up and we're doing it, we're just fucking doing it!"

"Yeah, I was there."

"I know. How wild is that! I always said we share everything. Never 
thought we'd share my first time too."

"Well, share isn't quite..."

"But can you believe her body! The girl has got an unbelievable body!"

"She is pretty unbelievable," Richard repeated, just as flatly.

"I mean, the tits on her! Seriously they have to be the best tits this 
side of the fucking... fucking anywhere!"

For all the world as if he were an expert, Richard thought bitterly to 
himself. As if his experience wasn't limited to a clumsy grope, Lindsey 
Cooper (admittedly the tit fantasy of every hetro guy in their school, 
let alone their class) letting him cop a feel after the school disco, 
under her sweater but over her bra. Still, that was more than Richard 
had ever got. Simon always was the first of them to experience anything 
new. And now...

Anyway, he was right, Richard had to admit. They were the best tits this 
side of... well, fucking anywhere.

"And, for a girl, she's got incredible muscles," Simon announced 
blithely. "I swear, she's built like a man. I grabbed hold of her arm 
and it was like she had a cannonball in there!"

Richard felt his pulse hammering in his neck as this particular topic 
came up. He'd known Simon most of his life, but there was one particular 
subject that had never been discussed - that of Richard's lust for 
body-built women. It was something that shamed him, a perversion and 
fetish that he knew his friend would neither share nor understand.

"You have all these pre-conceived notions about muscular women, but she 
totally shatters them. She is sexy as hell, despite being more built and 
developed than a fucking brickie! I swear, her biceps! They were like 
coconuts."

"What, brown and hairy?" Richard sneered. The words just came out. He 
didn't mean to be so scornful, especially with Simon being so positive 
about a subject that was so close to his heart, but the habit of 
protecting his secret was so ingrained that it was an instinctive 
defence.

Simon rolled his eyes. It was his turn to be scornful. "No," he said 
sharply, "I mean that they were as big and as round as coconuts. 
Seriously, can you even get your head around the fact - a woman with 
biceps like that? Teenage girl even!"

"It is extraordinary," Richard agreed carefully.

"And actually, they're hard like coconuts too. I mean really solid. This 
girl is strong - really strong. You can't believe how strong she is. 
It's weird, I mean, to say that, you'd think she'd be all masculine and 
ugly. But she isn't like that at all. You've seen her, you know what I'm 
talking about. She is so beautiful and so curvaceous and you'd never 
even know she has muscles to just look at her. But when she strips off, 
you wouldn't even recognise her.

"I never even suspected that biceps could be sexy. Seriously, believe me, 
they feel so amazing. You should get her to flex her arms for you, I 
guarantee it will change your life forever. When she comes down ask her 
to let you feel them. You won't be sorry."

Richard thought he could guess what would happen if he asked Laura to 
flex for him or let him feel her biceps. Still maybe Simon could 
persuade her to give him a quick show. That cheered him a little.

"I don't care what muscles on a woman look like," Simon continued. "To 
actually have sex with a woman like that is so sexy. The feel of her 
body is unlike anything you can even imagine."

Imagine? Yes, he'd imagined it alright.

"She fucks like a demon." He thought about this for a second and then 
laughed. "And I should know!" He sighed wistfully. "The girl is 
undoubtedly the sexiest babe I've ever met."

"Laura," Richard said having just realised something. "Her name is 
Laura."

Simon shrugged, waving a careless hand dismissively. "Whatever her name 
is, I think I'm in love!"

Richard shuddered inwardly. His friend totally failed to notice however, 
his face breaking into a soft, slow grin. 

"Laura," he intoned softly and slowly to himself, happiness spreading 
through his body at the utterance. "Laura!" as if the word itself 
thrilled him.





Laura herself appeared presently, looking fresh and clean and positively 
revitalised. Hair damp and scruffy but looking no less adorable for it.

When she walked, the heavy clump of her steps drew their attention to 
her heavy boots. She'd dressed in combat trousers that disguised the 
powerful bulging of her legs. A black vest was high cut at her throat 
and clung to her chest sinfully tight. It was visible beneath the loose 
fitting tracksuit top which was unzipped down to her stomach. Her large 
black-clad breasts pushed outward vast and proud, the lines of a sport-
bra visible through the tight vest.

She noticed Richard's helpless scrutiny and pulled the loose flaps of 
the tracksuit top around her chest, placing her breasts inside it. She 
did at least leave it unzipped though. The tracksuit was red and white 
and bore a sports logo he didn't recognise. 

She reached up and pulled her hair into a smart and functional pony-tail. 
Despite just having being caught ogling her chest, Richard couldn't stop 
himself now glancing hopefully along her sleeves as she did this. The 
fabric was however too spacious and too fitted to its own style to 
expose the shape of the muscles housed within.

"Hello boys," she cooed.

"My God, it's G.I. Jane!" Simon gasped playfully. "Can you do those one-
arm push-ups? You know, like she does in the movie?"

Laura grinned flirtatiously. "You'd be amazed what I can do with one 
arm!"

"Like what?" Simon insisted, just as suggestively.

She actually stopped and thought for a moment. Then she grinned evilly 
at him. "Are you sure you want to see?"

"Anything you have to show me, I wouldn't miss for the world," he 
assured her.

She stepped up, lifting one arm like a witch summoning magic out from 
the palm of her hand. There was a crackle of static-like energy, snakes 
of invisible tendrils sensed only because of their exceptional potency.

She put her hand in the centre of his chest and drove the magic into him.

Simon bucked as though struck with a hammer, limbs jerking, breath 
shaken from his lungs, his whole body going into spasm.

He fell back against the wall and slid slowly to the ground, his body 
quaking as he did so.

From the stupid, glazed over expression of sheer bliss he wore, it was 
evident that the experience was not an unpleasant one.

He let out a single ecstatic moan before passing out - his body 
continuing to quiver for several seconds after he was already clearly 
unconscious.

Richard watched this performance slightly taken aback. He regarded his 
unconscious friend whose dumb smile was only now beginning to fade. He 
turned to the very satisfied looking witch. She was shaking her fingers 
loose, energy still fizzing and popping from them.

"You just made him orgasm, didn't you."

"As much as possible as often as possible," she reminded him.

"Did you just put him into another coma?"

"No!" she huffed. Then shrugged sheepishly. "I think I let him have it a 
little heavier than I was intending to but it's nothing to worry over. 
He probably needs the sleep anyway." And Richard couldn't help noting a 
certain wicked pride she took in this last statement. It made his heart 
and loin both give a pleasant shudder.

She crouched down to scoop him into her strong arms and she carried him 
into the living room to put him comfortably onto the large, soft couch.

"How old is he?" Laura asked, but she interrupted before Richard could 
answer. "No, don't tell me, probably best I don't know!"

"I don't think we're too much younger than you."

"He does look sweet while he's sleeping though."

Richard couldn't quite see it himself. What he could see however was the 
slightly gooey way in which she looked at his friend. Muscle-bound 
body-built babe she might be - monster hunting warrior witch she might be 
- but she was also still a teenage girl it would seem.

"I told him to grab a T-shirt and he picked my She-Ra shirt," she said, 
voice melting with girlish affection. "And then he said, 'I think this 
is appropriate.'"

"Can't fault his logic," Richard agreed.

She crinkled her nose playfully. 

"Or his taste," he added ruefully.

"Did he say anything about me?" she asked and Richard could actually see 
the self-aware wincing she made at the cliche of asking this question. 
But she could no more stop herself from asking it however than Richard 
could stop himself scrutinising her sleeved upper arm every time she 
made any sort of motion that might potentially flex it.

"Well, he did say you have biceps like coconuts," he told her.

"Sweet of him to notice," she laughed shyly, even blushing a little. "He 
actually said that? He didn't just mean brown and furry, right?"

"No, I checked. He was talking about the size and shape."

"I got the impression he wasn't really into muscles. More of a boob 
man." Then she laughed. "Especially considering the shower we've just 
had." She placed a hand against her bosom. "Seriously, I doubt they've 
ever been so clean!"

It was Richard's turn to blush. "To be honest I think he was genuinely 
awed by your body - and who can blame him. He's not a muscle fan like I 
am but I don't think that matters. Even if he didn't find your muscles 
every bit as sexy as the rest of you, then it doesn't even matter 
because he's already fallen for you anyway."

"Honestly?"

"I think he's in love with you, every bit as much as I am."

Laura looked at him, eyes huge and wet and warm. She smiled with such 
emotion, such genuine feeling that Richard felt his own eyes prickle.

"Thank you."

And Richard felt for the first time a hope that his friends might work 
it out between them after all. It did seem to be what they both wanted.

"I was just wondering," he said slowly, "the coconut thing..."

"Yes...?" she asked, her voice rich with humorous suspicion.

"I was just curious as to whether he was exaggerating or not."

Laura smiled slyly at him. "Are you asking me to tell you or are you 
asking me to demonstrate?" 

Richard blushed deeper but grinned back at her. "Well, in an ideal 
world..."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Jesus, you never give up, do you?"

"Well, hope springs eternal."

"I mean, if I had big boobs would you constantly be asking to see and 
feel them all the time?"

He thought about pointing out that she did in fact have very big boobs 
and that he'd love to both see and feel them. He didn't though, fairly 
certain that she was already quite aware of both facts.

She looked at him as if daring him to say it. He matched her stern 
expression and they held each other's gaze until they both dissolved 
into childish giggling. It was good to relieve the tension.

She poked a finger at his chest. "If we're gonna be friends, you have to 
get past this obsession with me."

"I don't have an obsession with you," Richard protested.

"No?" she asked, sounding dubious.

She raised one arm out to the side, pumping it into a bicep flex.

Richard stared, wide eyed. The tracksuit sleeves were concealing, and, 
Richard had begun to figure from her wardrobe selections, doubtless 
chosen for that very fact, but there was only so much that could be 
hidden.

Up close, and with a deliberate flex, the ballooning shape of the huge 
round muscle impressed itself through the sleeve, raising the stiff 
material into a swelling hillock.

Agog, jaw slack and whining with uncontainable lust, Richard reached for 
the giant peak. The mighty arm moved like lightning however. Laura 
caught him by the wrist, stopping him fast. 

She grinned smugly. "Not obsessed, huh?" and she forced his arm back in 
a brutal show of strength.

Keeping his voice and demeanour dry despite the pain, he remarked, "keep 
manhandling me like that and you ain't gonna do much to cure it!"

She laughed and released him, giving him an affectionate slap on the arm.

"You like muscle-chicks, I get that. I like that quality in men, I 
really do! Just cool it a little, that's all. No woman wants to be 
thought of as a sex object." Then she corrected herself. "Just a sex 
object."

"Fine," he assured her. "Point taken."

Laura sighed. "Well, I have work to do," she told him regretfully. "I 
need to prepare for our next encounter with Chyou."

"Can I help?" he offered, not sure of what he could do but more than 
willing to offer any sort of assistance.

"Yeah, you can get some sleep too. You need the rest."

"I don't know if I can."

"You want me to put you out? I know milder spells than the one I used on 
Simon. It doesn't have to be quite so... dramatic."

"Well, I have to say, it didn't look entirely unpleasant," he admitted. 
The idea of receiving an orgasm from Laura, however she accomplished it, 
had his pulse stammering in his neck again.

She grinned, lifting her hand, fingers crackling with potent energy. 
"Sure," she said, entirely sincerely. "I'll do that to you if you want 
me to."

Richard was seriously tempted. But he just sighed. "No, I'll be OK. I'll 
just read a book or something. Relax a little. I'm sure sleep will catch 
up."

He remembered what she had been reading in the shop, a novel by his 
favourite horror author. He remembered being shocked that such a pretty, 
fey young thing would be into something so graphic and repellent. Now 
that he knew her a little better, he thought it entirely fitting that 
she would be a fan of such a writer. He asked to borrow one.

