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Old 24-Oct-19, 09:37
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Default Re: Beast Legs

Y'all like ladies with big thighs?

*checks forum title*

Yeah ya do. Here, have some more, same buyer as Mama Badass.
=====
Betty Washington (Née Bollier) came from a long line of athletes. Her mother had been an Olympic track star, and her father had a short soccer career. It was only natural, then, that she ended up marrying an athletic man herself, a former All-American collegiate wrestler-turned-boxer with a winning, if not outstanding, record on the professional circuit. Their son, taking after his parents, had joined the hockey team at his high school, and become extremely invested in all the school sports. That, in fact, was what got the family together today, her son’s love of school sports, to watch a local broadcast of a high school wrestling meet across town.

She herself was never an athlete, not competitively anyway, but she did have a love of bicycles. While she’d abandoned her ideas of a Tour-de-France run one day, she still took great joy in pushing herself on a racing bike, riding through town in the skintight suit that showed off her powerful thighs. In truth, she was proud of her thighs, though she would never admit it, not with the way her husband and son treated her about them. Even she would have had to admit it wasn’t really conventionally attractive, and quite a contrast to the demure housewife she presented herself as, and they certainly made her love of skirts a little hard to indulge in. Still, they were a sign of how hard she worked at the cycling. She appreciated their athletic accomplishments, after all, he just wished that they would appreciate hers without mocking the physical results. She could hardly ride as well as she did without some physical changes to her body, after all, and her thighs were a sign of how good she was at what she loved to do.

To them, though, well...

“Hey, beast-legs,” her husband called out to her, as the event paused briefly between rounds for a short conversation with the competitor, “Go pour me a beer, would you?”

“Me too, mom!” Her son added.

“You’re too young to drink, James,” she answered sternly, “But I’ll get you a glass of grapefruit juice.”

“You going to squeeze it fresh, mom?” He asked. She took a moment to try to understand what he’d just asked since she’d never done that before, but he quickly added, “I mean, I see you got a lemon press out,” he said, pointing at her legs.

“Ha! Good one, Junior!” Her husband congratulated him on the comment, raising a hand for a high-five, as Betty slunk off to the kitchen, leaving the laughing pair behind her.

She had never minded a little bit of teasing, of course, she’d grown up with five brothers, and the nickname ‘Beast-legs Betty’ (or ‘Beast-Legs Bollier’ at school) had stuck to her not long after she’d taken up bicycling, but it always seemed to come more at night, especially when they had some sport to watch. She sighed as she poured her husband his drink, and got the bottle of lemonade out of the refrigerator.

Then, curious for a moment, she placed it to the side and pulled out a grapefruit instead. It was a big one, even for the breed of oversized fruit, but she examined it for a moment, running her hands over the ridges, and then lowered down and placed it between her thighs. She gripped it for a moment, and then stiffened, squeezing against the citrus’s skin.

Naturally, it didn’t stand a chance. There was no hard shell like a watermelon, after all, and she was more interested in whether or not she could than showing off anyway. It crumpled like an old tin can, and the juices rolled down her thighs. She smiled at the feeling, not thrilled by the taunt that had provoked it but happy to know she could when she heard a voice from the other room.

“Damnit, Betty, what the hell’s taking so long, ya stop to shave your legs or something?!”

“No!” She answered back quickly, finishing pouring the grapefruit juice and quickly wiping the liquid from her thighs, “No, no, sorry, just... Just dropped something!” She called out, stopping for just a second to make sure the juice was no longer staining her.

Both her husband’s chair and the couch her son was sitting on had their backs to the kitchen entrance, so the pair of them didn’t see her come in with their drinks. On the screen, she saw that the next match had started, with a girl from her son’s school taking on a boy from their cross-town rivals.

Although, honestly, taking on might have been a little bit generous as far as describing what was happening onscreen. The girl was a wrestler, after all, and like any wrestler, she had plenty of meat on her bones. Meat that was, at the moment, wrapping around the midsection of the cross-town rival boy, crushing his midsection, while she held down his shoulders. She couldn’t quite seem to get him pinned to the mat, but that didn’t seem to be that important. She could see the boy’s face starting to turn purple in the face of his opponent’s overpowering squeeze. She couldn’t see the young man’s midsection, of course, not with the full singlet covering it up, but she was sure by now his body had turned a pale white from the crush, and likely his abs were starting to bruise. It was an exciting thought, the idea of controlling someone with just her legs, crushing their body the way she had just crushed the grapefruit with her thighs. As a mother, she had seen plenty of pained expressions on young men’s faces, seeing them pick up knicks and bruises was a natural, so she knew the pain that the young man must have been experiencing between those legs.

She soon realized she wasn’t the only one getting excited by the images onscreen.

“Damn, she’s really something, isn’t it,” her husband commented.

“Yeah, she’s... She’s really, uh...” Her son started, “Umm... Cool. Yeah, she’s cool.”

“You ever talk to her?” He asked.

“Nah... I mean, I thought about it, but like... I dunno, she’s... She’s just really cool.”

“You oughta,” the older man advised, “If you can get the attention of a girl wi-”

“Got your drinks!” She quickly interrupted, and couldn’t help laughing a little at the sight of her two men responding. Her son practically jumped right out of his seat, and her husband whipped his head around so hard she half expected him to fall out of his chair.

“Oh, uh, hi mom!” Her son said nervously.

“Hey, Betty. Uh, Beast-Legs. Uh, Betty!” Her husband responded, blushing a little bit as she handed her son the glass of juice. As he took it, she temporarily glanced down between his legs and saw the undeniable signs of an erection tenting against his pants. She’d thought she’d heard a hint of excitement in his voice, but she hadn’t been sure. Besides, he was a teenager, they had unwanted and untimely erections, all the time.

Still, she had a theory about that, and one that was at least somewhat confirmed when she passed by her husband and saw ‘something’ pressing out against his jeans as well. He took it without talking, his eyes glued to the screen.

She sat down on her chair and watched the two men who seemed spellbound by the image onscreen. It wasn’t anything that unexpected, aside from the dominant power of the girl’s legs, certainly nothing that would merit the jaw-dropped looks of admiration that she saw from her son and husband. She liked to watch the crushing, but, well, she knew for a fact that they didn’t care for women with thick thighs like that.

Or did they? With a small smile on her face, she decided to test that theory.

The whistle blew to end the match, with the girl having managed a dominant and undeniable victory over her male opponent. As soon as she was offscreen, her husband and son leaned back, listening to the local announcer discuss the results and watching them set up the next bout. They had looked practically hypnotized while the girl was onscreen, but now that she was gone, they were back to their usual selves. Although, she did see her son sneaking a few looks at her legs, and she had her suspicions her husband might be as well. He had known her for longer, though, and, if her theory was right, had more experience hiding his interest in her unusually proportioned body.

He saw them perk up a little when the girl stepped out onto the mat once more, and chose that moment to strike, crossing her legs under her skirt, and then tensing them just a little to make them bulge with power. Her son’s eyes bulged like he’d just seen an alien land in front of him and offer a blowjob, and a second later he started to cough, the grapefruit juice having journeyed down the wrong pipe in his excitement to see her legs.

She relaxed them as her husband turned his head to her, although it was hard to ‘relax’ such large muscles to the point of completely fading, and for a moment she could see the excitement in his eyes, though he quickly tried to cover it up.

“Come on, beast-legs, sit straight, you look like a horse when you do that.”

“Y-yeah!” Her son added, “I just drank this wrong ‘cause I thought the minotaur had showed up in my house!”

They were being rude, but she could see the reason for it now, and she just smiled at their responses, now that she understood them. She had, quite naturally, assumed that the response had come from a genuine dislike and distaste in her body. Now, she realized, quite the opposite was the case. They weren’t disgusted by her. They were just trying to hide just how much they liked what they saw.

The second match featured the girl from her son’s school again, and she saw her husband and son immediately lean forward, falling back into the trance of watching the large-legged young woman at work once more. She was watching as well, but for a different reason, trying to understand the appeal that the girl had. Obviously, every man wanted to be between a beautiful young woman’s legs, but that wasn’t typically the way they wanted it to happen. Though she supposed her husband had always been exceptional, and her son had always taken after him. This was just another way they were alike.

When the match started, she slowly hiked up the hem of her skirt, making sure that her husband and son alike could see the powerful muscles in her legs, crossing them a little tighter. They wouldn’t admit it, but it got the point across, and despite the excitement they had shown for the competitors when the match had started, the pair seemed to be incapable of choosing where to best focus their attention, whether it was on the girl on the screen or the woman in the room.

She decided to answer it for them, uncrossing her legs, setting them, only to cross them again on the other side, muscles pressed against the fabric of her skirt. She could see the two men shift, her son crossing his legs as well, and her husband seeming to need to adjust something in his seat.

