Outside the Box
By Muscle Fan



The following is a short story about muscle growth. If you like it, please
read my other stories on the 'Muscle Fan' bookshelf in Diana the Valkyrie's
library. Also please let me know at covert.1@hotmail.com

Thank you.

I'm Margo Jackson an African-American figure competitor and bodybuilder who
has appeared in numerous contests. I've placed several times, but winning has
eluded me. I live in the Hollywood Hills with a sweeping view of Los Angeles,
thanks to the inheritance I received from my parents; my father, a noted
author and my actress mother. Besides the house, I invested money that was
left to me in several businesses.

I keep myself in good shape, exercising religiously in my home gym, a gym that
would rival the best commercial gym, taking care of my walnut colored skin and
eating healthy. I have never taken steroids, but I admit to having minor
cosmetic surgery and breast augmentation all in an effort to obtain my pro
card and the illusive win in competitions.

Vanity? Obsession? Perhaps. It's my body that plays on my mind as I stand
before my bedroom mirror. I notice and critiqued every flaw that I can find;
some real and some imaginary. 'Getting old is a pisser,' I think, 'there
should be a way to turn back the aging process.'

One of my girlfriends, Rhonda, come over for lunch. Rhonda and I soon get
around to looks and living in Southern California's glamour capital. "This may
sound crazy, girlfriend," Rhonda finally said, "but sometimes you have to
think outside the box." "What do you mean?" I ask. "Well; and please don't
think I'm crazy, but I've heard of a Haitian priestess in South Central that
can work magic," Rhonda said. I give her a sideways glance and roll my eyes.
"A priestess?" I ask. Rhonda nodded. "Mistress DuPres, she does some sort of
spell or voodoo, or something," Rhonda said, "I heard it from my hairdresser."
"Uh-huh," I say, letting my skepticism show, "More than likely a con artist."

"I have her name and address in my purse," Rhonda said, extracting a business
card, "I was going to see if she could help mine and Jordan's love life."
Rhonda and Jordan had one of those on-again, off-again relationships that I
was sure wouldn't end well. "Let me see that," I say holding out my hand. The
card was from a salon on Sunset Boulevard and on the back was written a name
and address along with a phone number.

I don't know why, but I copy the information down and give the card back to
Rhonda. "Think outside the box, huh," I tell my friend, "this would be way
outside the box, but I'll think about it." And laugh.

Two weeks after my lunch with Rhonda, I pick up the phone and dial Madam
DuPres. A man answered speaking Creole. "Do you speak English," I ask.
"Certainly," the man said. "Good, I'd like to speak to Madam DuPres." "I'm
Madam DuPres' son, Michael, my mother speaks very little English, what's this
about?"

I briefly explain to the man about my goals and concerns over my appearance
and that I'd like to meet Madam DuPres to see if she could help. Michael
explains that his mother is elderly and does not travel, but that she could
see me if I came to their house in South Central. 'This is crazy,' I think,
but I set up an appointment anyway. 'I've never been to that part of town,' I
say to myself.

On the day of the appointment, I took an Uber to the address on the card. I
didn't want to drive my Bentley to South Central. "Are you sure about the
address?" the Uber driver asks as we pull up in front of a rundown home that
barely has any paint on the wood siding. "That's it," I reply, checking the
address on the paper and then looking at the building wondering if it would
fall down.

The man who answers the door is tall, perhaps six-foot, and handsome. "I'm
Michael," he said, "Madam DuPres' son, we spoke on the phone." He and I shake
hands and I take note of his strong grip. "Please, right this way," he said
and I follow him into the house.

Madam DuPres is old, thin, but alert. "Tell me dear, how may I help you," she
inquires in broken English. I tell her about how I grew up a tom boy and had
tried repeatedly to win contests, but that the first place trophy had always
eluded me. I tell her about my concern with getting older, the loss of my
parents and about how I worry about my body. Madam DuPres nods and says, "Come
back tomorrow at this time and I will have something for you, but for now,
take this and make it into a tea and drink it before bedtime." She slid a
folded piece of paper across the table to me. I look suspiciously at the
packet but put it in my purse.

That evening, I did as I was told and drop the contents of the packet into a
cup of hot water and drank it. It's bitter, but after a few sips I finish the
cup. 'Rhonda,' I think, 'I'm really outside the box and my comfort zone.' I
try reading but find my eyes growing heavy. I dream of being strong,
physically strong and in control. I like what I saw in my dream, a 'new Margo.
Mistress Margo.'

The following day, I was back at Madam DuPres'. Michael, Madam DuPres' son
interpreted. "Before we get started, here are my terms," Madam DuPres said,
"first, I will help you with your desires, however, you must take my son,
Michael, who will act as your man servant, driver, bodyguard and lover to live
with you. There is no place here in South Central for him. That is all that I
require." Stunned, I looked at Michael, standing by the door. His facial
expression was impassive. While he was a handsome man, I didn't know him.
'Take him into my house,' I thought, 'that's crazy. He may be a thief, rapist
or killer. Besides, I like my freedom.' I was about to decline and leave when
Michael said, "My mother wants only the best for me, Mistress Margo. I can
assure you that what my mother promises, she will deliver and no harm will
come to you. You have my word. I do not believe you will be disappointed."