"Actually, have you ever read any Kara Minnet?"

"Who?"

Laura's face lit up in absolute joy. "Oh my God, you are going to love 
her!"

She raced away, positively bouncing with excitement. She returned and 
threw him a very well thumbed paperback.

"She writes these pulpy, hack thrillers - hyper-violent - but she's got 
a real fetish for muscle-bound women beating on very weak men. I swear 
every dozen pages or so there's another description of some uber-chick 
picking on a guy half her size and strength."

Richard opened the novel at random and read a passage.

     Screaming in fury she began to pound the man, fists falling 
     upon his helpless body. Her great muscles powered her blows 
     with a savagery that would not be contained. The bouncers fell 
     upon her, desperately trying to pull her free before assault 
     turned into murder but they were no match for her exceptional
     physicality.

Wide-eyed, unable to believe what he was reading Richard looked from the 
book to Laura. She was smiling knowingly. Dumbstruck he looked back at 
the book, skipping down the page.

     The last bouncer scrabbled away on his ass, desperate to 
     escape the fate of his fallen brothers. He scuttled backwards
     like a spider but it was too late she was already on him. 
     Grabbing his ankle she pulled the man towards her, lifting him
     thrashing and bucking up into the air. Suspended there by one
     foot, she let him dangle a few moments, her massive arm easily 
     holding him aloft.

He opened the book elsewhere and began reading another random passage, 
skimming through until he found a good bit. It took him less than a page 
to reach.

     Ignoring the man's feeble protests she easily held him pinned, 
     her mighty arm more than a match for both of his. She reached 
     down and grasped the squirming man's groin with her free hand, 
     delighted by what she found; his tremendous cock was fully 
     engorged. The Viagra was having the desired effect. It didn't 
     matter that he was repelled by her enormous muscles, he would 
     still be 'up' for it tonight whether he wanted it or not. 

"Yeah, I thought you'd like her books. You can borrow it if you want."

"Thanks," he said, subdued. He looked back up at Laura, surprised. She 
was into horror, that was fine, he could appreciate that some girls like 
dark material just as much as boys. But this? 

"I'm just curious," he said, gesturing to the novel held in his faintly 
quivering hands. "But what do you get from this?"

Laura laughed playfully. "Ideas!"





Richard did finally manage to sleep in the end, curling up in the 
armchair, dropping the half-finished novel into his lap. When he awoke 
he was surrounded by female bodybuilders. He looked around the room 
trying to work out whether he was still dreaming or if maybe they'd all 
been killed by the demon and he was now in heaven.

They were still in Laura's living room. He'd been moved to the couch and 
allowed to stretch out comfortably. He was sharing it with a massively 
muscled woman. She was sitting at the other end with his feet on her lap 
so as not to disturb his sleep. She was reading the Kara Minnet novel 
Laura had lent him.

The woman was maybe thirty, her sleeveless combat vest revealing thickly 
muscled and intricately tattooed arms. There was so much ink across her 
powerful limbs there appeared to be more colour than fleshtone. She was 
richly tanned, her hair was jet black and shorn in a savage buzz cut. 
Her face was severe and savage in a scary kind of way but she still had 
a strong, noble beauty. There were piercing holes in her ears and nose 
but she was currently unadorned. Her legs were powerfully muscular, clad 
in tight combat style jeans - the type bought from army surplus stores 
rather than fashion boutiques.

She reminded him of the kind of muscle-babe who got cast in action b-
movies - war stories or cheesy sci-fi. He could easily imagine those 
powerful arms wielding a huge machine gun as she ploughed bullets into 
some exotic urban or jungle location. 

"You awake?" she asked, and gave him a smile that revealed more 
gentility and openness that he would have previously credited her 
capable of. "Hey, Laura, sleeping beauty stirs!"

Richard sat up. "Hi," he said, woozy as much from shock as from sleep.

Two more bodybuilders sat on the floor with their backs to him, arms 
wrapped around the knees clutched to their chests. They faced the TV 
which currently wasted its HD reception, 52 inch screen on a cheap teen 
soap opera that Richard liked to pretend he was above watching. The 
women were both T-shirted, broad backs stretching the fabric tight, 
shoulders mighty and powerful. Both women had their blonde hair in tight, 
tidy dos. Neither turned to greet him.

Another bodybuilder sat in an armchair. More combat jeans, a skin-tight 
orange top revealing a body of tremendous development, huge muscles and 
bulky weight rather than the slimmed down competition look. A wide, 
meaty torso, complete with full breasts jutting straight out in 
unabashed glory.

She was hiding behind a newspaper. It was the evening paper, he guessed, 
the morning one wouldn't have had time to print the two headlines: 
"Murder and Mass Disappearance at Hotel"; "Four Teens Torn Apart on 
Recreation Ground".

Even so, Richard was more distracted by the arms holding the paper aloft. 
The orange sleeves were thin and tight, like a second skin, and revealed 
every slope and contour of her huge, beefy arms. Even when exerting no 
more effort than holding up the newspaper, the heavy slabs of muscles 
stood out - weighty and tremendously powerful.

She glanced over the top, peering at Richard with idle curiosity. She 
was pretty, with a round friendly face. Her hair was unnaturally red, 
woven into dreadlocks, a slightly odd look but appealing nonetheless. 
She returned to her paper without comment.

"I'm Richard," he told the woman at his feet, the only one who wasn't 
ignoring him. The woman took his proffered hand and shook it with a firm 
and deliberate grip.

In his peripheral gaze there was a ripple of motion in the darkly tanned, 
thick and writhing arms. Somehow, heaven only knew how, he managed to 
maintain eye contact and not lech at the sight of her mighty biceps and 
triceps as they made her tattoos dance. 


"I'm Gabriella," she told him with a smile. She gestured to the girls 
sitting on the floor watching TV. "The twins are Gina and Cassie." The 
two women each lifted an arm in greeting without bothering to so much as 
turn their heads. Richard's pulse quickened at the albeit brief sight of 
their arms - thick with powerful muscles - rising and dropping in 
careless salute. 

"And the giant in the armchair is Amanda," Gabriella concluded.

Amanda brought the paper back down just long enough to smile and nod 
before retreating behind it once more. She looked to be about 
Gabriella's age, thirty or so. The twins' age he couldn't tell from the 
back.

Richard stretched out, his back cracking audibly. He pulled his feet 
from Gabriella's lap with an apologetic look. She smiled, held up the 
book. "Never really gotten into Kara Minnet before but this one is 
actually pretty entertaining in its own twisted kind of way. I've never 
read a book where the leading heroine is actually a serial killer! Have 
you been into her long?"

"Not long," Richard admitted, still a little bemused, wondering who the 
hell all these women were.

"Actually Laura's a huge fan of hers," she remembered suddenly. "Says a 
lot about Laura if you ask me." She smiled. "I'm just kidding honestly. 
I'm not much into horror myself, too much of a wimp."

Richard regarded the woman - butch-looking even without the bulging arms 
and muscle-bound body. 

"Not the first word I'd have thought of to describe you, I must admit," 
he said.

She grinned and raised a playful eyebrow. She was not above flirting 
with a teenage boy it would appear.

Laura appeared, still managing to look airy and girly, even wearing 
combat trousers and tracksuit. "Richard!" she exclaimed, as though 
genuinely delighted to see him. "How you doing? You hungry? We got take-
out. Do you like Indian?"

Still visibly not quite with it, he let Laura lead him to the kitchen 
where foil dishes offered a variety of richly flavoursome concoctions.

She gave him a plate and a napkin.

"Laura?"

"What, not hungry?"

Actually, he was ravenous. He piled rice and curry onto his plate, tore 
himself a generous hunk of bread.

"Who are the Fox Force Five?"

She grinned, getting the reference. "A little backup, that's all. We've 
going to need to split up to find Chyou. You know what ley lines are?"

"Some New Age hippy bullshit," he suggested.

She gave him a look that quickly shut him up.

"What they actually are is more subtle and complex than commonplace 
mass-market spiritualism for gullible wicca wannabes would imply - be 
they hippy or otherwise," and the sternness of her voice at this point 
suggested which bit of his scornful assassination she'd actually 
objected to.

"We hurt Chyou in the battle earlier. We hurt her badly, speared her 
heart. The physical form she reconstituted herself into needs to be 
regenerated or she will die."

Richard didn't point out that the 'we' in question was exclusively her. 
All he'd managed to do in the fight was get himself punched in the face, 
something he'd only survived with Laura's magical intervention.

"With the wounds she has, the energy she stole from Simon will only keep 
her going a day at most. Which means tonight is her only opportunity to 
regenerate. The only way she can save herself is to perform a ritual 
that will allow mystical energy to heal the damage we inflicted."

"What if she grabs another victim, drains them like she did Simon."

"She can't - she's already too weak. Her only hope is with the ritual 
and that can only be done at the convergence of certain ley lines."

"So we go there, she has no choice but to turn up, we finish her off?"

"That's the plan. There are three possible places she can reach where 
the ritual can be performed. Three convergences. We have to guard them 
all."

"Hence the back up?"

"Hence Fox Force Five," she agreed.

"Are they witches too?"

Laura looked surprised by the question. "Of course they are. Can't you 
tell?"

"I can tell they're bodybuilders," he offered.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I thought you'd appreciate that. But can't 
you feel the power. They emit it from every pore - can't you feel their 
potency?"

"I thought that was just sex appeal."

She laughed. "Yes, they're all witches. Those with an affinity for magic 
can normally sense others. Like minds and all that. You're already 
fairly well attuned, you'll get used to it yourself the more time you 
spend around witches and mages."

Richard liked the thought that he'd be spending more time around Laura 
and her friends.

"I can sense it in you," she told him.

Richard felt himself blush. "Really?"

"Simon's got real potential, but so do you."

"So are all witches bodybuilders? It just seems a bit of a coincidence. 
A very pleasant coincidence, but, you know..."

Laura laughed again, thinking about the question. "Erm, yeah, I guess it 
is," and she seemed to seriously try and think of a way to explain the 
answer. "They're not connected in that both things are separate and you 
can be either without the other," she began.

"But...?"

"But, yeah, I guess there are some connections. I mean, I know of 
witches who don't bodybuild or do martial arts or anything, and I know 
loads of bodybuilders who don't know anything about magic. I guess it's 
just that the compulsion to strive to learn magic - to have that level 
of discipline and to achieve that kind power - it's the same quality in 
a person that makes them want to maximise their physical potential too. 
Whatever it is that drives someone - compels them - that kind of 
uncompromising perfectionism towards a higher level is the same yearning 
for accomplishment, whether it's physical or magical."

"The kind of chick that wants to and is capable of becoming a witch is 
the same kind of chick that wants to and is capable of building her 
body," he summarised.

"Yeah, basically. And it does tend to fall upon witches and mages to 
battle the forces of evil when they crop up," she added. "We do have to 
be physical as well as spiritual."

Laura's body language changed subtly. She glanced towards the living 
room where the others were congregated. She half closed the door but 
didn't actually shut it, doubtless concerned it would attract suspicious 
attention.

"Don't tell the others," she began.

She opened a cupboard and showed him the thin metal relics she'd 
salvaged from the battlefield. She handed them to him.

Richard took them with the same reverence Laura was showing. He gasped 
at recognising them.

"Last time I saw these, they were wrapped around the body of a demon," 
he said. "I didn't see them in the hotel room."

"They were there, just cast away. I took them before we left."

"I don't remember."

"You were kind of out of it."

Richard held up the bra. A few threads of metal, beautifully elaborate, 
bejewelled and ornate. It had no encircling strap, it didn't join at the 
back, just had cups that gripped the vast breasts and hooks that clasped 
her mighty shoulders.

The thong. He shuddered, unable to believe he was holding something 
that... He swore in awe and struggled to contain himself.

The snake was the last piece, a moulded metal rope that he remembered 
wrapped around her arm.