“Hey, Betty, could you go a-”

He started to ask, and she interrupted him by tensing the muscles of her legs completely until they stood out against her flesh like a roadmap of power.

He stopped talking, his eyes on her thighs, then up to her face. She met his gaze but pretended not to know what he was so excited by.

“Yes, Jim?” She asked, “Was there something you wanted?” She punctuated the question by flexing her thighs again.

He paused for a moment, and then faked a loud yawn, “Ahhhhhh... I just feel so tired all of a sudden. Do you want to come to bed with me, babe?” He asked.

“Oh, happily,” she responded, standing up and leading the way to the bedroom, swaying her hips a little as she did to make sure he saw her thighs as she walked.

She stepped into the room, and quickly dropped her skirt and top, leaving her only in her black lingerie. Black was a practical color, after all, you didn’t need to worry as much about washing it with other colors, and it was often cheap. It looked good on her, too.

Her husband wasn’t far behind her (obviously, how could he have been willing to wait with how excited he seemed?) and she felt his hand strike her ass the moment he stepped into the room.

“Are you sure that’s the part of my body you want to touch?” She asked him, swiftly turning around. He had already removed his shirt, though not his pants, seemingly so eager to get to bed with her that he couldn’t wait to even say hello before starting to strip down.

He feigned confusion in response to her question, “What do you mean, babe?” He asked.

She pressed her body close, rubbing her thighs along his, “What I mean, love, is that I saw how you were watching that match, I saw how excited you got when you were looking at my legs, I saw how easily distracted you were by my thighs. I know you love my legs, Jim, I know you want them wrapped around you. You could have asked any time, I’d have been happy to indulge!”

He shook his head, but his growing arousal against her told a different story. Men could lie about what they liked, but their bodies couldn’t, and right now that part of him was screaming that she was right, that he wanted nothing more than to feel her thighs around his body.

“No, honey, nothing like that,” he said, “It’s been a few days, and anything would have got me excited. You know you’re beautiful, Betty, but come on, you got the legs of a horse.” He said it smoothly, but the look in his eyes told a different story. He didn’t look mean or taunting, he looked like he was looking for a sign that his denial had worked.

“Oh, do I?” She asked. He nodded, and she pressed her thigh harder against the bulge in his pants, “I didn’t know you wanted to fuck horses.” She told him.

He blushed “I don’t, Betty!” He said quickly.

“Oh, you don’t? You certainly feel like you do, pressed up against my ‘beast’ legs,” she taunted him, reaching down and pressing her hand against his ass, “If you don’t want that, then there’s an easy way to prove it.”

“And what would that be?” He asked.

“Wrestle me,” she answered simply, “You were a college wrestler, if you don’t love my legs, then you shouldn’t have a problem, right?” He paused, and she prodded him, “Right?”

She knew that he must have had a thousand thoughts running through his mind right now, but mostly that he wanted it, whether he’d admit it or not.

Finally, he stepped away from her, “Alright, Betty, we can do this,” he said, “but when I win, I don’t wanna hear any more of this nonsense about me liking your legs so much.”

“And WHEN I win,” she responded, “It’s all you’ll hear for a long time.”

There was no bell, it was after all just an informal contest at home, but it was as if they had both heard it when they sprung into action, stepping in and grabbing onto each other. Her husband was a large man, and while his days of wrestling were long gone and he had gained plenty of non-muscle weight, he still had strength to spare. When they locked up, he immediately began to push, and she immediately began to slip backward.

She couldn’t outmuscle him in the upper body, but after a second, she remembered what it was he had liked so much, and set her feet, trying to keep steady with her thighs instead of her arms and torso. In an instant, everything changed, and they came to a standstill. His power, so overwhelming a mere second ago, seemed to suddenly fade to nothing and he couldn’t budge her. She smiled up at him, pleased to see the shocked look on his face when he realized she had stopped him.

“Is something wrong, dear?” She asked, tensing her legs and feeling his struggles increase against her power. She felt him increase his effort, pouring on more muscle, but she countered by tensing harder and it was as if he had all the strength of a tiny child. He’d always seemed so strong and capable of overpowering her (anyone, really) but right now, life seemed to have changed and be operating on dream logic. She could feel his muscles bulging, she could see his bare, hairy pecs and powerful arms, but in the face of her thighs, he might as well not have been there.

“Betty, what in the he-” He started, and she didn’t let him finish, stepping forward, wrapping one of her powerful legs around the back of his, pulling back while leaning forward with all she had. He might as well have been some sort of practice dummy for all the effort it took, and the pair of them fell to the ground together, his back slamming onto the hard floor of their bedroom.

“Betty, what are y-” He began to speak, but she cut him off, kissing him powerfully to distract him while she repositioned into what she believed from the announcing she heard was something called a half guard, their legs intertwined as if she was trying to grind on his thigh. In truth, his thigh was her target, but not for grinding, she wanted to see just how strong her legs really were. She squeezed her legs together, large biker’s thighs bulging and crushing his muscles as if they were made from balled-up tissue paper.

“AGGHHHHH!” The only thing that silenced his scream was her lips covering his, and she pulled her legs tighter, increasing the pressure. She didn’t want their son to hear what was happening, so she kept up the kiss, massaging his tongue with hers, while she poured on the force, and like some sort of pressure-activated dog toy, his screams grew louder in her mouth. Was he just surprised? He’d always seemed so powerful. How could he be so weak now?

She needed the answer, she released him for a moment, and he looked up at her, gasping in shock. “Betty, what are y-”

“Tense,” She said quickly.

He looked up at her, “What do you mean tense?”

“Tense.” She ordered him again and clarified by crushing her thighs down and making him cry out.

“AGHHH-MMMMMF!” She’d forgotten about his voice, and cut off his cry with her hand over his lips. After a second of torture, she released her hold and looked down at him again.

“Tense,” she commanded, and this time he did if only for the moment of protection. She felt his thighs flex out against hers, and flexed back.

The result was the same. He knew it was coming, had tried to fight it, and his power had been like that of a shadow, she crushed him like his muscles were foam, and got the same scream as before. She dove in like a hungry animal, resuming the kiss to keep him quiet, holding the back of his head to press him to her lips.

She’d established all she needed to know. All he would need to know as well, as far as she was concerned. She was dominant. Her thighs were better. As far as she was concerned, it was over. She pulled back.

“Submit.” She commanded him. He didn’t answer, looking up at her. Was he denying the power in her legs? Her muscles had just crushed his into bruised mincemeat, and he wasn’t willing to give in? He couldn’t accept that she had the power here? What was WRONG with him? She glared, and repeated the command, “Submit!,” following it up by crushing down on his thighs once more.

“GGGHHHHHHHHH!” He had his teeth gritted and writhed beneath her, she felt his shaft press against her musclebound thigh as he twisted, felt his arousal growing despite his torture, but he still wouldn’t give in. He’d always been a proud man, of course, but it wasn’t pride to deny what they could both see and feel. She saw him raise his hand, and thought for a moment he was about to tap out, but no, he reached out almost blindly as if he wanted to push her away, and she let him touch her side, if he needed more proof he was trapped, she would let him have it.

“SUBMIT!” She ordered a final time and squeezed with all she had. His cry of agony in response was almost horrifying to her, but at this point, she didn’t care if their son became aware, her husband’s defiance of her will could be an abject lesson in pride. The man’s hand grasped against her muscles, but he just shook his head, still refusing to tap out.

She had a bit of a mean smile on her lips at that. She would have liked to have him tap out, of course, but if he wouldn’t, it would give her a chance to continue the attack. She released her grip on his leg, but only to give herself a chance to twist around and wrap her python thighs around his midsection.

He didn’t put up much of a fight against her as she clasped her legs around his body. He wasn’t in any position to, and her legs were more powerful than anything the man had shown so far. She scooted down against his side, pressing the V of her legs against his body, locked her ankles, and started to crush his midsection.

She’d gone high on his body, choosing the rib-protected chest out of the small bit of mercy she had left, so it was shocking how little resistance she met. She would have expected the hard bone to stop her, but she found she had to stop herself. Not that it made much of a difference in the long run, as he began to writhe like a fish out of water between her legs. She laughed as she realized her power, how little the mighty man could do to stop her from enforcing her will on his body.

His hand came up to try to push her away, and she intercepted it, bringing it down to rub along her thigh. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” She asked, “You wanted to feel these legs around your body?” She asked, forcing her to massage her muscular upper legs.

“B-Betty, I-AAGHHHHHHH!” He started, but she didn’t let him finish. She tensed her thighs, and felt his hand push out suddenly. She gripped on his wrist as a punishment, squeezing tighter, before she realized it wasn’t that he had tried to pull his hand away or strike her. The sudden movement had been a result of her pure muscle mass. Her legs were just that strong when they tensed!