There was something in the man's voice that reassured me although I still had
doubts. I sat staring into his eyes for a full minute before turning to Madam
DuPres and saying, "Alright, I accept your terms."

The old lady nodded and smiled. Michael brought a small pot and placed it in
the center of the table between the two of us. He also brought what looked
like a tray of herbs, seeds and sticks. The old lady began talking in Creole
or French, I couldn't be sure which and Michael didn't translate. She lit some
of the leaves on fire and the smoke soon filled the small room. "Breathe deep,
Mistress Margo," Michael said, as he fanned the smoke in my direction, "allow
the power of the spell deep into your lungs."

I couldn't be sure how much time had passed because I felt a little
light-headed. When the fog lifted, I was in the back seat of a car being
driven by Michael. I looked at my surroundings and knew I was nearing my
house. 'Was I asleep,' I thought. "What happened?" I asked. Michael, looked in
the rearview mirror and said, "You fell asleep, mistress, I carried you to the
car." I nodded in reply, not really remembering.

"I will need to look in on my mother from time to time," Michael said as he
pulled to my gate, "Otherwise I will be at your disposal, mistress. What is
your gate code?" I shook my head to clear it and gave Michael the code. If the
man was impressed by the size of my house, he didn't show it, but after
bringing the car to a halt, he got out and held the door open for me as he did
the front door.

I felt as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep. 'I can't believe this,'
I thought as I entered the house. 'I've allowed myself to take in a total
stranger for the sake of vanity,' I thought, 'and look what it's gotten me,
nothing.' I studied my forearms and the backs of my hands. They didn't look
any different than when I had left earlier. "I'm going to take a nap,
Michael," I said over my shoulder, kicking off my stilettos. "Yes, mistress,"
he said, and then added, picking up the shoes. "I'll find my room." 'Hmmf,' I
thought, 'You won't be staying long, so don't get too comfortable.'

My bed looked so inviting. I lay down and soon I was asleep, not bothering to
remove my jeans or tank top. When I woke, I felt rested, better than rested
actually, invigorated. I had no idea how long I had slept. As I put her feet
on the floor, I thought, 'I must be gaining weight, these pants are tight in
the legs', and then looking at my feet, 'They seem bigger. What I need is a
hot shower.' I stood up and padded to the bathroom, unbuttoning my jeans as I
went and slipping them off.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and couldn't believe what she saw. My
thighs were large and not just large, but well defined. "What is this?" I said
aloud to myself. I pulled my tank top over my head and sat it on the counter.
Now clad only in bra and panties, I studied myself. My shoulders were broad,
arms defined and my breasts were barely contained by my bra. 'Something had
happened, but what?' I thought.

I slid my panties down my heavily muscled thighs and stepped out of them and
then reaching behind me, unfastened my bra allowing it to fall to the floor as
my breast sprang free. They were firm, what little sag I had had before had
disappeared. I placed a hand under each breast and gently massaged my nipples.
They responded at once, becoming hard and erect. 'Hmm,' I thought, 'that's
nice.'

I caught movement in the mirror and my breath caught as I saw Michael in the
doorway. I immediately covered my breasts with a forearm and my crotch with my
other hand. "What are you doing? Get out!" I said. "I'm sorry mistress," he
said looking at the floor, "I heard you get up and came to see if I could help
or if you needed anything."

"No, I don't ... " and as I turned to face him I saw that he was completely
naked. He held my stilettos in one hand and had his other hand on the door
jamb. His penis, which was flaccid hung down. 'My God,' I thought to myself,
'he must be ten or twelve inches.' Unconsciously, I ran my tongue across my
lips and dropped my hand from covering her pubis. I could feel a tingling
sensation in my genitals.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, trying to sound calm and in control. I
felt anything but calm. It had been months since I had been with a man, let
alone a handsome, well-endowed man. He moved toward me and took my shirt from
the counter. He was no more than two feet from me and I looked into his eyes,
dark brown and deep. 'That's odd,' I thought, 'I thought he was much taller
than me.'

"Would you like me to wash your back, mistress," he said and then in a softer
voice, "or shave your legs or genitals?" I blinked as Michael knelt in front
of me retrieving my panties I had stepped out of. "Wh-what," I asked, sure
that I hadn't heard him correctly. He repeated, "I asked if you wanted me to
wash your back or shave your legs and genitals?" I could feel the man's breath
on my pubis. It excited me.

"Hmm," I hummed, "I, er, that would be nice," I said before I had even thought
about it. Michael stood and sat my shoes and clothing on the bathroom counter.
"Very good, mistress, allow me to adjust the water," he said and reached into
the stall and adjusted the handles. As Michael leaned forward, I noted his
small firm ass, muscled back and strong legs.