"I tried them on," Laura admitted, uttering the words low as though 
confessing a terrible secret.

"Really?"

He couldn't help but picture that! His imagination was good and the 
image conjured in his mind was a striking one. There was power in it. 
But it didn't quite fit. Laura was big, or so he gathered at least. But 
Chyou was a giant, even at five foot four.

"They fit me!" Laura insisted, as though reading his doubt.

Richard held the bra up again. Laura's breasts were considerable, as 
were the demon's, but Chyou had also been so broad that she could have 
crushed two men in a single bearhug. 

He shrugged. It fit? He supposed he could believe it. Laura was never 
going to be accused of anorexia and it wasn't as if she'd demonstrated 

the compulsory poses for him. He didn't know how broad she actually was.

"Really?" he asked.

"OK," she admitted finally, "the snake was kinda loose."

He took it now and slipped his own arm inside, holding it from beneath 
to demonstrate a huge empty arch stretching high above his bicep.

"Not that loose though," she giggled. "At full flex I can fill it - just 
- but she just wears it like that with her arm relaxed. It has a natural 
give in the metal that allows it to open out any time her arm bulges."

Richard placed his fist inside the loop too. It still wasn't tight 
against his arm. Nowhere close. Was she serious? Did her bicep really 
fill a gap that large? 

"Well, she's a lot older than you," he consoled. "You're still just a 
teen. I'm sure you'll get there."

"Thanks."

"Are they dangerous?" he asked, handing them back.

"Probably not, but I don't want to tell the others anyway. They wouldn't 
understand, they certainly wouldn't want me trying them on. Corrupting 
influences can be subtle."

"There's power in them then?"

"Residual. And only by association. I did feel a tingle wearing it, but 
nothing to worry about. Nothing I could use even. Pity she wasn't 
originally ensnared when she was in full dress. Ancient Chinese battle 
armour. That would be a prize to claim!"

Laura turned her head to the front room, quickly replaced the costume 
back in the cupboard. In the background Richard heard a familiar closing 
theme tune. 

He turned at movement and just stared agog at the sight of two identical 
visions of beauty. The pretty blonde twins Gina and Cassie. They each 
had large blue eyes, delicately highlighted with makeup. They were 
younger than Laura, closer to his age, but must have spent a large 
proportion of their lives inside a gym if their bulging physiques were 
anything to go by. 

Both girls were T-shirted and both T-shirts were under considerable 
strain. Not from their modest, if cute young breasts, but from the 
awesome broad cascade of muscles that rippled across their bodies in 
harmony with every motion they made. Their sleeves were only short, 
almost to the shoulders, but were filled to capacity and indeed under 
considerable strain themselves, just from the thick might of those arms 
unflexed.

Gina wore a green shirt with the slogan: "I'm not Gina" a custom print, 
either designed to mess with people or she'd borrowed her sister's top. 
Cassie had a darker shirt with the bolder legend: "who needs big tits 
when you've got HUGE guns!"

They both wore jeans that may as well have been bodypaint they were so 
tight, making Richard wonder how they had ever managed to squeeze such 
powerfully muscled legs into them in the first place.

"You must be Cassie then," Richard said to Gina. 

She regarded him with a typically teenage indignant huff. "I'm Gina - 
she's Cassie."

"I'm Cassie," Cassie insisted, her voice overlapping her twin's.

"But..." he began, but decided not to get suckered into it.

Gina grinned and challenged him on it anyway, too glad to finally have 
someone take the bait. "Do you always believe what's written on T-shirts? 
If I thought that then I'd believe that death metal rocks and that 
beauty's in the eye of the beer-holder."

He smiled. "If you two are identical, and you're both bodybuilders..."

They didn't even wait for him to finish, just exchanged a quick glance 
and in perfect synchrony created a gap between them while each bringing 
an arm up until their elbows touched, their biceps flexed.

Richard stared in awed shock. He'd seen some sights in his life, mostly 
in the last fifteen hours it had to be said, but nothing could possibly 
have prepared him for this. Two equally mountainous peaks - sweetly 
sloped, solid stacked salutes. 

Then their fingers linked as though in a game of mercy and the twins 
snarled playfully at each other, beginning to struggle. The effort and 
strain turned their bulging muscles into quivering, twitching bundles of 
rippling motion, popping and swelling with each exertion, as they well 
knew it would.

Richard absorbed the sight in a helpless stunned silence. He couldn't 
have moved if he tried. Had there been an explosion behind him at that 
moment, he wouldn't have looked away. Probably wouldn't even have 
blinked.

Laura reached up delicately and with a firm finger she pushed Richard's 
chin up, closing his mouth. She patted him lightly on the cheek as 
though consoling him.

The twins erupted into giggles, dropping the poses. They walked past the 
dumbstruck boy to help themselves to more food. Gina glanced 
coquettishly over her shoulder at him. Her sister whispered something in 
her ear and both girls burst into fresh giggling.

"Oh my God!" he breathed, unable to articulate anything else.

"You didn't need to do that to him," Laura scolded. "The poor boy's been 
through enough already. Look at him, he can't even speak."

"Oh my God!"

Laura led him back into the living room where Simon was armwrestling 
with Gabriella. More accurately, Gabriella was armwrestling, adopting 
the traditional position, sitting neatly at the table, her arm extended, 
elbow down against the tabletop. 

Simon had begun like this too but quickly realised that he hadn't a hope 
in hell of budging her a single inch. Gabriella, for her part wasn't 
pushing back against him, instead merely holding her place in an upright 
neutral, 'giving him a fighting chance' as she put it. She prevented him 
from pushing her down but didn't retaliate. It was not so much giving 
him a chance as taking the opportunity to ritually humiliate him, 
demonstrating without a doubt just how superior her strength was.

And Simon seemed to be having great fun. He'd braced his body behind the 
opposite end of the table, wrapped his legs around the table leg and was 
using both arms, locked around her hand and wrist, tugging with all his 
might. Still he couldn't shift her arm a single degree.

"What's wrong with him," Gabriella said, ignoring her struggling 
opponent to nod towards the still dazed Richard.

"The twins decided to give him a little show. Twin peaks, you could 
say."

Gabriella smiled and nodded, understanding completely.

"Laura," Simon gasped, jerking at the woman's arm. "Babe, your friends 
are really cool, but they cheat at armwrestling."

"I'm cheating?" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Yeah," Simon grinned. "You've got a huge advantage. Look, she's using 
this!" And he grasped the hard round boulder that was her bicep. He 
wrapped his fingers around as much of its tremendous spherical surface 
as his hand could contain, squeezing as though as though expertly 
testing a melon for ripeness. "I mean, seriously. How am I supposed to 
compete? I don't stand a chance."

He laughed, breathless, giving the massive bicep one last appreciative 
pat before backing off. "It's just not fair."

The women laughed.

Richard felt even more dazed than ever. He tried to speak, wanted to 
have a turn at stroking the giant bicep, but Gabriella had dropped the 
armwrestling pose and the mighty peak subsided back into the thick 
writhing mass of her tattooed arm. Even so, he was sure she'd allow him 
a quick feel if he only asked her - if he could only remember how to 
talk.

He'd missed his chance however.

Laura's countenance changed. She may have been one of the younger 
witches, but she appeared to be in charge - at least on this particular 
occasion. It wasn't so much leadership as how the others treated her, 
responding with total respect.

She was back to business, clapping her hands, commanding their attention.

The twins appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, still eating. Amanda 
rose from her seat and joined them. Richard discovered why Gabriella had 
called her a giant. It was because Amanda was a giant. Well over six 
feet tall and with a build that even on a professional wrestler would 
still have garnered awe and wonder at its abundance. The words 'size' 
and 'strength' had never been so inadequate.

"OK, guys," Laura said. "It's time to get it together. Dusk approaches. 
We've got a demon to kill.

"And Simon, change the T-shirt before we go."

"Huh?"

Laura smiled, but her expression was still a stern one, her tone strict. 
"Take off my She-Ra shirt!"





Laura handed the boys weapons.

"These are for defence only," she instructed them clearly. "If we see 
Chyou, I will fight her, you two retreat to a safe distance and wait for 
the others."

It looked to Richard like a stone-age tool. A small green crystal, crude 
and clumsy looking, attached by some unknown method to a stick. The wood 
was a thick branch that was somehow both unprocessed and yet unnaturally 
uniform. It was perfectly straight, two feet long and as thick as a 
beercan; its circumference was even throughout its length with no sign 
of tapering or natural divergence of growth. 

Halfway down and again attached without obvious means to the wooden rod 
was a fist sized rock. Examining it carefully, Richard saw the wood and 
stone seemed to have grown into one another, despite all prior knowledge 
that this was impossible. But there was something so undeniably organic 
about the weld.

The rock was solid but upon closer inspection Richard saw that it was 
faintly porous. He'd played with spirit stones before and appreciated 
the concept - a rock that had been mystically honed to resonate with the 
wielders energy and thereby let out a soft, droning hum.

Here the energy was modified into a very different form, directed 
through the rod, condensed and filtered by the crystal into a 
potentially lethal blast. Effectively, Laura had built two demon guns.

"Is this the same stuff that was on the mirror?" Richard asked, tapping 
the odd green gem with his fingernail.

"Yes," Laura told him. "Literally. The mirrors aren't much use without 
sunlight so I reformed the crystals."

Simon had a revelation. "This is what she came out of. It's what's left 
of the jade eagle."

"It's not jade," Laura told him.

"But it's what she was in. That's what you're using?"

She shrugged. "It was convenient. Under the circumstances, I hardly 
thought you'd mind."

"Would it be easier to just contain her again?" Richard asked

Laura laughed. "No," she stated unequivocally. "Trust me this is easier, 
especially given how wounded she is already. She won't want to rely on 
magic or psychic energy, not in the state she's in. She'll have to rely 
exclusively on her physical prowess."

The boys exchanged a concerned glance at this revelation. The demon 
warrior was, after all, hardly lacking in that department. 

Laura smiled slyly at them. "Just stay behind me. Everything will be 
fine."

"If you destroy her..." Richard began. He took in her wilful expression 
and corrected himself. "When you destroy her. Kill her body. What 
happens to all that demonic energy? I mean I know she's been psychically 
crippled already or whatever it is, but still."

"Not an issue. It just disperses."

"Really? A sudden release of energy, isn't that called an explosion?" He 
imagined a psychic blast - a shockwave of magical energy overwhelming 
all of them. Like a departing piece of spite, would the demon's death 
put them into a coma like the one that had befallen Simon?

His adrenalin fuelled mind played this scenario out. Did that mean the 
other witches would revive them all with the method Laura had employed? 
If so he hoped for one of the twins. Or both the twins. Hell, he'd be 
more than overjoyed for the tender attentions of any of the witches.

"Really," Laura assured him. "It's not an issue. I mean, where does 
lightening go when it strikes the ground? There's magical energy 
constantly surrounding us every minute of the day. It just takes a witch 
to harness it."

"But she's a demon, isn't it corrupt energy?"

"It's just energy, it doesn't have morality anymore than a sword does. 
It's only what the demon does that's good or evil."

"But..."

"Richard - trust me. It's going to be OK. We're going to be OK. OK? It's 
just the adrenalin getting to you. You're just wound up."

She was right. It was nerves. He sat and put his gun down. He tried to 
relax.

Night had definitely fallen now, the full-colour sunset fading into the 
sparse silvery beauty of starlight. A strong moon, near-full, gave them 
more than enough light to see by, even without the ambient glow of the 
near-by town's nightlife.

They were sat in an unused farmer's field. Richard picked absently at 
bits of grass and weed. 

"I guess he got pissed off with crops being constantly ruined," Laura 
explained to them. "Lots of New-Age types like to pilgrimage here."

"Because of the ley lines," Richard said, nodding sagely.

"The most significant convergence here abouts," Laura agreed. "And for 
some reason it draws the crop-circle crowd too."