Even she was impressed by her own strength and began to slowly rub her husband’s hand along her thighs. She couldn’t be sure if he was just too exhausted and shocked to try to stop it, or if he was enjoying feeling her power as much as she was, but she had no trouble using his hand to massage her legs. Her smile spread wider over her lips, and she looked at her own legs, truly seeing them for the first time. She had never liked to look at her legs, a lifetime of mockery had made her feel uncomfortable with them, but now she could see them, and their power for the first time.

Then she saw a small light fall over her thighs. The room was mostly dark, but there was still a light from the hall, and that could only mean one thing. Their son had noticed - And, seeing that the light started on her legs instead of trailing away to the door, it meant he was standing in the way as well. He was watching. A few minutes ago, she would have been ashamed, but now she was fine with it. Let him watch, if he wanted, she’d show him how powerful she was.

Without acknowledging him, letting him think she didn’t know and was addressing her husband, she murmured “These are some amazing thighs, aren’t they? I’m so strong... Here, grip my thighs...” She pushed her husband’s hand down against her leg muscles, and then laughed, “Then let them grip you!” She added as she squeezed down with her full force.

Her husband’s back arched up high, and with the tiny amount more light, she could see his stiff shaft bulging out against his pants and underwear. That knowledge, that her pressure was doing this to him, destroying him like this, was like an award for putting up with decades of mockery from her brothers and her son.

“I see you do like this!” She announced, “Or at least one part of you likes it,” she added, releasing his hand on her thigh and reaching down to grope his cock. She should have been embarrassed to do this in front of her son, but she couldn’t be at this point, this was her power, and if her son wanted to watch, let him. Even with her hand now away from his, he didn’t even try to pull his hand away, instead he pressed closer, feeling the iron of her muscles.

“Yeah, you really like it, don’t you?” She asked, reaching out with the other hand to slap him across the face, and gripping his cock tight to give a few quick pumps through the cloth. He didn’t answer her, perhaps from humiliation and perhaps from pure satisfaction at feeling her work his cock and press her legs against him.

“Bet you’ve wanted me to do this for years. Bet you dream about it every night. Bet you’ve been jacking off to my legs every chance you got, huh?” She taunted him, her hand pumping his cock to drive in the point. “You always wanted this, didn’t you?” Still no answer except a helpless gasp

“Too bad!” She concluded, “Because this isn’t about getting you off. This is a match, baby, and now it’s OVER!” She announced and tensed her muscles to crush his body.

He screamed out helplessly at that, and the hand that had been pushing and rubbing over her thighs immediately began to tap out frantically on them, the man helpless and overwhelmed by her might. She didn’t stop yet, though, increasing the pressure pound by pound while she felt his ribs bending in. His taps came faster, like a drumbeat against her thigh, and she twisted her legs back and forth, rolling her hips to add to the torture. As far as she was concerned, he had brought this on himself by refusing to submit earlier. If he wanted extra time between her legs when he was so clearly outclassed and destroyed by them, he could have it.

She heard his breath coming faster, rapid attempts to get his lungs to expand against her crushing thighs, and she kept them on for just a few more seconds, feeling his body stiffen in panic as he realized she could crush him unconscious with her legs. Only once she was sure he knew that he was caught and hers did she let go, letting him breathe once more, but keeping the weight of her muscles around his midsection as a reminder of the power he was contending with.

She felt his chest rising and falling against her legs, first slow as he regained his breath, then shallow and sudden. For a moment she was worried (or proud) that she might have done some serious damage, but it didn’t seem to get worse or change, and after a few more seconds, he returned to normal, lying beaten between her thighs.

“Betty, we-”

“Time for bed,” she cut him off. He had started to say something, but she didn’t care what it was, she cut him off just to remind him of his position, make sure he didn’t forget it even as she untangled her legs from his body and rose to her feet. Through the little sliver of light from the door, she could see his shock and frustration, even humiliation she suspected, at what had just happened.

He began to sit up, slowly, “Betty, I n-”

“Time for bed,” she interrupted him again, and bent down, hooking her arms under his like a full nelson hold. She felt him struggle a little as she dragged him up to his feet, but he couldn’t do much, and when she began to walk him towards the bed, he had no hope of stopping her.

“Betty, what are you doing?” He asked, giving up on his attempts to stand still when one single stop was brushed aside with an easy push of her thighs.

“You’re clearly too weak to get there on your own,” she answered, “And I don’t want to watch you flop around trying to get in bed after what I just did to you.”

She threw him facedown on the mattress on his side, then bent to grab his legs. He didn’t even object, either too humiliated or surprised, when she lifted them up and put him in bed on her own like he was some lifeless object. She walked around to her side, slipping under the covers beside her helpless husband.

She saw a slight motion from the doorway, and heard the distinctive rustling sound of someone trying to move silently and not having the skill to accomplish it.

“I know you saw that,” she called out into the darkness, and the sound stopped. She smiled to herself, knowing her son had frozen in place and was trying not to move, trying to pretend he hadn’t been watching his ‘beast-legged’ mother outwrestle his father. Even outwrestle seemed a bit too tame, she considered, she completely dominated and humiliated the former college standout.

“You can pretend you’re not there if you like, it doesn’t change anything for me,” she added, leaning back on the pillow and stretching her long, powerful, conquering legs out in front of her, “I know you’re there, I know you’re watching, and I know you loved it. And I just wanted to say, about that girl we were watching, you’re welcome to ask her out if you like, I’d love to have her over for dinner sometime, but you best not forget what a woman with real legs like that can do to you. ‘Cause I’m not going to let you get away with acting like you don’t love those thighs, you hear?”

There was still no sound, the young man wanted to act like he didn’t care or hadn’t seen what he’d just seen, but she wouldn’t let that stand either. She laughed, “Fine, keep acting all quiet, Jay-Jay,” she told him, using a nickname she hadn’t referred to him with since grade school, “But I know you’re here, I know you loved it. And if you want to sneak off to your room and jack off to the thought of your mother’s thighs crushing you, I just want you to know that these walls are a century old and paper-thin, and I’ll know about that too. But please, do, I’d love to hear what you think of me.”

The young man scampered off, down the hall to his room, and she let him without much objection. Instead, she reached over to her bedside table and grabbed a book-clip reading light that she used for her bedtime reading. Her husband could fall asleep at the drop of a hat if he wanted, she’d always envied that ability of his, so she would stay up and use the light to read without disturbing him.

Now, though, she had a different purpose for it, as she pulled it off the cover of “Blazing Saddles: The Cruel and Unusual History of the Tour de France.” She flicked on the light and brought it down to scan not the pages of some story or work of history, but the contours of her own legs. She’d looked over them many times, usually with shame, but it felt like this was the first time she ever truly saw her own muscles and body. They were beautiful, they were like ancient mountain ranges of power, crevasses carved into the pure rock of her muscles.

She heard a sound from the room behind her and chuckled. Her son was a moaner, even when masturbating, and he was making some effort to hide that this time. Unfortunately for him, his preferred method involved a fleshlight he liked to pretend he could successfully hide being stuffed between the mattress and humping it. He could silence himself, but he couldn’t silence the bed bumping against the wall. She chuckled and shook her head, then knocked on the wall between them.

“I can hear you in there!” She called out.

“Nguhhhhhhh!” He couldn’t suppress that part either, and she laughed loud enough to be sure he heard at his blast.

“Wow, forty seconds in, glad to know I still got it. Now go to sleep, okay?”

There was no answer, but she heard the distinctive scooting around and rearranging of her son getting into bed and getting ready for his sleep. She laughed at that. They really did like her legs, huh? She’d just destroyed her husband and made her son a premature ejaculator on the same night. She felt warm inside like she was fulfilling a fantasy she didn’t even know she had. She was beautiful, powerful, and, based on the speed with which her kid finished, apparently fucking gorgeous by any standard too. She rubbed her chest, like she liked to when teasing herself, then reached down and stroked her own thighs, an aroused chill pumping through her. It was better than her breasts, better than her clit even, because unlike those, she knew her legs had completely conquered someone. They weren’t just hot, they were powerful, and she gasped to feel her own muscle. Quiet as it is, the gasp sounded like an ecstatic cry in the silent room. All was quiet now, her son drained and husband beat, not a noise to be heard except her own aroused breaths.

And now that she thought about it, that was kind of strange. Her husband was a snorer, and a pretty loud one, too. Both of them were, it was why her son had never been able to pretend to be asleep (or her husband, when he was trying to get out of chores.) He shouldn’t have been awake at this point, he’d been lying down for several minutes.

“Having trouble getting to sleep dear?” She asked.

“Jussabit...” He muttered.