"Do you have a pair of scissors?" he asked. I nodded and pointed to a drawer
just under the bathroom counter. Michael got the scissors and knelt once more
in front of me and proceeded to trim my pubic hair. His touch was gentle and
he was quick. He was careful to gather all of the shorn hair and place it in
the trash. "I will shave you in the shower, mistress," he said and again, I
could only nod.

We stepped into the shower and I began to lather myself with scented body wash
but Michael quickly took over. "Allow me, mistress," he said.

I had never had a male or female companion attend to my body as Michael was.
He applied shave gel to my legs and pubis and shaved my body expertly without
so much as a nick. His touch was gentle. He applied shampoo to my short black
hair and ran his strong fingers through it working the soap deep into my
scalp.

As they stepped from the shower, Michael was quick to wrap a bath towel around
me, blotting me dry. "Let me apply some lotion," he whispered in my ear. "Yes,
please," I said. As he reached for the lotion on the bathroom counter, I felt
his manhood brush my hip. 'Hmm, he's without a doubt the largest man I've ever
seen,' I thought.

Lightly he applied the scented oil to my body, his fingers working the liquid
into my skin and muscles. I tensed slightly when his fingers found my clitoris
and I closed my eyes and moaned lightly. "Take me," I whispered, "make love to
me." Michael, in back of her, put his lips to her ear and said, "Yes,
mistress," and with that, he effortlessly carried me to my bed.

He placed me on the bed and stood beside it watching me. I looked up at
Michael through half closed lids and as I did, I saw his penis begin to stir.
I smiled and my eyes widened as his manhood stiffened. Somewhat in disbelief,
I reached out and took his shaft in my hand, my grip not able to close around
its girth. "You're magnificent, Michael," I said softly. He smiled and said,
"Thank you, mistress, I hope I please you," as he knelt between my legs.

I moaned as he entered me, although he was gentle, I knew he was the largest
man I had been with. However, with each thrust, any discomfort abated and soon
their bodies were moving as one.

I was lost in ecstasy, but I noted that something was happening to my body. I
quickly pushed it out of my mind as I savored Michael's attention and love
making. Our sex was passionate and prolonged. "More," I whispered, "I want
more," as he dove deeper. The tempo of Michael's thrusting quickened as we
both climaxed

For several minutes, Michael lay atop me, panting. Both of us were bathed in
sweat. "Hmm," I finally managed to utter, "That was wonderful," and pushing on
Michael's shoulder, rolled him to the opposite side of the bed. "Yes,
mistress," he said, lying on his back, his penis once again flaccid and
drained. I raised herself on one elbow and looked at him and smiled. I took
his penis in my hand and squeezed, a droplet of cum escaping from its head.
"Will you be able to perform again, baby?" I asked and chuckled. "Yes,
mistress," he said, softly. "Good," I said releasing my grip.

I stepped from the bed, but before I could walk away, Michael said, "The final
part of your transformation is complete, mistress. My mother hopes you will be
pleased." I tilted my head and looked at Michael giving him a quizzical look.
"Go, see for yourself," he said.

I padded to the mirrored wardrobe and looked at myself. My mouth opened
slightly as if to ask a question, but I was speechless. What looked back at me
from the mirror was a goddess, a muscle goddess. From head to toe she was the
most muscular woman I had ever seen. I turned and looked over my shoulder at
my back and butt.

Facing my reflection again, I ran a hand over my muscular abdominals. 'Hard,'
I thought, 'and I'm not even tensing them.' I traced my fingers down to my
navel and beyond. With my index finger I touched my clit and laughed lightly.
'Even that's hard too,' I thought.

Flexing my arm, I watched as my bicep exploded. I brought up my other arm into
a double bicep pose. 'Let's see those bitches on stage top this,' I thought. I
crossed my arms across my chest and my neck all but disappeared, replaced
instead by the most muscular trapezius muscle I had ever seen. I smiled as I
turned first one way and then the other.

I glanced at the reflection of Michael lying on the bed watching my display of
feminine might. "What do you think, baby?" I asked. He smiled and said, "I
think you're the most amazing woman in the world, mistress." I laughed and
said, "Thank you, baby."

I extended one leg and shook my massive thigh muscles. My quads jiggled and
then I tightened them the muscles standing out deeply defined. Thick veins ran
just under the skin. I poked one with my finger.

Michael got off the bed and came to me. "You're gorgeous," he said, running a
hand over my shoulder and bicep, "an Amazon." 'Amazon,' I thought, and then
asked him, "Will my muscles go away?" "No, mistress," he said, "as long as you
work out and as long as you feed your body." "Feed my body?" I asked. "Yes,
mistress, my mother said that you must feed your body; have sex, pleasure
yourself, as well as workout, and your body will remain as you see it."

I turned again to the mirror and said, "Then we better get started feeding my
body again," and laughed as I grasped his penis and led him back to the bed.
'I can't wait to show Rhonda the new Mistress Margo,' I thought, 'she was
right, sometimes you just have to think outside the box.'