"You mean there's been crop circles here?" Simon said, sounding wowed.

Both the others turned to look at him scornfully.

"You do know what crop circles are, don't you?" Laura said.

"Well, no one knows, do they?" Simon hedged, losing his normal 
confidence. "I mean, I know it's probably not actually aliens. But isn't 
it one of those unexplained phenomena?"

"Yeah, more like stoned students with a plank of wood and a knack for 
geometry," Laura sneered.

Simon's face dropped. "Isn't that just a cover story? I thought as a 
witch you'd be more open to more... well, esoteric understandings."

"As a witch I have a sharper appreciation for and observation of the 
natural world and all it's capable of, and a far more objective 
standpoint upon which to draw my conclusions."

She grinned and ruffled his hair playfully. "Not every explanation of 
the fantastic has to be a supernatural one," she told him.

"Occam's Razor," Richard pointed out, glad to feel knowledgeable about 
something for a change.

They were ignoring him however. He saw that Simon had snatched Laura's 
hand from his hair and she was now playfully wrestling it back. Neither 
was really struggling but it was still clear which of them was the 
strongest. Simon appeared to be as thrilled by this fact as Richard 
himself would have been, in his place.

He sighed and carried on playing with the grass.

The young couple giggled and Laura pushed Simon over, accidentally 
overdoing it. She gasped in sudden horror as he fell back too heavily. 
When she went to help him back up, he instead grabbed her proffered arms 
and pulled her down onto him.

Giggling more, Laura straightened herself and pinned him down, sitting 
astride him and keeping his arms trapped across his chest.

Simon struggled, playfully at first and then with greater effort when he 
realised she was using enough strength to genuinely hold him down. He 
squirmed in her grip beginning to really exert himself. Laura just kept 
him trapped, easily overpowering his efforts.

Grinning broadly she watched while he attempted time and again to 
struggle free. It was hopeless however and they both knew it. She was so 
much stronger than him that he could wear himself to exhaustion before 
she so much as broke a sweat.

"Come on," she cooed, "put some muscle into it. Is that the best you can 
do? I'm not even trying here."

He laughed breathless, gasping with the effort.

"You're really struggling to escape," she told him. "Don't you enjoy 
being trapped under me?"

"Yeah, I like it," he panted, "but what I really like is the fact that I 
can struggle with all my might and still be trapped. I don't want to 
escape. I want to feel that I can't escape, no matter how hard I try."

"Aww," she moaned, melting, "that silver tongue of yours."

And she lent herself down to greet it with her own.

They seemed to remember Richard finally, pulling away from each other 
before their caresses became too intimate. They sat up, a little 
shamefaced.

"Ah, to be so young and so in love," Richard mused.

Simon began brushing Laura down, cleaning off the bits of dirt and grass 
that had collected on her tracksuit, despite the fact that he'd been 
underneath in the tussle and was the one really covered. He stroked her 
arm although it really didn't need brushing, grasping as much of the 
meaty triceps as his fingers could reach. She pushed him off, giggling.

Richard rolled his eyes and smiled warmly at the pair. He did feel glad 
for their happiness, he really did, but he was still bitterly jealous of 
his friend's good fortune. 

"Is this bitch coming or what," he hissed.

"Maybe she went to one of the other spots," Simon suggested.

"No," Laura said. "Then whoever was guarding would have called for help. 
No she hasn't shown yet. But she will."





And she did, and it was their position that she chose, and it was Laura 
who sensed her first.

"She's near!" 

"Are you sure," Simon said, leaping to his feet, grabbing his crystal 
gun. He clutched the rock, summoning the energy to charge it.

Laura was also on her feet, her body in a tense but centred stance. Her 
arms were held out a little to the side, muscles bristling, energy 
crackling between her fingers.

Richard happened to be standing behind her and the silhouette of her 
back was broad and intimidating, stretching against even the loose 
material of the tracksuit. He'd never in his life seen anyone look so 
dangerously capable or prepared for violence. Excepting perhaps the 
demon they were here to kill.

Laura was glancing around the field, throwing out her senses, trying to 
be sure.

She zeroed on something, pointing out into the darkness.

"There!"

Richard heard the cry in his head - a savage psychic broadcast. And in 
that momentary joining of minds, he'd sensed Laura's certainty and he 
could see through her senses where Chyou was. And she was here!

Bristling with muscles - just as savage and as potent as ever. Her 
skimpy metal garb had been replaced. 

What had once been a leather jacket now served to cover her torso. She'd 
evidently attempted to wear the coat in the conventional manner but her 
broad back had torn it down from collar to belt, the thick, heavily 
stitched double layer at the bottom all that held the two halves 
together. The sleeves had burst the moment her huge arms had moved 
inside them, splitting apart like a sausage skin stuffed with twice the 
meat it's designed to hold. She'd simply ripped them off realising that 
sleeveless was the only way to go.

She'd then tugged the two sides at the front and tied then together 
between her massive breasts, turning each side into a whole bikini cup. 
Her exposed belly rippled beneath, abdominals rolling with devastating 
musculature.

She'd stolen jeans too, pulling the tough cloth up her tremendous legs. 
They'd suffered the same fate her sleeves had, her thighs unable to be 
contained or restricted. The legs had been ripped off turning them into 
shorts skimpy enough to qualify as a denim thong.

Laura faced the demon and gestured for the boys to fall back but the 
great Chinese warrior was already upon them. In a single bound she fell 
upon Laura before the young witch could even summon her first spell. 

Screaming in fury Chyou began to pound the girl, her great muscles 
powering blows with a savagery that would not be contained.

Richard felt his terror and shock transmuted into energy and before he 
even realised what he was doing the rock seemed to suck his palm against 
it, fingers glued about its rough surface. A gush of unreasoning energy 
streamed from him and the makeshift gun erupted.

The blast would have struck the demon but for Laura spinning her body 
about and tossing the massive woman off of her.

Instead, the green lightening wrapped about the witch's body, lighting 
her up but doing no apparent damage, much to Richard's frantic relief. 

Laura turned to him. "Get out of here!" she ordered.

Simon had much the same reaction as Richard had and a blast of green lit 
energy streaked out from behind Laura. His was better aimed however and 
struck the rising demon, knocking her back down to the ground.

The potency of the weapons was less than the sun-mirrors had been, but 
they were effective enough it would seem.

Laura took advantage of the situation, rushing forward and planting a 
crushing blow onto the downed beast's skull - a punch like a jackhammer.

Richard heard the dull thud of the connection even from where he was 
standing but it wasn't enough to destroy a creature as powerful as Chyou. 
She struck a blow in retaliation, smacking into Laura's belly, sending 
her flying backwards.

Chyou leapt again, streaking forty feet straight up into the air, 
twisting herself about and coming down again like a ballistic missile 
centred on where Laura now gathered herself.

The girl twisted aside at the last minute, leaving a bundle of potent 
magical energy so that when the demon crashed down, a bare moment later, 
she was infused with invasive tendrils of power, sapping her strength 
even further.

Laura flew back into the fray, leading with her fists, pounding the 
shocked and ravaged woman.

The demon was preternaturally strong but Laura had amplified her own 
physical prowess in preparation. Fists powerful enough to smash boulders 
connected with the oriental beauty, slamming repeated blows into face 
and body.

Relentlessly, the young witch punished the mighty beast with every ounce 
of her occult enhanced strength - and she'd hardly been a lightweight 
even before augmenting her brawn.

Chyou tried to fight back, tried to fend off the grievous assault but 
was too overwhelmed by this ferocious young warrior. She tried to time 
her retaliation, rammed an iron fist up into the witch's exposed flank 
as she moved about. 

The young woman's body must have been build of solid muscle, the blow, 
though devastating, failed to fell her. Instead, she just grimaced and 
fought back with renewed intensity. The demon realised this was a battle 
she would not win. It was not an experience she was used to. 

The two witnesses kept their distance as ordered but couldn't help 
staying close enough to see the incredible sight. Laura was not just 
holding her own against this giant muscle-monster, she was utterly 
devastating it.

The fight surely couldn't last much longer - Chyou surely couldn't last 
much longer. Every blow the young witch landed did further damage, 
further devastating the mighty body. Tirelessly, Laura continued to 
smash her mighty muscle-powered fists down into the writhing form of the 
beast.

The minions approached then. But they were expected. 

From all around, the clumsy, shambling zombies closed on them. Laura 
backed away from the savagely brutalised demon. She saw that Simon and 
Richard were still close by.

"I told you two to run," she hissed, though there was little real 
surprise or anger in her voice. She hadn't really expected them to 
abandon her once the fight began, no matter which way it was going. 
"Keep her down," she ordered them.

They nodded and moved closer to the bloody and barely conscious muscle-
woman. It was hard to believe that the all-powerful demon, so great and 
terrible, had been so far and so quickly reduced. But here she was - her 
physical strength outmatched - her demonic power unable to protect her.

Richard focused his will and felt a burst of psychic energy drawn right 
out of him, his very essence powering the gun. A stream of lightening 
shot from his weapon to wrap about Chyou, ravaging her fallen form, like 
something from Ghostbusters. Simon followed suit, giving her a blast 
from his gun. They took turns giving her the odd shock, not allowing her 
time to gather her strength.

Laura faced the closest wave of the stumbling horde. Though mindless, 
physically they were just normal people. Richard wondered whether Laura 
was just going to plough through them, beat them all up by hand. It 
wasn't like she wasn't devastatingly strong enough. But there were so 
many of them. If there was one thing he'd learnt from countless zombie 
movies it was that one zombie wasn't nearly as much of a threat as a 
whole horde were. One zombie could be defeated with relative ease, but 
even the mightiest of warriors would eventually be overwhelmed against a 
large enough mass.

Laura however went down on her knees, placed her hands against her 
temples and began to focus. Ever the one-track mind, Richard looked at 
her arms, bent and tensed as they were. Sure enough - even in the poor 
light - even in the concealing tracksuit - he swore he could see the 
swell of her biceps pumped up, filling even those spacious sleeves to 
capacity, straining against the material.

So distracted was he by the sight that he failed to notice Simon's 
behaviour. While he was busy watching Laura's biceps stretch out her 
sleeves into bulbous mounds, Simon was confronting his tormentor.

Quite a thing to face one who has so savagely and profoundly wounded you, 
especially with the power balance so radically shifted.

Simon was beginning to let his emotions cloud his calm, reasoning mind. 
And here they were battling an ancient Chinese warrior demon, not to 
mention zombie hordes - his reasoning mind was feeling kind of 
unappreciated as it was. Emotions were rising.

Every time he gave the demon a shock, his wrath was further stirred. 
Fear, humiliation, helplessness, now transferred into sheer self-
satisfied fury. All that she had done to him needed to be repaid. As his 
emotions rose, the intensity of the blasts he poured into her writhing 
frame increased - his very wrath fuelling the firepower. Teeth gritted, 
tears flowing, Simon pumped blast after blast into her helpless form.

Whatever Laura was doing meanwhile, had the desired effect. The mass of 
zombies stopped in their tracks. They didn't die or collapse or retreat. 
They just stopped.

All around them, halted men and women, their minds gone, stared mutely 
off into the middle distance, looking like standing coma patients. It 
was eerie and far from reassuring - Richard had no intention of going 
within grabbing reach of any of the creatures. Although they weren't 
attacking, they still looked anything but harmless.

Laura was apparently satisfied that the hordes were sufficiently 
restrained. She stood, finally dropping the staggering pose. Christ - 
and he thought the twins had biceps! 

She pulled at something that had been tied to her belt. "Let's kill this 
bitch!"

They turned back to Chyou and then saw Simon.

His face was a grimace of sheer savagery. Standing barely a foot from 
the now unmoving demon, he was alive with blistering lightening, the 
energy pouring out of him.

"Simon?" Laura said, her voice tender, despite the shock and fear at 
seeing her lover so consumed with primal horror and loathing.