An idea came to her, “Don’t worry,” she answered, “I’ll help,” and she twisted around, wrapping her thick, strong thighs around his head and starting to squeeze, pressing his mouth and nose against the mighty meat of her leg muscles.

For a moment, she felt him squirm and twist around, and she squeezed tighter, smothering him and crushing his head between her legs at the same time. For a moment, he reached up to grasp at her legs, and try to push them away, but it was nothing but an instinct that was soon squashed by her power. She felt her flesh press into his mouth and nose, as he made increasingly desperate attempts to suck in some air, squirming and struggling against her. He knew how to swim and had plenty of lung capacity, so he didn’t pass out too quick, but she didn’t mind. The longer he struggled, the more fun it was for her to feel. Eventually, three minutes in, his body went limp and he passed out, and she finally released her grip. She checked his chest to make sure he was breathing, and when she was satisfied (if secretly a little disappointed) that there was no danger of any trouble coming from her leg-muscle lullaby, she rolled over on her own. She typically liked to read a little bit before bed, but not tonight, tonight she didn’t want to do or think anything that could interrupt this moment. She was almost afraid to sleep, as if the whole night might have been a dream and sleeping would wake her back up in the real world, where her legs were an object of mockery instead of lust, but inevitably, sleep she eventually did, drifting off into dreams of her newfound power.

Newfound beauty, too, at least to herself. As much as she loved her hobbies, more than she loved looking good, it was comforting to know that the mockery she had been so long subjected to was just a pretense, an attempt to maintain some level of superiority and deny the effect her body had. She wondered how many people who had taunted her for her legs had secretly lusted after them? Boys at school? Coworkers? Her brothers?

Maybe she could find out next time she saw them...

She’d often bowed at least a little to modesty and what she thought others found beautiful, but not anymore. Now that she knew just how awesome her legs were, nothing could hide them, and nothing should. After last night, she wanted her legs, her beauty, her power on display for all to see. She didn’t work anymore, motherhood had involved leaving her career to take care of the kid, and her husband made enough she never had to go back, but she still could impress people. Two very specific people, in fact, and she knew just how to do it, as she went into her closet and picked out one of her oldest, shortest skirts, and proceeded to pair it with a set of long silk pantyhose that made her muscles shine in the light. Her husband pretended not to notice, of course, and her son was always so tired in the morning, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if she was going around the house naked. She would need to wait until after his school day to find out what exactly he thought of her new clothing.

He wasn’t home directly after school, which wasn’t that unusual on a Friday. In fact, it wasn’t until well after seven, long after her husband had got home and dinner plans had been made that the young man came through the door. When he did, though, she got the answer she’d been waiting for, and even the way she’d been waiting for it. She was seated in the kitchen in her tiny skirt, legs crossed and in the perfect place to be visible as soon as anyone walked in. She could see his face through the window of the back door when he stopped, his eyes running swiftly over her thighs. She didn’t acknowledge it, giving him a moment to take in the sight before he stepped through the door.

“Evening dad,” the young man said as he entered, then nodded to his mother, “Evening beast-legs,” he added. The casual dismissal might have been annoying in the past, but knowing the motivation just made it cute.

“I never asked, Jay-Jay,” she looked up at him, carefully crossing her legs just that little bit tighter to make the muscles bulge out, “Why is it that you call me that? Is it because you cum like a wild beast whenever you think of them?”

“GAH! MOM!” He objected, his face blushing crimson at her words, “Don’t talk like that!”

“I heard you last night, Jay,” she answered, “After you saw what I did to your father. I know that it excited you.”

“Y-you,” her husband started to say, “You’re sure he heard that?”

“I know you heard him too, Jim,” she said, “And I know you like them just as much as he does.”

“I do not like them,” the young man objected, trying to step past her. She stretched out her long leg to the wall, effectively creating a gate that he couldn’t pass, and looked up in his eyes.

“Yes you do, Jay, and we both know it now. You dream of a woman with legs like mine. Don’t try to lie to your mother about things, I can always tell, and even if I couldn’t read your face like an open book, a man’s body never lies.”

He looked down at her and looked like he was preparing to object once more, but she wasn’t going to allow it. Before he could say a word, she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it down to her thigh, and keeping her eyes on the young man.

“Were you going to say something, Jay?” She asked, “Did you want to object?” She repeated, starting to run his hand along her thigh, rhythmically tensing and relaxing the muscles as she did. Whatever he had intended to say before, he wasn’t going to be able to now, his jaw went slack as she pulsed her legs and showed off her body against his. As she said before, a man’s body can’t lie even when he wants to, and his slowly stiffening shaft stood out as it pushed against his pants.

“You’re enjoying it,” she told him, “I can see that.”

“Now, hold on a minute here, Betty!”

Whatever resistance she had crushed in her husband the night before seemed to apply only to himself, as he stood up in protection of his son, “Now it’s one thing for you to get all excited about having won a wrestling match with me, that’s fine, and I’ll admit it, you did pretty damn well there, too. That doesn’t mean you get to go around acting all wanton and treating my kid like that!”

“He’s my son, too, Jim,” she told him, and stroked the young man’s hand over her thigh, moving it from the outside slowly up to the top to let him feel every muscle she had, “And I think he’s enjoying it. He sure looks like he is.”

“He’s touching a beautiful woman’s thigh, Betty!”

“Beautiful~?” She latched onto the word.

“Not the point right now!” He continued, “Betty, it’s nice you feel good about yourself and all, and yeah, maybe your thighs are kinda nice in the right light and everything, but I’m not having my wife act like some jezebel, ESPECIALLY in front of my son.”

She dropped her son’s hand and shot up to her feet, her husband doing the same, the two inches away in the middle of their kitchen, “Do I need to remind you why you don’t make the decisions here anymore?”

“Maybe you do!” He answered quickly.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she reached out, striking like an angry pit viper and grabbing him by his shoulders, squeezing in on the neck with her hands as hard as she could. He tried to do the same, but she knew a thing or two about anatomy and pain. She squeezed as soon as he moved to attack, and he was already wincing in pain as he raised his hands to try to lock up with her.

She let him touch her biceps, just to silence any claim that she’d jumped him and they hadn’t had a chance to lock up and wrestle. “Starting to remember?” She taunted him, squeezing tight to pump up the agony before twisting her body and swinging out her leg to trip him like she had before, sending him crashing down onto the hardwood floor in front of their son. He crashed to the ground as she used all the force she could muster, twisting not just with her abs but her powerful thighs to send the man crashing to the floor.

“Holy shit!” Her son stepped back, both out of surprise and a need to avoid his father crashing into him as she sent the large man to the ground. She looked up at her son for a moment, staring him down as if daring him to step in and try to help out his father, but if he had any thoughts of interfering in the contest, just that one quick, venomous look silenced them.

Her husband was starting to struggle up to his hands and knees, and now that she was convinced there was no chance of him interfering, she leaped on him, straddling his back, her thighs immediately wrapping around his core.

“DAMNIT!” He yelled, and then “AAAGGHHHHHHH!” As she squeezed in tighter around his body. Before she’d squeezed from the front and back, not a completely easy task, but limited in how much his muscles would come into play. Now she squeezed from the side, flexing her thighs to torture the man beneath her, and somewhat surprised and completely overjoyed to feel his muscles crumple easily as if all the manly power he had was nothing even worth thinking about compared to her legs.

“AAAAAGHHHHHH!” He was a large man, but despite the sheer mass of her thighs, she still had little trouble wrapping him up, and even less squeezing him back down, tormenting his abs, his stomach, his ribs, all his internal organs at once. When he was younger, he would have had enough hair for her to reach down and tug, but not anymore, and she had to settle for a swift strike to the back of the head which he responded to by ducking forward and covering his head against further blows.

She wasn’t going to go for the head much more anyway. Instead, she reached back, and struck the man’s ass, spanking him like she had their son so many times in the past, and making him cry out from the impact.

“How about now, Jim?” She demanded, “Do you remember now?” and then she continued, “Do you remember why I’m in charge NOW, JIM?!” Forcing him to answer by tightening her thighs and crushing again, making him scream like a little bitch.

“AGHHHHHHH!”

Added after 5 minutes:

(For some reason, I can't post any more of it, I think it's not letting me doublepost both parts?)
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Default Re: Beast Legs

“You’re too loud!” She told him, “Shut up!” and she proceeded to enforce her command on her own, releasing his midsection for only a single moment, and pulling herself forward, up his body and over his arms to wrap her powerful legs around his head, squeezing her thighs against the side of his head, and smothering him against her equally massive calves. She pulled her knees tighter to crush his head until she felt the skull starting to deform.

He whimpered and writhed beneath her, “Stop complaining, Jim, I know you want this, and you should be lucky I’m just putting you to sleep with these, I could do a lot worse, feel it?!” She yelled and squeezed tight as she could, so tight she was sure he couldn’t hear her words anyway. He twisted and pulled on her legs, then instinctively started slapping on her thighs to tap out of the match, but she wasn’t going to allow that anymore. Submitting to her wasn’t going to be enough this time, he’d proven that to her already. She’d let him tap out last time, after all, and now she needed to teach him the lesson again. Soon enough, she felt him flop down, completely limp and helpless beneath her.

He wasn’t the only one she needed to teach a lesson to either. She moved her legs enough to let the unconscious man at least catch a few breaths, but no more. She wasn’t done proving her point, and even while he was out, she tensed her thighs on his head, slowly rolling her hips to arouse herself as well. The whole time, she didn’t break her eye contact with her son, staring the young man down, as every pulse of her thighs was answered by a weak, unconscious groan from the man beneath her, and each roll of her hips continued with the dragging sound of his face against the floor.

While it wasn’t the normal way to end up there, and certainly not the way her son would be used to, she was a woman on her knees with her head at eye-level with the young man’s manhood. And she had to be honest with herself about one thing, as impressive as her husband was, that must have come from her side of the family because she had never seen Jim as impressively stiff as his son was right now.

“Do you still want to say you don’t like my legs, Jay?” She asked, not blinking as she spoke, and continuing to grind her husband’s face into the wood floor beneath them, and she felt him twitch, regaining consciousness. Before she spoke, she added, “And remember, I’m an inch away, I can SEE if you’re lying... And you’re not too old for your mother to take you over her knee. Or...” She said and pulled her calves and thighs tight to crush her husband against, and he writhed and squirmed helplessly, whimpering loud enough to be heard despite her muscle plugging his air, “Under it.”

Her son looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth just opened and closed like a beached fish, before he finally concluded, “N-no ma’am.”

“Then go to bed. Your father...” She squeezed tighter and felt him collapse once more, “Already has.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

The next day was a Saturday, which meant she had the house - And the men - All day, with neither school nor work to interrupt it, and she was going to take full advantage of her time with them. She started the day by picking out another one of her short skirts (her husband was pretending to still be asleep, but she knew he was watching) and then decided to make it even shorter, cutting off an extra inch from the bottom until if she was a man she would have been likely to get charged with public indecency for wearing it.

She made her own breakfast before her morning bike ride, taking longer on it than normal to ensure that her husband and son would have the chance to wake up and get going, meaning there’d be no way for them to avoid her when she got home. Once she did, she immediately picked up where the last night had left off, parading in the skirt and addressing her husband and son with the dominance she now knew they craved - And came to realize she had too.

“James,” she told her son, “I need you to do my laundry.”

“Don’t you do that, mom?” He asked.

“Not anymore I don’t,” she answered quickly, “Now you or Jim handle that. The same with cleaning the floors, making beds, and heaven knows I’ve been telling you to pick up after yourself for the last 18 years, it’s time you got to it!”

“But mom!” He started to object.

“No ‘Buts,’ James,” she told him, “I make the rules around here.”

“Nate and Jackie and Mike and I were going to hang out today!”

“Then they can hang out here while you wait for the clothes to dry.”

He may have wanted to say something, but the tone of her voice made it clear no argument or objection would be permitted. With the matter of her son settled, she turned to her husband, “And as for you, Jim,” she told him, “I made a shopping list that you’re going to have to handle. You can pick some extra things if some of those are on sale, but DON’T go over $75. You’ll have to handle that later, though, there’s still dishes left over from last night.”

“But Bett-”

“No arguments from you either, Jim, I’ve spent 23 years doing dishes, and I heard somewhere a marriage was SUPPOSED to be a partnership, so by my count, that means a good 8400 days of it being your turn to handle that task before I have to do it again. After you’re done with that and the shopping, you can clear all those damn wrestling trophies off the mantle and chest in the living room. They’re ugly, the gold clashes with the decor, nobody cares how good you were at something that was three decades ago, and quite frankly I think I’ve proved that I deserve them far more than you do anyway, so if they’re not gone by Monday, I’ll be etching my name over yours, understand?”

“You’re taking this too far, Betty,” he told her, “You may have won a couple scuffles, but I’m still the man of the house.”

“Jim,” she told him, using the voice she used to scold their son before she was sure he actually knew what he was doing, “In 23 years of marriage, one year of engagement, and three years of dating, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say and I never want to hear anything like it again, you hear?” She asked, then patted him politely on the cheek, “Now get to it.”

As her husband stepped back, she looked back at their son, staring at her, “What are you looking at? Laundry, James, NOW.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully - Or, rather, extremely eventfully, if one considered the event to be someone else doing the housework for a change and the two males casting occasional glances at her legs when they thought she wasn’t watching - Until around three, when her son’s friends came to the door. As usual, they let themselves in, tracking their muddy shoes over the wood floors as they stampeded in the way that 18-year olds do down to the basement to play some too-loud videogames or whatever it was that absorbed them. It was something she just had to put up with, she supposed.

Or rather, she USED to have to put up with. After all, it occurred to her, why should she still deal with that anymore? She stared at the mess on the floor for a moment, before calling out her son’s name.

“JAAAAMES!”

“JUST A MINUTE MOM!” He yelled back. Unfortunately for him, she was not in a ‘just a minute’ mood. She stood up from her chair and walked to the door to the basement staircase.

“NOW, James!” She yelled down.

“WE’RE FINISHING SOMETHING, MOM!” He yelled back. That answer wasn’t enough for her, and she walked down the stairs and saw her son’s friends gathered around the computer.

“James Michael Washington Junior, I did not say finish what you’re doing. When I ask for your attention, I expect to get it, not get told to wait. I’ve been trying to get you to pay attention when I talk for 18 years, now get up, and go wipe up the mud that these baboons dragged in before I do to you what I did to your father.”
Three faces pale from surprise and one red from embarrassment looked back at her from around the computer. None of them spoke for a moment, but she was sure that she’d made her point and turned her back to walk back up the stairs. Then she heard one speak.

“Dude,” one of the young men said, “What’s got into your mom.”

“Itsnothing” her son muttered.

“That’s not nothing, dude,” another one answered.

“Come on, guys,” he started, “at least wait until she’s gone before talking like that.”

“Oh, no, I want to hear,” she turned back, “I want to hear what you’re going to tell them. Come on, James, don’t you want your friends to know what’s ‘gotten into me?’ Don’t you think they deserve an answer about why I’m asking like this?” She asked, and started back down towards the group, “Don’t you want to tell them about what happened last night when you came home late? Or what I heard the night before after you walked in on me and your father?” She got up close to the group, an inch away from him, “Or maybe you want to tell them that the only reason I’m NOT pulling you between my legs and making you cry like a baby is that even I have enough standards to not want you to cum in your pants in front of your best friends, shouldn’t you tell them THAT, James?!” She asked, reaching out and grabbing his bulge at the same time.

He didn’t answer. She was pretty certain he couldn’t, based on the pressure against her palm. She smirked, “That’s what I thought.” She said and looked to the others as she felt him starting to go limp in more ways than one.

“It’s nice to see you, by the way, I’ll leave money for pizza out on the table, just try to remember to take your shoes off in the future, okay?” She asked.

“Y-yes ma’am...” Came the answer as she turned away. As she walked back up the stairs, she heard.

“Holy shit, that was crazy...”

“Dude, did Jay’s mom just make him piss himself?”

“I don’t think that’s piss, dude.”

She looked at the mess on her hand. It wasn’t.

Neither her husband nor her son spoke to her for the next few hours. Her son was, of course, busy with his friends and she was fine with that, at least once he’d cleaned up the mess they’d stomped into the house. As for her husband, well, she put that down to him being too intimidated to talk to her at this point. ‘As he should be,’ she reminded herself. She took a seat on the reclining chair in the living room, (usually his chair, but she figured if he wanted it, he could fight her for it,) and relaxed. She leaned back, pulling on the chair’s lever to pop up the footrest, and smiled to herself, looking down at her thighs and calves, and reached down to slowly rub her index finger over the muscles.

“Betty,” her husband spoke as he walked in, and stopped for a second noticing she was sitting in his favored chair.

“Yes, dear, what is it?” She asked, smiling politely up at him.

“Betty, I heard how you were talking to Jay earlier, and look, I understand you’re on this power kick of yours or whatever it is, and that’s fine and everything, but it’s one thing to get a bit pushy and commanding or whatever, and it’s quite another to outright emasculate him in front of his friends like that.”

“Would you rather I was emasculating you instead?” She asked.

“You know that ain’t what I mean, Betty,” he answered, “What I’m saying is that the way you just treated our son was out of line.”

She shook her head, and pulled the lever to let herself stand back up out of the chair, “Jim, please. I think I’ve already shown that I decide what is and is out of line in this house these days, not you.”