She tossed the object to Richard, who instantly recognised it. A small 
jam jar filled with sand. It's what they'd taken to the hotel in their 
first, aborted assassination attempt.

Laura was gentle as her arms closed about Simon from behind. Gentle but 
insistent. She cooed soothing words into his ear even while she forced 
the weapon out of his hand, ending the relentless stream of savage fire. 
She tossed the gun and held him in a half restraint, half embrace.

She opened her mind, a soft sob of empathy escaping before she reigned 
in her emotions. It was Simon she touched but they'd all been 
psychically aligned previously and Richard could not help but sense it 
as her reassuring mental caresses reached out to sooth the now trembling 
boy. He also couldn't help but sense the bond that was beginning to form 
between them. How could genuine love develop so quickly and so intensely? 
He didn't know, but there was the evidence before him in the form of 
Laura and Simon.

Richard began to make a circle with the sand, careful to lay it thick, 
as specified, leaving no chance of gaps. He made the barrier about two 
feet out from Chyou, unwilling to get any closer. While he did so he 
kept his weapon trained on the unmoving demon-woman, not trusting her 
apparently defeated and helpless form. She was still bulging with huge 
muscles - a physical warning to stay back. He'd witnessed first hand the 
savage damage that abnormal strength could do to the human body. If she 
so much as twitched, he'd let her have it with a blast so severe even 
Simon's fury would look weak by comparison. Never underestimate the 
power of honest and sensible fear.

He did not complete the circle however. Chyou struck before he had the 
opportunity. Three well-placed blasts of psychic savagery; each of them 
were struck in a strategically timed assault.

She was weak - Laura had been right about that, and had doubtless saved 
up this tiny droplet of power for a final, last-ditch strike.

But even so, the force of the blow that struck Richard was almost 
physical in its intensity. So much that he reeled away from it, was 
actually propelled, staggering backwards. But it was towards the demon 
Chyou that he fell, landing bodily on top of the huge, muscle-bound 
woman. She was as still and lifeless as ever.

Laura and Simon had also suffered from the strike. They were mentally 
bonded at the time, open and exposed, and the blast was all the more 
devastating given their vulnerability. Simon collapsed but Laura, a 
capable warrior, steeled herself against the ravaging pain and turned 
towards their assailant.

It was Chyou, the three of them had felt that in the blast, as sure a 
signature as a signet ring. It was also another being - another creature. 
One of the zombies was still animate, still stalking towards them. But 
not a shambling, clumsy mindless beast this - he moved with purpose and 
intent.

"It's her!" Laura called out stalking out to confront the man. He was 
large, bulky and powerfully built. Chyou had a preference for muscular 
bodies it seemed, or maybe she just stuck to what she was used to, 
although, that said, this man was nothing compared to the tremendous 
goliath that Laura had just beaten to a pulp. Given his size however, it 
was fairly likely that he was the largest and most powerful of all the 
hotel's occupants.

"She didn't just overwhelm its mind," Laura gasped, "she took refuge in 
there!"

Richard pushed himself up off of the unmoving bundle of bulk and muscles. 
Chyou's body remained immobile. For as long as he could remember female 
bodybuilders had fascinated him. The very idea of actually touching a 
woman's muscles had thrilled him beyond belief. This particular scenario 
was not what he'd anticipated however. Now was hardly the time for 
erotic thrills but even so, he could not deny the impressive body of the 
woman he had fallen on top of, no matter how dangerous or evil she was.

The zombie which now housed the demon's mind raised a fist forward as 
though it was aiming a weapon. Then the concussion and a fireball popped 
into existence. Maybe not quite drained of power, Chyou had one more 
trick left up her sleeve. The man's arm recoiled as the fireball shot 
forward.

Laura threw a shield out to meet it - not so damaged that she was 
incapable of castings it would seem, no matter the precision of Chyou's 
psychic attack.

But she hadn't been the target - Richard had. Or, more precisely, the 
jar he still held. It exploded in his grip, boiling glass shrapnel cast 
in all directions.

It felt like he'd been punched in the balls. Gasping in breathless agony 
he fell to the ground, the world going blurry around him.

Laura took the zombie out. Three muscular strides covered the distance, 
before she launched herself and delivered a fist square into his face. 
Possessed with a demon he might be, but the man was still limited to his 
natural physical strength - a physical strength that came nowhere close 
to matching Laura's. He fell backwards, nose crushed, palate shattered.

She had more sand, always prepared, pulling another jar from her belt. 
She popped the lid off, clumsy with the screw she tore the metal in her 
frenzy. Head trauma was a pretty sure way to take someone down but she 
needed him to hold out for just a few more precious moments. 

Quickly circling the felled zombie she stuck to a ridiculously tight 
radius, barely a few inches away from the thrashing body, but time was 
the significant factor here. She ignored the gargling death rattle, 
determined to complete the circuit before his body gave up the ghost.

It was a hurried job but the man was still technically alive when Laura 
finished. She could have just waited of course, he can't have survived 
long with his face caved in like that, even though she'd avoided a 
direct brain strike - avoided instant death. But she didn't want to sit 
and twiddle her thumbs.

She dropped to her knees, over her fallen foe. Grabbing the man's head 
in her hands, she wrenched it around, twisting with such brutal force 
that she didn't merely break his neck, she all but ripped it right off 
his body.

Staggering backwards, the adrenalin rush was like a drug pulsing through 
her veins. Laura gasped great, heavy breaths. And then she remembered 
Richard. She flew across the ground towards him.

Richard was clasping his thigh, braying in horror as he tried in vain to 
hold in the blood. And then Laura was there, tending him.

She shushed him, her voice strong and reassuring. "Let me see," she 
insisted, gently but assuredly prising his panicked grip away from the 
wound.

Much to his relief, there was no savage jet - no great pulsing fountain 
of blood as he feared. His thigh and groin were soaked, his hands as 
gory as a horror movie, but, incredibly, the bleeding seemed to have 
subsided.

She tore open the leg of his trousers a little, strong fingers 
effortlessly and precisely opening the tough material. "Well, there's a 
cut there," she said, rather redundantly in his opinion. "But it's 
nowhere near the femoral artery - which is good."

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice sounding a little odd and stilted now he 
came to hear it in the unnaturally still night.

"Yes," she insisted. "It means you're not already dead."

"Oh. OK. Yeah, that's good then."

She unzipped her tracksuit top, pulling it off. The tight black vest 
beneath was sleeveless. In the exertion of the battle she had sweated, 
the moisture making her muscles gleam in the silvery moonlight.

Richard just gaped at the sight, his wound completely forgotten.

"Thought that might cheer you up," she remarked dryly. Despite her 
habitual modesty, she didn't seem particularly offended by his helpless 
scrutiny. Just as well really, it wasn't as if he was in any way capable 
of prising his eyes away.

Her arms were every bit as powerful and well developed as his earlier 
impressions had suggested they must be. In fact she even looked to be 
just as muscular as the idealised vision he'd had of her, back when her 
naked image had overwhelmed his senses around the campfire. He'd thought 
that overpumped goddess merely a reflection of his most exaggerated 
fantasy but her biceps looked to actually be that big.

With exceptional tenderness, Laura tied the tracksuit tight around the 
wound. With every exertion her arms made, the muscles twitched with a 
supple bounce. A harmonious symphony of movement. The architecture of 
her arms a living mass of dips and contours, every line and dent, the 
sweet swell and ripple. And when she strained, pulling the knot tight, 
her bicep leapt up like a loyal pet, standing to attention at her 
command. So round and so hard and so exquisitely beautiful.

Given the close proximity of her ministrations to his fabulous erection, 
there was no way she could have missed its brazen assertion.

"I'm so sorry!" Richard cringed, blushing harder and more deeply than he 
thought was possible.

She seemed to appreciate that he was genuinely mortified.

"That's OK," she assured him, her wry grin still present. "Good to know 
you're not suffering too much blood loss." She patted his cheek 
affectionately. "I'll take it as a compliment."

"That actually feels better," he said, surprised. For a brief time there, 
he'd feared the wound may be a mortal one. 

"You'll be fine," she told him. "Can you stand?"

She wrapped one of her phenomenal arms beneath Richard's, stretched it 
about his back, treating him once again to the sweet intimacy of her 
musculature against his body.

Lifting him with ease, she pulled him against her strong but voluptuous 
form - the heavy swell of her breast crushing insistently against the 
side of his ribs as their bodies pressed together. 

"More cheap thrills," Laura remarked.

"Sorry."

She raised a coy eyebrow and pulled his body to press against her own. 
"How do you know I don't mean me?" 

Gently, she lowered him, letting his feet attempt to take his own weight. 
Tentatively he stood without aid. He prodded the binding experimentally. 
There had been a little blood seepage but not much. He nodded, proud of 
himself.

"Perfect!" she applauded and lent forward to give him a quick, 
affectionate peck on the cheek.

"Guys!" Simon called out from where he sat forgotten in the background.

Richard's first thought was that he was playing the jealous boyfriend, 
possessive of Laura and unappreciative of her current attention. But 
there was an edge of panic that undermined this initial impression. 
Simon was sat on the ground, still looking pale and shaken from all that 
had befallen them.

"I think we've got a problem!"

They turned to face the sight of Chyou. Like a phoenix from the flames 
she rose ghostlike from the corpse of the man she'd taken possession of. 
A luminous vision of ethereal beauty. But no less terrible for her grace 
and entrancing radiance.

"She's dead!" Laura whined, sounding younger and more fragile than 
Richard had ever heard her. It was her hopeless defeat that truly 
daunted him. He realised that despite all that she was, all that he'd 
witnessed her do, Laura was almost as young as he was. The warrior witch 
was also a child whose seemingly limitless strength and resources were 
running dangerously low.

"How?" she pleaded.

Richard raised his gun, not knowing what else to do, but the burst let 
loose was weak and anaemic at best. His resources were growing feeble 
too and he'd had none of Laura's strength or skills to begin with.

He tried to step forward but stumbled, falling painfully to his knees. 

Chyou spread her arms - silvery in the radiant light of night. The ghost 
form she now took still vaguely resembled the muscular wonder of her 
physical form but was clearly insubstantial. The shape of her body was 
remembered by the spectral force that now approximated it but she was no 
more physical than a glimmer of light. The actual details of her form 
were indefinite, mere shades of sparkling grey and silver. Only the 
outline of her body was clearly remembered. And even this began to 
shimmer and wave as the ghost started to move, insinuating herself 
through the air.

Steeling herself once more, Laura strode towards her foe. She threw her 
arms out to the side, summoning the strength to fight this demon. Energy 
crackled like snakes of static, writhing along her arms as if nestling 
within the sinewy lines of her muscular definition. 

Chyou ignored the witch, floating twenty feet above the spot where Laura 
had so recently believed the battle concluded. She gestured about her - 
for all the world like a benevolent goddess bestowing grace and goodwill 
upon adoring worshippers. The zombie hordes were roused, their halted 
encroachment beginning anew.

Richard had made his way to Simon who had finally managed to get back 
onto his feet. They saw the zombies and swore in horror. Richard stood 
beside his friend, ready to enter the fray.

Simon had retrieved his gun. "Forget them," he told Richard. "We've got 
to kill Chyou."

"What?" Richard gasped.

"She can't survive as just a spirit. A few minutes at most. Kill the 
body!"

They ran back towards the prostrate demon.

Laura was also ignoring the zombies. She knew that in the time it took 
them to reach the battle - the battle would be over, for good or ill. 
Chyou was the threat here. Her mighty arms bristling, she drew her fists 
together - side by side - aimed at the spectral being.

A crackling burst of lightning fired from her arms in a streak of 
sizzling magic, frying the very air it passed through. The astral being 
was quick, but so was the witch. As if flitted away from her attack, 
Laura moved her arms, anticipating the dodge and she followed with a 
skilful sweep.