He sighed, “Betty, I’ll admit ya beat me. I didn’t know you knew the first thing about wrestling so I wasn’t ready for any of that, but I’m man enough to admit when I lose, but you gotta stop acting like bein’ able to take me by surprise in a wrestling match means that you’re the boss of me. And my son. Just means you took me by surprise, and I’ll put up with whatever for now, but you need to back off this behavior of yours, it’s just not right.”

“Not right?” She asked, “I decide what’s right and wrong in this house too, now, Jim, I thought I proved the point there yesterday.

“What you PROVED, Betty,” he countered, “Was that you got big legs and you know how to wrestle. You think that when I was in college I went into matches in my underwear or my street clothes? Shit, I woulda got whipped dressed like that back then, too. I didn’t even know I was gonna have a match for the entire day, I wasn’t stretched or prepared or anything, and like I said, I didn’t know you even knew the first thing about grappling. Good on you for managing to put up a good showing on short notice and all, but those weren’t fair proper fights.”

“So what are you saying, Jim?” She asked, “That if you had time to get ready for the match, I couldn’t have done that to you?”

“Well,” he started, trailed off, then looked up to meet her stare, “Well, as a matter of fact, Betty, I think I am sayin’ that.”

“Alright then, Jim,” She answered, “That’s fine. I’ll give you time to prepare. Do whatever ritual it is you wrestlers do to get ready for a match, and then tomorrow, I’ll put you in your place again. But I don’t want any excuses after I win this time, alright?”

“Yeah, no excuses,” he answered, “From you either.”

“I won’t need to make any.” She told him, before heading off to bed.

She didn’t push him or assign chores in the morning. Not because she didn’t think that she should, she just wanted to make sure he got any chance to train he needed. She was tempted to follow him around for the day, try to get in his head, but she held back from that temptation. She wanted to be sure that her husband wouldn’t have any excuses that night. She even laid off on their son, just in case whatever it was he thought he needed to do to get ready for a match included the kid. She wanted to make sure that he had every possible advantage he could ask for when the time came. Twice now she’d destroyed him, and twice he’d acted like it was nothing, so this time, there could be no excuse for his defeat. When she crushed him, it would be because she was better, and she’d do it hard enough that even he couldn’t try to argue otherwise.

She didn’t go out of the way much for her own preparation. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t need to. Maybe if he’d been on her level - Hell, anywhere CLOSE to her level - before she might have done some planning, but the way she saw things, it would be on him to prove he had a chance. Rather than worry about whether or not she could win, she got on her bike and rode the three miles to the mall to pick out some nice lingerie that would show off her powerful thighs. On the way into the house, she stepped over some Amazon package with her husband’s name, and wondered what was in it.

She got her answer that evening, as she waited in the living room for her husband to descend the stairs, and saw that he’d had found himself a new singlet, properly sized since his college one would likely have ripped right now. She was in her new outfit as well and crossed her black silk clad legs when she saw him.

“Hell, Jim,” she said, standing and approaching him, noticing their son standing in the corner when she did, “Are you ready for your defeat?”

“I’m ready to stop your nonsense domination fantasies if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered.

“Alright, then, let’s be-”

But this time she was the one unable to finish a sentence, as she heard someone fiddling with the door. She could hardly go to another room, and both she and her husband froze. After a few more seconds, James’s friends piled in (although, she noticed, they had removed their shoes on the step.

For the first time in a few days, she blushed “JAMES!” She snapped at her son, “You didn’t warn me your friends were coming! Look at how I’m dressed!”

“I didn’t-” He started, but Nate, the apparent leader, cut him off.

“We’re not here for him, Mrs. W, we’re here for you.”

“Yeah,” Jackie, the lone girl of the group continued, “We heard you saying you were gonna wrestle Jay’s dad today and wanted to come cheer you on.”

“You want to WATCH?” She asked.

“You’re on HER side?!” James yelled at the same time.

“Yeah, dude,” Mike answered, “Sorry, man, your mom’s hot.”

“DUDE!” James yelled, “Don’t talk about my mom like that!”

“Then don’t have such a hot mom,” Nate answered, then smiled at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he added.

“Oh, none taken,” she laughed, “By all means, take a seat. You’re welcome to stay.”

“They are?” Her husband asked.

“As far as I’m concerned they are,” she answered, “Why, are you worried they’ll see you lose?”

“No,” he answered, “I just don’t want my kid’s friends staring at my wife dressed like that!”

“Then outwrestle me, cover me, and pull me away from them. I say they can stay, and if you have a problem with it, you change things.”

He practically growled at her for that, but he couldn’t find another answer, so he just shrugged. “Alright, Betty, have it your way, if you want them to see your husband kick your ass, that’s fine by me.”

“I don’t,” she answered, “But I’m not worried. They won’t.”

They carefully locked up with each other, not suddenly like the first time or with her reaching out to grasp him like in their rematch, this was to be a proper battle, and it required a proper lead-in. There was an audience here this time, and not just the unintended one of the first night, so she wanted to have a little bit of showmanship and let everyone see her power before she destroyed the man with her legs. She felt the muscles of his arms and shoulders tighten, his whole body did in fact, and he stepped forward to start to push her back. She would admit, he was stronger than he had been the first time, his point about needing preparation and to limber up wasn’t entirely nonsense defensiveness and excuses, but it still wouldn’t be a match for her power. Just like him, she had been getting ready, if only mentally, and thinking about what she would need to do to make sure he didn’t have a chance. Of course, it was hardly the most deep and complex of strategies, just ‘Use her legs,’ but she still took a bit of time to think about how to use them, and unlike their first match, she knew to tense them to stand still from the very first. She could see a look of surprise on his face at his inability to even make her budge, and a small part of her felt a little bit insulted (Seriously? How did he not expect this after TWO beatings) but a much larger part was glad he was still shocked, because it meant that she could have so much more fun dominating him and showing him just how useless his body was next to hers. She felt him try to push harder, the same ramping up of intensity he’d used on the first night, but once again, it was useless in comparison to her.

“Really, Jim?” She asked, “You still think that you can overpower me? I always heard wrestlers needed technique, I never realized the technique was ‘Same but harder.’”

And with that comment made, she began to push back against him, her thigh muscles bulging as she started to force him backward and away from her body. A small cheer went up from her son’s friends as they saw her start to overpower the much larger man, and that fact just inspired her to push harder, pressing her bare feet against the wood floor, and bunching up all the muscles, whether in her thighs or upper body, to assist her in overpowering him.

“Yeah!” One of them called out, “You go, Mrs. W!”

“You hear that?” She asked her husband, as she forced him to backpedal with her pure might, “They like what they see. Your son’s friends are watching his dad get whipped by his wife. You going to put up with that?” She felt his muscles tense up against her, pushing harder again, and she easily stopped his attack with just a single step off her back foot, the might of her legs so great that she didn’t even need to increase her effort to overpower the most forceful shove her husband could muster.

“Oh yeah,” she answered her own question, “You don’t have a choice.” And gave another shove.

Her pushing against him hadn’t just been random thrusts to show off her power, there had been a purpose behind it, a place she was directing the overpowered man, and she had his back to a chair now. Her chair, in fact, or what used to be hers, the stiff-backed blue wool antique that his mother in law had insisted on offloading as a ‘housewarming gift.’

“GAH!” He cried out as he fell right into it, his whole body weight crashing down on the chair, and she stepped forward.

“What’s wrong, not comfortable?” She asked, “Try sitting in that for fourteen years and then complain. Actually,” She laughed, and stepped forward, kneeling - In fact practically standing - On his lap, “How about you just try to complain right now!” She declared, and leaned forward, pressing her entire body weight against her husband, and burying his face against her thigh.

His nose and mouth were completely covered in the press, and she felt him trying to push her off, escape the thigh-based smother. She wouldn’t allow it. In fact, not only was she not allowing the escape, she pressed harder, feeling his struggles get wilder until they took on the familiar desperation of a man whose body is entering a panic mode as it realizes it can’t breathe and he might soon pass out.

She released him then, but only because she had more in store for the helpless man, as she leaned over the back of the chair, tipping her whole body over, and carefully balancing herself on her hands, making sure not to tip the thing over, while still using it and its weight (and his weight keeping the chair sitting down) to balance herself and avoid falling on her own.

She was in an almost wheelbarrow position (coincidentally one of the more athletic sex moves they had used when trying to conceive James Junior) when she was sure she was steady enough to make the next move. Fortunately, her husband had been too shocked and helpless from the lack of oxygen during her assault to make any sort of attempt to escape the seat or stop her from doing what she liked, so with her thighs pressing in on the side of the solid wood, she quickly cinched her calves in under his chin, pulling him into an assisted, crushing headscissor hold that cut off his oxygen as soon as he had the slightest bit back in his lungs.

“HOLY SHIT DUDE!” One of the friends exclaimed, “YOUR MOM IS AWESOME!”

She didn’t hear her son’s response, but she saw it out of the corner of his eye, as he blushed beat-red and buried his head in his hands. She smiled wickedly at it and decided to take the opportunity to torture both of them at the same time.

“They’re right, you know,” she said, “I AM awesome. My legs are awesome. And you AND your father are just cowardly little BITCHES who used to insult them because you were SCARED!” She declared and punctuated her comment by crushing her husband’s throat with her powerful legs once more.

“GGGLLKKK!” Her husband began to choke as she compressed his airway with her calves, and she felt him pulling helplessly on her legs, though his attempts amounted to nothing in the face of her pure muscular might. She licked her lips and tensed her arms for a little more balance.

“You know, Jim,” she said, “I never really LIKED this chair. I think it’s time we got rid of it!” She announced and began to squeeze tighter around both chair and throat. For a moment, all she got out of it was more desperate clawing at her might calves, but soon, she felt movement from her thighs and heard the distinct sound of wood splintering. She smiled at that, and poured on the pressure even harder, feeling the wood back of the chair bend against her legs, crack, and soon, splinter entirely. It wasn’t a solid wood backing, just a few simple supports with stuffing in the middle, which meant that as soon as the outside supports were gone, nothing stood between her thighs and her husband’s head except old balled up cotton, and that was gone in an instant. Now, the only thing that stood between her thighs was her husband’s neck and skull, and she gave him a hard pulse to make sure he knew that before releasing him, rolling forward away from the ruined chair, and taking in the full scope of what her legs had accomplished. Her husband sat limp and helpless in the splintered wood of the unwanted antique, clutching at his throat in a desperate effort to recover air.

She could have pushed forward and crushed him then and there, but the point of this was no longer to win, but to humiliate. His obstinance in the face of her repeated victories had proven to her that nothing short of complete physical and psychological destruction would be enough to get him to accept her superiority. She had to show him that she was in charge, so she let him rise to his feet.

But nothing else. Like a wild beast, she leaped over the ruined back of the chair and pounced her hapless prey to the ground. She drove the man down, flat and helpless beneath her, the increase in the force of impact from her momentum, the force behind her leap that came from her mighty thighs was enough to render useless any resistance he might have hoped to put up against her power. He was hers, entirely, and her weight on his back proved it, as she snaked her mighty legs around his midsection and pulled him against her body, forcing him into a powerful, crushing bodyscissors.

She reached out and struck the back of his head, smacking him hard and dazing him with her force, ensuring that there would be no fighting back against what she had planned. Then, she reached for the straps of his singlet and tugged. The fabric, already straining thanks to his generous estimates about sizing, snapped completely and left her with two thin, limp sections of stretchy spandex while his singlet slipped to reveal his chest, still bruised from their first battle.

“UP!” She commanded and enforced her order with pulverizing squeeze of her thighs to his midsection. Unlike that first night, he didn’t need to be told twice to understand that orders from his wife were to be obeyed, and he quickly forced himself up to his hands and knees, with her still astride him and clutching her thighs around his body.

“You like this?” She demanded, “You like my legs now? You’re the one drooling on all fours, it looks like you’re the beast this time. Bark, beast!” she laughed, emphasizing her command with a squeeze of her thighs

Indeed, a beast he was, a beast of burden specifically, and her mighty legs proved it. While he didn’t exactly bark, he couldn’t resist crying out in pain from her crush, and she decided then to drive her point home. With his mouth open in agony, she stretched out one of the snapped straps of the singlet, and brought it in, locking it into his mouth like a horse’s bit.

“Ride, pony, ride!” She commanded and reached back to spank his ass. The added incentive of her thighs was unnecessary this time, as he began to crawl around the room, helpless and grunting against the strap in his mouth. While he walked, she reached back to slap more, time and again striking his ass to encourage him to continue submitting, pulsing her legs to remind him why he must obey, and displaying his humiliation for the even larger than anticipated audience.

She guided him around the room using his ruined singlet like a bit in his mouth. If he had any objections, she didn’t allow them to be voiced, silencing them with a tug on his bit, and keeping him too breathless to do too much else with the force of her legs squeezing in on his sides. As she did, she held her head high like a prized rider and watched the faces of the assembled masses, only four present but to her (and she suspected him as well) it felt like the whole world. Her sons friends were smiling with a look of joy and disbelief (and though it was displayed in their parents rather than their face, no small amount of arousal as well,) as she treated her husband like a dumb animal (though of course, he was, he’d insisted he could handle her despite two humiliations, there was nothing wrong with treating a spade as a spade.) Of course, not everyone watching was as thrilled as those three, as she saw her son with his head buried in his hands, trying to avoid the site and yet peaking through his fingers like a kid watching late-night horror to see. Of course, while his face and attitude showed far less excitement, his pants showed more, already growing damp at the tip as the fabric strained to contain his arousal the way the spandex had her husband’s weight.

“I know you’re loving this,” she told him, “I know you always wanted to see my power, and now you get to. And I think I know something else you always wanted to see,” she continued, “Something your father’s about to get an up-close view of!” She added, and then released, shoving the man to his back before lowering herself over his face.

She pressed her pussy, clad in her pantyhose, down over her husband’s face and let him taste the juices that showed she was enjoying this just as much as he refused to acknowledge he was. Whether it was the necessary part of grasping for air or some sort of unacknowledged and unwelcome submission, she felt him open his mouth, and her juices passed over his tongue. He blushed so hard she could feel it from the increase in body temperature at his head.

“How’s this, Jim?” She taunted, “Is this what you wanted? Is this enough for you to acknowledge your weakness, or is it still not fair enough for you? Here, how about I make it a little more even?” She asked, and then squeezed her legs again before pitching over to the side, leaving both on their sides, no positional dominance as far as who was on top, but the issue of who was in charge undeniable to even the most casual of observers.

“This should be fair, right?” She asked, and brought her head down until she was only inches from his undeniably stiff cock. “Here you go, Jim, fair position, you can use your weak flabby legs if you want too. Are you ready? One... Two... THREE!” She announced and then started to crush on his head with all the force her mighty legs would allow her, squeezing him so hard that his cries of agony were audible even through her muff, and the expelled soundwaves vibrated to her deepest points. She’d been loving this so far, but that vibration proved more than she had anticipated or was capable of handling, and she arched her back and cried out, the orgasm coming suddenly and powerfully, like a ground-shaking earthquake in a previously peaceful area.

Indeed, an earthquake was an excellent metaphor, as her thighs shook as she came, tensing up to squeeze his head tighter, which naturally made him scream louder, and then, of course, brought her orgasm on harder as well. It continued for nearly a minute before she finally calmed, leaving her out of breath for the first time in any of their fights.

“Oh, wow, Jim,” she said, her voice dripping with poisoned honey, “You have no idea how good that feel. You haven’t made me cum like that since 1999.” She chuckled, “Really, baby, that was great. Please...” Her smile grew, “Let me return the favor!”

And with that she reached down, and grasped the bulge in his singlet, beginning to squeeze and pulse along it with her hand, but no such warm-up was necessary. Her husband was more than ready, and she quickly dropped the foreplay to move on to the main event, grasping his shaft and letting the singlet act as a lubricator as she quickly jerked over his shaft, squeezing her thighs around his head to silence any objections. He began to squirm like he was trying to alleviate the pressure, but twenty-three years of marriage to the arrogant horny prick had taught her all she needed to know about how to make his body dance for her. Soon, she had him leaking like a faucet in her hand, helpless against the combined assault of her well-practiced hand, his silky singlet, and of course the mighty thighs he had secretly dreamed about for decades. She could have made him blast now, if she wanted, turned her husband into a minute man in front of her son and his friends, but that would have been far too pleasant. Men barely lasted with her, studs or not, thanks to her mighty core and legs, so she didn’t see much humiliating about making him blast. She would rather make him scream.

Of course, she had already, but it had been muffled by her might, and who wouldn’t have screamed in the face of what she was doing? Arrogant pricks like her husband prided themselves not just on stamina, but on their stoicism, on always ‘being strong’ and ‘being a man’ no matter what happened. She couldn’t even remember how many times she’d heard the foolish phrase “men don’t cry,” for him, so what better way to destroy his ego than by bringing him to public tears from agony and ecstasy at once?

As she sped up her attack, her son stepped in to try to save his father’s pride, “Okay, uh, guys, I think you should probably go now,” he said, and she looked up at him, not slowing down for an instant from her attack.

“Oh, please, Jay-Jay, like they managed to reach 18 without seeing something like this. Seeing a man get a handjob won’t hurt them. Honestly, considering that your father’s stupid masculine arrogance got him INTO this mess, I’d go as far as to call this educational, what do you think honey?”