The blast caught the demon, wrapping burning tendrils of fire about its 
glimmering form. Spectral she may well be but anything that still had 
life - life on any level - could still be killed. The ghost screamed - 
still able to experience pain as well it would seem and Laura poured the 
fire on with remorseless savagery.

One of the shambling horde had reached her and Laura kicked out sideways, 
breaking the zombie's leg with a muscular sweep of her own. It went down 
and she concluded the job with a heavy stamp, shattering its skull in an 
explosive concussion of blood, brain and bone.

Continuing to hold the writhing demon, Laura nimbly sidestepped another 
zombie, aerobically planting her knee square into its chest with a 
satisfying crunch. Another shambled up behind her and she shot her head 
backwards - a reverse headbutt that smashed its face. It stumbled 
backwards but remained on its feet. Oblivious to fear or pain it 
continued its assault until Laura kicked out backwards, aiming low, 
putting the thing down. Still it relented, knowing nothing but its 
command to attack, pushing itself onto its hands and knees. 

Laura swept her leg around catching the zombie's head between her 
powerful thighs. With a tight flex of her muscles she squeezed hard, 
snapping its neck with a sharp crack.

Throughout she'd continued to hold the floating demon, furious energy 
pouring out of her body in a flood. But there was only so much multi-
tasking she was capable of. She couldn't guard against every possible 
assault the ancient warrior might make.

Screaming in pain and fury, Chyou fought back, sending out an unfocussed 
but chasmic quake - a psychic tidal wave bursting forth in all 
directions.

Laura was shaken, finally losing her prey but the boys were shaken down 
to the bone, thrown to the ground mere feet away from Chyou's unmoving 
body.

This really was her last ditch attempt at survival - there was nothing 
left she had to fight with. Seeing her chance, the spectral demon dove 
through the air, targeting her physical form, driving herself forward 
like a dart.

"No!" Laura screamed. "Don't let it re-enter the body!" Simultaneous to 
this cry she shot out more fire, but the ghost-like apparition moved 
faster than the sizzling bolts.

Richard turned over as it swept down, facing the streaking demon as it 
flew overhead. He let loose a savage burst of energy but the demon 
endured, spiking itself into its muscle-bound body like an arrow.

And then he witnessed the truly horrifying spectacle of the massive 
warrior woman rousing - the battered body lifting itself and reaching 
for him.

Simon too was trying to fire but he was spent, had nothing left to give, 
no inner reserve upon which to call. He was defeated.

Richard fired his own weapon again but he was too weak and she was too 
determined - too relentless - reaching him in a single stride. Her hand 
grabbed him, fingers grasping about his skull and she lifted him bodily 
into the air. If she but squeezed, his head would burst like a melon.

Screaming - utterly desperate - he didn't shoot her with the gun but 
stabbed her with it, driving the crystal between her mighty breasts and 
on into her heart.

Fear and fury flowed from him, weapon still very much active even as he 
drove it on into her body.

Chyou roared in pain. She released her grip about his skull but Richard 
managed to keep hold of the gun, his hand still pumping his passion 
through the rock and on into her body.

He could feel her - feel her very essence. Like the mental bond he'd 
experienced before but far more raw - far more primal. Here were base 
elements - here was the pure essence of a being - of a demon.

There was no need for physical murder - right here, right now he was 
inside her. He could rip her fucking heart out and eat it whole.

Laura had reached them, saw the stick weapon half buried into the 
writhing demon's chest, saw Richard's body quaking as though in 
electrocution. She made a grab for him, meaning to pry him off but was 
nearly knocked out by the concussive blow of psychic resonance. 

But Richard was acting on impulse now, not knowing what or why or how. 
He grabbed the woman behind him, his other hand resolutely stuck on the 
gun's glowing rock.

With two hearts in his hands Richard felt his soul boil - power unlike 
anything he'd ever known flooded him, his fragile form having no hope in 
hell of containing it. It was like filling a fishtank with the ocean - 
to say it would burst under the pressure would barely be sufficient to 
describe the threat his mind now faced.

But instincts were leading him and the pressure subsided. Without any of 
a mage's implicit skills or powers, on pure impromptu impulse, he 
reshaped the currents and rode the wave, casting his own magic on a 
subconscious level.

Riding a high no junky could ever even envisage Richard faded back into 
the real world having faced down the odds and survived something that 
almost certainly should have killed him. He'd fought the devil and won. 
But at what price?

Chyou was dead - of that he had no doubt. But suddenly he realised that 
his other hand was pressed - was locked - against Laura's chest, his 
palm down flat just above the almighty swell of her breasts.

He pulled back in horror, releasing a link to her heart and her soul he 
hadn't even realised he'd made.

"Oh holy fuck!" she complained, dazedly, and then she collapsed in a 
dead faint.

"Oh holy fuck," Simon echoed, as the zombie hordes closed on them.

Killing the demon had done nothing to stop her minions and now their 
only protector had dropped to the floor at their feet, out cold. Simon 
and Richard stepped forward, putting themselves between the mindless 
army and the woman they both loved.

Simon tried his gun again, managing a stream of weak green fire that 
leapt obediently forward and wrapped sparkling and burning about a tall 
woman. She didn't even notice it. All the blast had done was light her 
up a few moments and let them read the blank indifference on her face, 
let them see the mindless horde that would fall upon them and tear them 
apart with their bare hands.

"Oh holy fuck," Richard agreed. He remembered what Laura had told him 
about the zombies. Physically they were just human - it was only the 
mind that was destroyed. Could he take the average Joe in a fight? He 
didn't think so - he was after all decidedly average himself. And they 
didn't feel pain or fear or doubt or regret.

"Fuck that!" he snarled out loud. He'd just killed a fucking demon! He 
wasn't about to be thwarted here and now. Not while he still had feet 
and fists. He would not give up. Not while he still had breath in his 
body.

He rushed forward screaming with fury, fists flying, landing on the 
closest zombie. Adrenalin pumped him up. If they didn't feel then they 
had nothing to fight for. They had no unconscious witch to protect with 
every ounce of available strength.

The zombie was a man Richard couldn't have hoped to take down in the 
real world but yet here he was, collapsing under Richard's fury. Simon 
too fought with all he had. The firepower of the weapon may have been 
useless but it was still a hefty stick, the consistency of a baseball 
bat, and weighted with a rock.

The woman who'd proven so immune to the gun's firepower went straight 
down as Simon slammed the heavy rock onto the top of her skull. He swung 
the bat around, taking out another - a heavy set man, and then a third - 
a boy barely older than himself.

They took down more, fighting for all they were worth, and with such 
purpose Richard found in himself a strength he'd never before suspected, 
too used to being helpless and put-upon by those who were larger and 
stronger. He realised his own capabilities far exceeded his expectations, 
shattering his wretched self-doubt and low self-esteem. Right here and 
now with duty and devotion on his side, he felt capable of anything.

But the horde was massive and even the mightiest of warriors will be 
overwhelmed eventually. Despite their passion and their desperate fury 
they had no choice but to fall back, edging back to where Laura still 
lay, unconscious and helpless, beside the demon's corpse.

Another zombie was on Richard now, a man who must have been an athlete 
or a gym-rat at the very least. Hopelessly out-muscled, no matter the 
wealth of his spirit, Richard called to Simon, knowing that without 
assistance he hadn't a chance against the beast. But Simon too was 
overwhelmed, himself surrounded by the relentless creatures.

It was another rescuer that came to his aid. 

Richard fell onto his back, the muscular man coming down on top of him, 
those powerful arms grabbing at his body like claws, ready to tear him 
apart.

And then the zombie was lifted right off of him again.

He watched in shock and relief and grateful awe as a woman the size of a 
giant hefted the man above her head. She snapped his spine in two with 
arms the size of industrial pipes and then tossed the broken body away.

He'd never been so overjoyed to see a female bodybuilder in his life and 
for the very first time it had nothing to do with lust.

Amanda swept her arm around, connecting with another zombie, sending it 
flying. Stepping up to the fallen beast, she raised her booted foot high, 
leg bristling with more muscle than Richard would have deemed feasible. 
From her great height, and powered by such potent physical strength, the 
boot was utterly devastating as it came down upon the creature with a 
force that could have crushed rock.

Richard turned, about to direct the giant's devastating attention 
towards his besieged friend, but saw that Simon had his own muscle-bound 
rescuer, and she was every bit as lethal as Amanda. 

Gabriella was wielding a crowbar. Powered by her hugely muscled arms, 
the steel rod smashed skulls with the ease of a hammer pulverising egg-
shells. She killed with a ruthless efficiency, sweeping the weapon from 
side to side, increasing her score with every muscular swing.

Another came flying at her. She caught it by the face with her free hand, 
much as Chyou had grasped Richard's head. With a skilful flick of her 
wrist she twisted the thing's neck, snapping it with a clean, crisp 
crack.

Richard watched all this aghast. The women were deadly, just as he'd 
thought they would be, but to actually see them in action - to see them 
utilising those mighty muscles to such lethal effect - was nonetheless 
shocking to behold.

Amanda reached down, offering him her hand. He took it and was instantly 
hauled to his feet, the mighty woman's strength effortlessly pulling him 
up. He wasn't too shaken or distracted to notice the way her massive 
bicep bulged inside the tight orange sleeve of her top as she flexed. 

"You know," he said, "the cavalry don't have to wait until the last 
minute before staging a rescue."

"We didn't," she told him. "We've actually been here a while. You two 
seemed to be doing OK. The only reason I jumped in when I did was 
because you looked like you needed assistance."

He saw that her orange top was indeed already well spattered with blood.

"Are you fucking kidding?" He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There 
was of course the option to be angry too, but he had enough self-
preservation not to risk annoying a woman like Amanda, especially when 
she was in the heat of battle.

"I thought you knew we were here," she said absently. "Seriously, who 
did you think was killing all the other zombies?"

Richard just shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. "Well," he 
finally managed, gesturing to the broken body of the man she'd pulled 
off him. "Thanks."

She smiled sweetly, looking remarkably gentle and pretty. "You're 
welcome." And she headed back into the fray, taking out zombies with 
muscular, unfettered violence.

The twins were also present. Looking out across the battlefield he saw 
two gymnastic shapes flit from zombie to zombie, leaving a trail of 
broken bodies in their wake.

With the speed and precision of dancers they moved with synchronous 
grace, kicking and punching all who came before them. Strength and 
savagely skilled blows cut their victims down as they moved like twin 
twisters of death and destruction.

As Richard watched, the twins approached the same zombie from either 
side, their lethal legs as weapons, slamming into it simultaneously, 
forcing the spine in two opposite directions. Either strike would have 
been lethal, but not content with killing the beast twice they performed 
another simultaneous kick, this time driving their heels high, striking 
either side of its skull.

The force of their kicks perfectly balanced, the concussive power burst 
the top of its head, spraying blood, brain and bone fragments up and out 
in a gory fountain.

They high-fived, still in synch, cartwheeling away to take out two more 
zombies, Cassie turning the momentum of her gymnastics into a punch that 
felled the beast; Gina's victim being closer she used the cartwheel to 
kick it down instead. They both dropped to their knees to lift and twist 
the heads of their respective victims, snapping spines and necks, before 
bouncing back up, fists prepped and ready.

While Richard was distracted by the balletic carnage the twins wrought, 
another zombie approached him. He turned in time to see its assault 
halted by a thick, tattooed arm slipping neatly about its neck. 
Gabriella took the strain and a bicep the size of a grapefruit tightened 
against its throat. The zombie didn't seem to notice that it could no 
longer breathe or that it had been lifted off of its feet by the muscle 
woman standing behind it. It still tried to reach Richard, its hands in 
claws, groping ahead. Richard just stood and stared as Gabriella 
literally squeezed the life out of it.

In her other arm she still held the crowbar. It was dripping with gore. 
While she still squeezed the zombie in the neckhold, another attacked 
her. With callous ease, she swung the bar at the new assailant, braining 
it with mechanical efficiency.