“GAHHHHHHHH!” He answered as she released the clutch on his head just enough for him to speak, but found the attentions too overwhelming to form any sort of coherent statement. She smiled as she clutched her legs tight again, burying him screaming against her ass and smiling.

“Well, I’ll let you know if he has anything else to say, don’t worry. But for now, this is my house - MY HOUSE!” She repeated with swift jerks that made the man beneath her shake and gasp, and she felt tears starting to slick up her pantyhose, “And I say they’re welcome to stay. If they want to go, that’s up to them, not your arrogant weakling of a father OR his premature-ejaculating mama-fetishizing son!” She declared, then smiled up at the group, “So, do you want to stay, or are you going home? I can give you a ride as soon as I’m done with this project.” She smiled and flicked her thumb over his pre-leaking tip to make him cry out.

“Uh, i-if it’s all the same to you, Mrs. W” Nate answered, “We’re enjoying the show.”

There were some hushed murmurs of agreement. The show. She hadn’t entirely thought of it like that, she’d just thought of what it would do to her husband’s ego to be on display, but a show was what it was, and not just a show of her husband’s foolishness and powerlessness, but her own beauty, glory, and sexual skill.

‘Mmm, show, is it?” She asked, laughing, “I like the sound of that. But I’ve never felt like a solo act, so if you don’t mind,” She licked her lips, taking in the moment of admiration, “Alright, baby,” she smiled, “give these boys a show!” She declared and speeded up her pumping until she was practically punching him in the gut with every downward thrust and spraying his pre into the air with every pull upwards. In the face of such an attack, her husband didn’t have a prayer, his cock throbbed, leaked, and then began to blast cum into the air, creating a milky fountain of seed that fired in an unending display, spurting up in a wild mess and staining her hand and his new, already ruined singlet.

“Did you know if you really push a man, he can cum a lot longer than normal?” She asked, “Guys usually just like to settle and pull out, but you can actually get a few more spurts if you force it. Here, let me SHOW YOU!” She announced and began to jerk harder still, refusing to let his cock slow down or his body rest from her crushing assault on his manhood. His screams into her pussy were so loud that it sounded like a normal helpless cry despite the muffling, and his orgasm built once again, before dying down after a few more pulses.

“Aww, Jim,” she sighed, as she looked down at her cream-covered hand, finally releasing his face so all could see the tears flowing down his cheeks, “Look at this, you just got this outfit, and it’s already ruined. And you got your cum all over my hand!” She laughed, “I’m sorry about the mess, boys,” she told her audience, “Don’t worry, he’ll clean it up,” She told them, and leaned down, wiping her completely cum-sopping hand off on her husband’s tear-soaked face.

“Always clean up your messes,” she told them, and looked down at her husband, “And as for you,” she said, “You need to stop making them... This is completely soaked!” She laughed, and quickly stripped off the singlet, before balling it up the way he did her clothes whenever he tried to ‘help’ with laundry, and stuffing it into his mouth, pushing it into his throat and rendering her husband completely nude in front of their audience. Whimpering, weeping, broken, coated in cum and being forced to suck his own seed from his singlet, just about the only thing about the man that wasn’t a worthy target of mockery was the size of his cock, which even softening post-orgasm was still a reasonable girth, if not quite the monster that her son’s was. Of course, while she had enjoyed the girth, the softening was not in her plans for the night.

“Now sometimes,” she smiled, continuing her ‘education’ of the young man, “A man hasn’t quite had enough... EVEN if he thinks he has...” She added, giving a quick and dismissive kick to her whimpering and weeping husband, “And in times like that, there can be no other option but to let him between your legs. Of course...” She chuckled, “Jim and I have been doing that a bit different from most couples,” she laughed, and slipped down to scissor her legs around his body once again.

She felt her husband’s shaft stiffen against her thigh and pressed in harder. He may have been exhausted from his orgasm (and likely dehydrated when you factored in the tears) but her mighty legs were not to be denied. She began to pulse on his cock, not full-on trying to crush his hips and pelvis with her might, more just trying to get him back to full hardness and use her beautiful legs to get the man between them to blast. She heard him attempting to say something, she couldn’t be sure what it was thanks to the cum-coated singlet stopping his voice, but it hardly mattered anyway. Whether he was trying to plead for more or for her to stop, she had control of him now, and she would dictate the pace.

Soon, despite his weakened and exhausted state, his cock reached its full strength once more, throbbing against her thigh. Not that she had any intention of stopping or even slowing down in her work on his shaft just because he was hard, after all, simply leaving him hard would be embarrassing, but making him blow once more in front of everyone? That was the level of humiliation she was yearning for, and that she would need to put an end to his fantasies of resisting her. Soon, she felt him twitching under her, his cock on the very edge. It was time to crush his manhood - Literally AND figuratively.

She leaned back on her hands, and gave one last, powerful squeeze with her thighs, tensing up and crushing down with bone-breaking power on his pelvis. Whether his bones shattered or not, his stamina certainly did, his cock exploded against her, and she ground it in by continuing to squeeze and roll her hips, pumping up and down on the beaten man to show off to everyone - Including and ESPECIALLY him - Who was in charge of their relationship. Like before, she didn’t let him stop until long after he thought he was ready, continuing the attack on the cock while he whimpered and writhed between her legs.

Eventually, though, not even her powerful thighs were up to the task of prolonging her husband’s orgasm. When he was finished, she stopped, and untangled her mighty legs from his body, rising to her feet and looking down at the helpless and beaten man.

“Now Jim,” she told him, “I’m getting tired of you making these messes. Once was enough, but that’s twice in two minutes now, and I’m starting to think you don’t care about my feelings here. I went out and bought these lovely pantyhose JUST for you tonight, and you went and got your filthy sperm all over them. For heaven’s sake, Jim, even if Jay-Jay DID need a younger sibling, we aren’t playing darts here, there's no points for ALMOST hitting your target. Quite frankly, I’m sick of cleaning up after you boys. This time,” she smiled, “I think it’s your turn to do the cleaning!” She proclaimed, reached down and grasped the back of her husband’s head, and drove his face against her thigh, rubbing his mouth and nose against the silk and flesh.

Of course, ‘cleaning’ was a relative term, she ultimately was just adding more mess by rubbing his tears and saliva on her, but after a few seconds of waiting, the helpless man started to lap at her thigh, tasting the cum he’d left behind. Holding her husband helpless against her, she stared down her son. “Well, Jay-Jay,” she smiled, “That was over quicker than even I expected. Why don’t you step up and take your father’s place?”

He was practically shivering in fear and humiliation already when he met her gaze, having just seen his father completely destroyed in the living room. When she addressed him, it was clearly all too much for the young man. His face flushed a bright red, and he turned away, rushing from the room, unable to find the strength to even turn down the challenge, not when his father had been beaten so badly that he was lapping up his own helplessly spilled cum from his mother’s thighs. A broad smile of pride at the undeniable evidence of her power spread across her face, and she shoved her husband harder against her thigh, smothering him and at the same time flexing the muscle so it felt like grinding his face against solid, silk-covered rock.

“You can run away if you like, Jay-Jay, but we both know you wish this was you!” She yelled out, pumping her husband’s face on her thigh like he was a dish towel used for wiping up the spilled cream. “Little coward,” she spat out when she got no answer, “At least his father was willing to show up for his beating.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. W,” the one named Nate spoke up, “He’s going to make it to your match, I promise.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mike agreed, “‘Cause even if he doesn’t want that to happen...”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Jackie finished.

Betty blushed a little and smiled at the compliment.

“I’ll let you know when we talk him into it, Mrs. W, and thanks for letting us watch.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” she smiled, “But please, you don’t have to call me that,” She shoved her husband’s face closer to her thigh once last time, then tossed him to the ground, “I prefer ‘Beast Legs.’”
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Old 24-Oct-19, 14:27
Rockwave Rockwave is offline
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Default Re: Beast Legs

Awesome story. Your mother stories remind me a lot of my own mother
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Old 24-Oct-19, 17:35
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LeFarr LeFarr is offline
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Awesome story. Your mother stories remind me a lot of my own mother
Not sure if I should be complimented or concerned there...
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Old 24-Oct-19, 19:21
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Default Re: Beast Legs

Great setup and story. I think Jay-Jay should realise the "cool" girl wrestler from his school is the girl for him. And she could show him just how strong her legs are.
Thanks for posting this.
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Old 24-Oct-19, 19:39
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Not sure if I should be complimented or concerned there...
Well I know for sure she is way stronger than me.
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Old 18-Aug-21, 05:54
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Default Re: Beast Legs

Betty vs Jay, wonder how that duel will unfold.

Another great story mate.
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