Happy that it was dead she turned her attention back to the now dead 
body dangling from the crook of her elbow. She unfurled the arm, letting 
the lifeless corpse drop heavily to the ground.

"Couldn't you use magic?" Richard asked, thinking of Laura's spell and 
the way it had halted the entire assault.

Gabriella shrugged. "I guess," she admitted. She turned about and 
slammed another zombie with the bar, connecting with such force that not 
only was its skull shattered, but its neck was wrenched aside, snapping 
with a savage pop.

Richard guessed that that was the end of the discussion but Amanda had 
heard the question.

"It's best to be sure," she told him. And then, as if to illustrate this 
fact, she lifted the zombie she had trapped with one mighty arm around 
its torso. She wrapped her other arm about its head. A savage grunt of 
effort and she twisted the thing's head right around, its neck crunching 
like dry kindling.

It didn't take the four body-built witches long to kill the entire horde, 
their mighty muscles destroying every single zombie in the field, 
breaking the mindless bodies one by one.

They gathered around the unconscious Laura. Simon sat, cradling her head 
in his lap. He looked up, his face full of concern.

Gabriella knelt down, cupping her hands to either side of the girl's 
face. Then she moved her grip, placing her palms onto Laura's body, one 
above her breasts, sensing her heart, the other lower, pressing against 
her flat belly.

"She's fine," Gabriella assured them all. "She's still thrumming with 
power, though. What happened to her?"

"I don't know," Richard told her, honestly. "It all happened so fast, I 
can't even make sense of it."

"I'll bring her around."

Richard thought back to how Laura had revived him and his heart began to 
race again. This time it was nothing to do with the fear and thrill of 
battle.

Sure enough, Gabriella tenderly took hold of the girl's face again. She 
bent in and gave Laura a long, lingering kiss. Their lips slowly 
caressed, mouths opening, the kiss increasing in intensity. 

Laura responded, kissing back hard, sleeping beauty awoken by Princess 
Charming, and she took the power and the pleasure of that sweet physical 
union with a sudden, desperate hunger. Gender was irrelevant with 
something so honest and so exquisite.

Gabriella pulled back, but Laura's head followed, reluctant to let go. 
She actually let out a regretful sob as the kiss was stolen away from 
her. Richard remembered that feeling too.

But Laura was actually quaking, eyes now open but flickering, unseeing. 
Her arms jerked, fingers tightening in tension. Beneath the tight black 
vest, Richard could see the ripple of her abdominals, her belly alive 
with involuntary fluttering. Her heels pulled against the ground, as 
though her toes were curling in her boots.

She drew in a sharp, silent gasp of breath. And then the tension 
evaporated from her tightly shuddering body. Softly, she relaxed, 
seeming to melt back down.

"Did you maybe lay it on a little heavy?" Cassie said to Gabriella, her 
voice rich and amused.

The older woman just shrugged her big shoulders. "She's awake, isn't 
she?"

Laura's eyes opened properly, seeing her beloved's tender face looking 
back down at her. She smiled up at him. "Wow!" she said, her voice 
quivering, "and I thought I woke you up with a bang!"

"Actually..." Simon began. But he didn't bother explaining. He'd tell 
her later. Maybe after he'd asked Gabriella how to do that.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Actually I feel good. Odd, but good. Did we win?"

"Demon: dead. Zombies: dead," Amanda assured her.

Laura sat up, looking dazed. She licked her lips, curiously. She looked 
at Gabriella, her face a question. The older woman shrugged again, 
smiling sheepishly. She reached down offering the young witch her hand.

Richard watched in delight as both women took the strain. Two gigantic 
biceps popped in harmony as Laura got to her feet.

"Thank you," Laura told her friend, and the level of gracious excess 
that coloured her tone suggested that Simon didn't need to explain 
anything to her.

"You're welcome," Gabriella replied, matching Laura's wry delivery.

Laura just stood there, still looking dazed and confused. She placed one 
hand over her heart, pressing down on the top of her breasts.

"What's wrong?" Gabriella asked.

"Nothing's wrong, that's the point. I should be totally spent. Either 
you're even better than you think..."

"Or?"

Laura just shrugged. "I just feel a little odd, that's all. Let's get 
out of here. But first."

And she headed over to the corpse of the zombie Chyou had taken 
possession of. She needed to know how the demon had beaten the trap. A 
closer look exposed the play.

The others followed, bent down to examine the man's broken body. Gina 
was the one to find it. A finger picked up the loose thread, lifting the 
long, trailing strip of flesh.

"That's sick," Cassie said. Maybe there was some differences between the 
pair after all, Gina showing none of her sister's squeamishness as she 
pulled the long tendril upwards, making the man's arm dangle from the 
wrist like a marionette.

"Is that his tendon?" Gabriella gasped.

But they could see it was. With his arm suspended like that they could 
see the long slit up his arm that Chyou had made to remove it.

"How could anyone do that to themselves," Cassie said, actually sounding 
weak.

Gina shrugged. "She didn't care; it wasn't as if it was her own body she 
was damaging."

Gabriella got closer, actually curious, despite herself. "She ripped it 
out at the shoulder, pulled the whole tendon out along the arm, left the 
other end attached to the wrist. She knew what was coming next."

"Gotta admit - it worked."

And it had. In the darkness Laura hadn't noticed the long tendon as it 
lay outside the circle of sand.

"Bitch," Laura hissed, kicking the zombie head. Already half severed, 
the force of the kick ripped the head right off, sending it bouncing 
away into the darkness like a gruesome football.

"Well - you showed her!" Cassie reassured her.

"Actually, I didn't," she told them. "The conquering hero of the moment 
was Richard!"

And the other women turned to the now blushing and demure boy.

"He stabbed her through the heart and drained the life-force right out 
of her."

The women regarded him with renewed admiration and respect. All eyes on 
him, Richard felt a blend of horrible self-consciousness and glowing 
pride, but still managed to enjoy the attention. Dreamlike he took their 
thanks and gratitude with humble grace and reticence.

It was definitely time to go. Time to leave this blood-drenched 
battlefield behind them. But first they retrieved the weapons.

"Could someone else grab that," Laura said, gesturing to the wooden 
stick that jutted out of Chyou's chest. After the last episode, she 
didn't want to get too close to the demon - dead or not.

Amanda went up and tore the weapon free, yanking it out of the muscular 
torso with stoical composure. She caught Richard's gaze as he watched 
her. "Good work," she told him curtly, "but don't make a habit of 
stabbing women in the heart, or I'll crush every bone in your body."

Richard couldn't be sure if she was kidding him or not - the woman had 
deadpan down to a fine art and could be very scary when she wanted to be.

"There were extenuating circumstances," he assured her, trying to match 
her dry delivery.

"Relax," Gabriella told him, throwing a friendly arm around his 
shoulders. "She's just kidding." The feel of her solid muscles against 
his back and neck thrilled him as much as her warm affection moved him. 
"She wouldn't break every bone. You'd be dead long before she finished 
that, and even Amanda wouldn't bother to continue torturing a corpse."

She gave him a playful squeeze, making the solid mound of her bicep 
insinuate itself hard against the back of his neck. "I gather you're one 
of those guys who gets off on muscle-bound women," she said.

"Yeah," he admitted, shuddering in pleasure.

"Jesus - you must be in heaven!"

"Well, aside from all the blood and death and demons and zombies, yeah, 
I guess I am."

Gabriella laughed. She lowered her head conspiratorially, dropped her 
voice. "Well far be it from me to gossip-monger but I do kind of gather 
that Gina is rather taken with you. And this was even before you were 
revealed as the man of the moment."

Scarcely able to believe it Richard looked up. As chance would have it, 
Gina happened to be looking right at him from a short distance away. 
Their eyes met briefly and she looked quickly away. Her sister, grinning, 
whispered something to her and Gina shoved her, half-amused, half-
annoyed. 

Richard thought for a moment. Gina was as sexy as any woman he could 
possibly hope to meet, not to mention attractive and appealing in every 
other respect too. They didn't know the slightest thing about each other, 
but that was hardly an issue. Maybe it would turn out that they didn't 
like each other as people, but even if that was the case, there was the 
potential for an awful lot of fun to be had finding out.

But could he put aside his wanton feelings for Laura in the hope of 
pursuing a more reciprocal romance with Gina? As far as stupid questions 
go...

Even so he glanced across at the pretty shopgirl. She was talking to 
Simon who was currently gesturing at the awesome protuberance of her 
magnificent bosom, so beautifully accentuated by her vest's tight 
adherence to her breasts' bountiful prominence. 

It was strange to watch the couple from afar, to see their body language 
and interaction without actually hearing the conversation that made 
sense of it. Simon was making the same squeezy gesture he'd first used 
to silently describe her buxom figure to Richard as soon as she'd turned 
away from them in the shop.

Laura rolled her eyes, slapped him lightly on the arm. Then she laughed 
at something he said. Simon was touching his own shoulder now, as if 
explaining. She responded by thrusting her arms on her hips in a mock 
huff. Even from a distance, the tightening of her biceps which this 
motion induced was obvious and the sight gave Richard an illicit little 
thrill.

Simon wasn't appreciating this spectacle in the same way however. He 
wasn't even looking at her arms. His face was twisted in a cocky, 
arrogant grin, as though he was mocking or teasing her.

Laura said something else, her expression stern, calling him on his 
arrogance. She reinforced her point by raising her arm and flexing her 
bicep at him, staring him down, as though the pose was a kind of threat.

Richard could have made up a dialogue between them, could have made it 
fit and might even have been accurate. But in the end it didn't matter, 
not from where he was standing. Watching them without hearing what 
passed between them let him observe the scene on a completely different 
level. Every movement, every physical expression reinforced a single 
thought again and again. The couple were very much in love.

He sighed. He was glad for them, he really was. 

Mind wandering pleasantly, he found himself wondering absently who would 
win in an armwrestling match, Gina or Cassie. He wondered how much 
persuasion they'd need to try. He was guessing not very much.

Laura had stopped the playful bickering with her boyfriend. She now bent 
down to pick up the other gun from the ground. Richard was watching as 
if happened.

One minute, she'd grasped the weapon, lifting it by the large rock 
affixed to the staff, the next moment a concussive detonation sounded 
and she was left, shaken up, her hand full of fragments and dust. 

"Jesus!" Richard exclaimed, but the sound of the shattering rock had 
already attracted everyone's attention.

They all converged on the very shocked looking young witch. The remains 
of the rock still held in her palm.

"It just exploded in my hand," she exclaimed.

"It shattered in your grip," Simon corrected, staring in shocked awe at 
her.

"Christ, woman," Gabriella said, also shocked. "You really don't know 
your own strength!"

"Are you still under the augmentation spell," Cassie asked her, just 
sounding confused. "Shouldn't it have worn off by now? Mine dissipated 
in the come-down after the fight."

"It's not a spell," Laura stammered. "It's just... I don't know what it 
is." 

Amanda was still holding the other makeshift weapon. She wrapped her 
fingers about the rock and began to squeeze. Her arm was bent and her 
bicep swelled with the effort, stretching the tight orange sleeve until 
it looked like it would burst apart under the stress. Even so, even 
given that her bicep was actually larger in size than the rock in 
question, Amanda's strength, great though it undoubtedly was, was 
insufficient to crush it.

As though in frustration she ripped it from the staff, tearing it free 
as if to at least salvage some pride. She was not annoyed however, and 
merely threw the rock to Laura.

The young witch had barely taken the strain when the stone crumbled in 
her grip as though no more substantial than plaster.

"Fuck!" Cassie exclaimed, effectively voicing everyone's feelings.

Gabriella turned on Richard accusatorily. "When you killed Chyou, what 
exactly did you do?"

"I told you," Richard said, shaken, "I don't know what happened. I just 
felt this flood of energy pour into me from Chyou and then drain out of 
me again. I didn't even realise I was bonded to Laura until afterwards 
and she collapsed."

The other witches all exchanged meaningful glances, shocked but clearly 
thinking along the same lines.

"It's not possible," Laura protested. "He can't have..."

"There wasn't any sort of alignment," Amanda stated bluntly.

"Everyone was bonded, it's feasible," Gabriella conceded, obviously 
convinced.

"How? He's not even a mage," Cassie said.

"He killed Chyou with magic, that part can't be disputed," Gina offered. 
And Richard wasn't so consumed by the quandary that he didn't notice she 
was jumping to support his exploits.

Gabriella turned on Richard again. "You said you just acted on impulse?"

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I don't know what I did. It was just 
instinctual."

"We know he's got an affinity. We know he worked it well enough to pull 
the power out of the demon. And it had to go somewhere or else it would 
have blown his brains out of his ears."

Richard flinched at this and she laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"Metaphorically," she assured him. 

Metaphor it may be, but even so, it was a metaphor for the magical 
energy utterly destroying him. Dead is still dead, no matter how pretty 
or unpretty the method of destruction.

"But he can't have given it to Laura," Amanda protested. "Not without 
channelling. Not without alignment. Or are you saying he did that on 
instinct too?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" Gabriella shrugged.

"She's right," Cassie joined in, her expression one of utmost 
concentration as though she was thinking it through even while she spoke. 
"The demon was summoned by these two." And she gestured to Richard and 
Simon. "Laura, you had no psychic connection with it or them until 
afterwards. But for you to have received her energy it has to be a two-
way thing, the energy has to balance on both sides."

Gina nodded; with a twin's understanding she completed her sister's 
thought. "She wasn't involved in the summoning so there's no way she 
could just accidentally be in synch with the demon. Even if Richard 
could channel the power from one to the other, the levels wouldn't line 
up. Amanda's right without an experienced mage to deliberate align the 
forces involved, it wouldn't work."

Though they all nodded sagely at this conclusion, everyone understanding 
the logic except Richard and Simon, it didn't explain things. But 
something else had apparently occurred to Laura however.

"Richard," she began carefully. "You said that when the casting was 
being made, you had a... well, a vision of sorts. You thought you saw a 
woman." She was being careful not to spell out that the vision in 
question was erotic in nature, an idealised fantasy figure. He hadn't 
spelt out the fact that the woman had been naked, although she'd 
probably guessed this by his embarrassed fumbling when telling her. He 
hadn't spelt out that the woman had been extraordinarily muscular, 
though this too she had probably realised once discovering that he had a 
penchant for bodybuilders. He certainly hadn't mentioned the fact that 
the naked muscle-babe in his vision had actually been her, but it looked 
like she'd worked out this last detail herself.

"Yes," he admitted slowly, his voice careful.

"Could this woman you imagined you saw have been at least partly 
inspired by having met me earlier that day? Even subtly? The way she 
looked? Even just the colour of her hair?"

She asked the question so gently, in such an understated manner that 
Richard couldn't help but appreciate exactly what it was she wasn't 
spelling out - the fact that she had guessed explicitly, and indeed 
accurately, exactly what his vision had been. 

He didn't need to answer her question, his sudden flush of bright 
embarrassment did that for him.

Laura turned to Amanda. "Isn't that enough to create a balance?" she 
suggested. "If the links were already there in his subconscious right 
from the start, who's to say he couldn't have just reverted our energies 
via that same mindstate when he was channelling the demon's lifeforce?"

Amanda still couldn't quite believe it however. "You're still talking 
about an incredible degree of power, even if he did it by accident."

"Well, you got another explanation?"

She didn't. Laura wanted to try one more thing however, one more 
demonstration. She turned to Gabriella and gestured to the crowbar 
suspended from her belt. "Can I borrow that?"

"Sure, it is yours." She handed it over. It was mostly clean of blood 
and gore but still felt a little tacky. "What are you gonna do, bend 
it?"

It would be an impressive trick, the steel bar was intended to pry and 
lever other things apart. It was very tough. But even so, it was still a 
trick any one of the women here could perform. It would prove nothing. 

Laura however had something else in mind. Taking tight and careful hold 
of either side of the metal rod she took the strain, as evidenced by the 
solid hardening of her arms, her biceps standing out like pulsating 
rocks.

However - rather than twisting her wrists, finding the breaking point 
and pushing the two ends to meet one another, forcing the solid metal to 
submit to her massive strength - Laura instead began to pull. Her 
triceps trembling with the effort, the veins on her arms standing out 
with the strain, Laura began, incredibly, to stretch the steel bar.

There were various exclamations of shock and awe, mostly obscene, as it 
became apparent what she was not merely attempting but actually 
succeeding in doing.

With a grunt of pained exertion, Laura won the battle, tugging the two 
ends of the rod away from each other, stretching it out like taffy, the 
centre weakening and narrowing, giving in to her incredible strength.

She stopped before ripping the crowbar in half, although it was by now 
apparent that should she wish to do so, all she'd have to do would be to 
continue yanking the ends apart. Her physical capacity was no longer in 
any dispute. The solid metal rod was now twice its original length, 
still quite sturdy and rigid.

The demonstration proved one thing to everyone present, including Laura, 
impossible though it apparently was.

"Are you saying I gave her Chyou's power?" Richard stammered, breaking 
the silence. He was as stunned by this revelation as by the supreme 
strongwoman act Laura had just performed for them all.

"Looks that way," Amanda finally admitted, sighing.

"But I can't do magic!"

"Well," Gina said, leaning in close to him her voice rich with relish. 
"There's a witch over there bristling with more power than this world 
has seen in decades, and she goes a pretty long way to contradicting 
that." Gina leaned in even closer, taking his arm in her hand. "And by 
the way, feel free to do me next!"

"Hell," Gabriella laughed, "get in line!"

As Richard was reeling from this revelation, Laura was regarding her new 
boyfriend. She looked at him with a half smile on her face. Simon was 
still just staring in open-mouthed shock at the distended piece of metal 
she held. She tossed it absently on the ground, as if denying it.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him an equivocal shrug. "Well, you did 
know that I was a strong girl," she offered. She flexed her biceps again, 
stretching both arms to the sides and pumping the muscles up into large, 
proud peaks. As huge and bristling as they were, they were no bigger 
than they had been that morning, when Simon had awoken to her tender, if 
vigorous, spell-casting. But the physical strength Laura now possessed 
was incalculable. Pulling a steel bar apart was just a fraction of what 
she was now capable.

Simon ignored the dazzling sight of giant biceps pumped up to full and 
potent effect. He stepped up to kiss her, taking her head in his hands 
and he fused their souls with all the love and passion he felt. 
Responding with aching delight, Laura immediately dropped the pose and 
held him in return, losing herself in the sweetness and fervent craving 
of the kiss.

Richard did feel a little disheartened at watching this but he shrugged 
it off. After all, it wasn't any of his business. He was content to 
leave them to it.

And besides, the pretty girl beside him was still holding his arm. 

Gina now slipped her arm around his. He felt her large and shapely bicep 
press tightly against his decidedly smaller one. She looked at him and 
grinned. "Have you ever been beaten up by a girl?" she asked him, 
teasingly, her voice rich and suggestive.

"Not yet," he admitted.

But before they left the field, Laura stopped in front of Richard, 
staring at him for a few silent moments. He was about to ask what was 
wrong when her ambiguous expression melted into one of profound and 
heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you!" she gushed, and threw her arms 
passionately around his shoulders, hugging him hard against her body.

She squeezed him with unabashed enthusiasm, crushing him bodily against 
her awesome chest, powerful arms rigid as they held him trapped in a 
painfully tight embrace. It wasn't just the eroticism of the intimacy 
that so touched him, but the deep and earnest emotion that poured from 
her body into his, as pure and personal as anything exchanged through 
their psychic bonds.

Richard tried his utmost to hug her back but his arms were pinned 
helplessly to his sides, her biceps hard and round, digging into his 
flesh. Instead he just lifted his forearms to lightly circle her waist 
and make a token gesture at returning the affection.

She seemed to realise the excess she was inflicting upon him. She 
giggled and apologised, releasing him and backing off.

"Sorry," she told him, humbly, "but seriously, thank you, with all my 
heart." And her eyes were wet with the fierce depth of her feelings. 
Richard realised that she didn't need to be in love with him in order to 
love him. And that he too felt that same honest and wholesome love for 
her. Although he did still have a stupendous erection.

And then Simon was standing before him, that same ambiguous expression 
on his face. Maybe he hadn't appreciated Richard giving his new 
girlfriend superhuman strength, whether accidentally or not. Maybe he 
didn't appreciate all the sly sideways glimpses Richard had made at his 
new girlfriend's overtly developed muscles. Maybe he didn't appreciate 
the intensely intimate embrace Richard had just enjoyed, his body 
plastered against his new girlfriend's magnificent tits so hard it was a 
wonder Richard didn't have two caved in dips in his own chest where 
they'd crushed into him.

Simon threw his arms about Richard's shoulders with the same heartfelt 
gratitude that Laura had shown. "Thank you!" he gushed, the intensity of 
his sincere appreciation overwhelming him just as much as it had Laura. 
"Seriously, I can't express enough just how grateful I am! You've always 
been like a brother to me. Closer than a brother. Thank you - for 
everything."

Richard laughed, feeling overwhelmed himself, not knowing how to respond. 
He hugged his friend back. Any residual jealousy or anger at his friend 
for causing all this in the first place finally evaporated for good. 

Simon released Richard, looking rather sheepish and embarrassed, not 
having expected his emotions to burst out like that. But he laughed 
affectionately and punched his friend on the arm. "Seriously mate, 
cheers for everything."

"You're welcome," Richard assured him.

Simon and Laura left, hand in hand, like two normal teenagers, very much 
in love.

Richard felt Gina's arm slide back into place about his. Her cool, 
seductive voice cooed close to her ear. "Something to be said about 
large-breasted amazons," she pointed out wryly. "They're very good at 
hugging. It's that fantastic combination of arm strength and sheer chest 
size."

"Yes," he managed to reply weakly. "Although breathing is nice too."

"What do you think Simon was so grateful about?" Gina asked, her voice 
so sweetly naive and innocent that he just knew she was teasing him 
again.

As they walked along, arm in arm, Richard plucked up his courage, and 
finally summoned the nerve to ask, "Gina, can I feel your biceps?"

"Well, duh!" she said. "What did you think that was, a potato?" And she 
flexed the arm which pressed against his, trapping it against her ribs 
and squeezing with enough force to be painful, the hard round boulder 
digging into his flesh.

He gasped, simultaneously hurt and thrilled beyond belief. 

"That's not what I meant," he began.

She laughed, easing the pressure off again but still holding her 
powerful arm pressed pleasantly along his. "Yeah, I know what you 
meant!" she assured him. "You mean you want to grope my arms, treat me 
as a meaningless sex object purely to fulfil you own selfish, carnal 
desires."

"I just meant..." Richard began, defensively. "I mean, I think that 
you're really impressive. And I'm curious about all this. I'd never even 
met a bodybuilder before yesterday." But his argument just petered out. 
She had a point, after all.

She giggled, poking him in the ribs. 

"Some advice," she whispered playfully. "If you want to fondle a girl, 
ask her if she wants a massage." 

"Gina," Richard said brightly. "I was just thinking, what with all we've 
been through tonight, would you like a massage when we get back to the 
house?"

"Why Richard," she replied, voice perky and bouncy. "Thank you, that's 
so considerate of you." She giggled. "Play your cards right and you 
never know your luck," she offered, squeezing his arm tight again.

He realised that she wasn't doing it to thrill him, although that was a 
highly pleasurable side benefit, and one she was certainly aware of, but 
she was in fact hugging him. It was an affectionate gesture and he 
returned it, squeezing her arm back.