Smug bitch Rex
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Rex's massive chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths as consciousness fully returned, the gym's fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on her transformed body. Her eyes fluttered open, warm brown orbs widening in shock as she took in the sight of herself. What the hell...? She sat up slowly, her new height making the bench press seat feel comically small beneath her. Towering over six feet now—easily 6'4" or more—her muscles had ballooned to superhuman proportions, veins like thick cables snaking across her bronze skin, which had shifted from fake tan to a natural, radiant golden hue that screamed perfection. Her arms were tree trunks, her shoulders broader than a linebacker's, her back flaring out in a dramatic V-taper that made her look like a living statue of power.
She looked down, her gaze locking on the enormous swells pushing forward from her chest. "Holy shit... boobs? Finally?" A grin tugged at her lips, but as she prodded them with her now-longer, elegant manicured nails—fingers that had stretched into feminine claws, polished black and razor-sharp—she realized the truth. These weren't breasts; they were pecs, pillow-sized slabs of muscle, dense and unyielding, pumped to the extreme. Beneath them, her actual chest remained flat, her small breasts still invisible bulges, unchanged by the surge. "Ha! Still flat as a board up top, but who needs tits when you've got these bad boys?" she muttered, her voice deeper, more resonant, laced with that aggressive masculine edge she loved.
Raising one thick arm experimentally, Rex watched in awe as the muscles shifted like tectonic plates under her taut, bronze skin. The friction sent an electric thrill through her—a wave of orgasmic sensation that made her shiver. Thick, sticky sweat coated her body, making every inch shimmer under the lights, like she'd been oiled for a bodybuilding stage. Droplets slid between the deep crevices of her abs, now a ten-pack of armored ridges, and down her obliques. She flexed her huge bicep—easily the size of a football, peaking like a mountain—and a jet of thick, sticky cum shot out between her legs, soaking the remnants of her ripped jeans. The orgasmic rush intoxicated her, her head tilting back with a moan, tongue flicking out slightly. "Oh fuck... that's... intense."
This wasn't a dream. The pain from the electrocution lingered faintly, but the power? It was real. Rex's lips curled into a wicked, smug laugh—deep and echoing, like a villainess reveling in her ascension. "Heh... hehehe... HAHAHA!" She licked her lips, eyes gleaming with greed. She'd always dreamed of this—ultimate power, control beyond measure. It was a dream come true, handed to her by some freak accident. Her narcissism surged, feeding on the sensation.
Without shame, she reached back, her long, feminine fingers digging into her buttocks—now massive, rounded glutes of steel, slick with sweat. She moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the gym, unapologetic and raw. "Mmm... god, these cheeks could crush diamonds." Her hands roamed, clinging to the sticky, sweat-covered muscles, squeezing and exploring every curve. Then, up to her pecs again, grabbing the pillow-like swells. "Look at these monsters—better than any fake tits those cheerleader bitches flaunt. Mine are real power, not pillow stuffing!"
Her attention snapped to the full-length mirror on the far wall, the one the Pack used for posing practice. Slowly, sensually, she rose—her ego swelling like a balloon, narcissism overflowing in a tidal wave. Nipples hardened atop her pecs, pert and sensitive, as another trickle of cum flowed down her thick, muscular legs, warm and viscous. She sauntered toward the mirror, hips swaying with a newfound feminine grace that blended seamlessly with her tomboy aggression. The walk was predatory, each step thundering softly, her long eyelashes fluttering as she drank in her reflection.
In the mirror, she was a goddess—a superhuman tomboy, beautiful, sensual, sexy beyond words. Short hair full and glossy, framing a face sharpened to ethereal perfection. She flexed her entire body, muscles exploding in definition: biceps peaking, triceps horseshoeing, lats spreading like wings, quads sweeping out in teardrops. She laughed wickedly again, the sound manic and unhinged, her superiority complex evolving into full-blown megalomania. "Look at me! I'm a fucking masterpiece! Shredded, stacked, and unstoppable!" Without hesitation, she tore off the remnants of her clothes—the cropped hoodie shredding like paper, jeans ripping away in tatters—leaving her naked except for the silver wolf-head navel piercing, which now seemed tiny against her expanded midriff. Cum glistened on her inner thighs, sweat beading everywhere, but she reveled in it.
Posing nude, she struck a double-bicep flex, smirking smugly. "Who needs clothes when your body's this perfect? These arms could bench a truck—hell, I'd make the truck beg for mercy first." She turned side-on, crunching her abs. "Abs like a goddamn washboard? Nah, more like armored plating. Try punching these, losers—you'd break your hand." A crab pose next, pecs bouncing. "And these? Forget boobs; I've got power pillows. Suck on that, flat-chest haters—I'm still 'flat' where it counts, but now I'm a walking wet dream." Her comments were witty, sharp, smug, narcissistic barbs, each one inflating her ego further. "I'm the alpha she-wolf now—for real. Mnehaga? Bitch, I'm the goddess of the pack!"
Adrian stood frozen nearby, his blue eyes bulging in amazement. If he'd admired her before—worshipped her strength, her wit, her hidden femininity—now he straight-up deified her. A huge erection strained against his shorts, throbbing visibly, his slightly androgynous features flushed with arousal. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her naked form, the sweat-slicked muscles, the cum trails. "R-Rex... what... what happened to you?" he stammered, voice husky with awe.
She glanced over her shoulder, smirking smugly, her long lashes batting. "Don't know, Mutt. Don't care. But I fucking love it. This? This is me leveled up." She declared it with absolute confidence, turning back to the mirror.
Then, testing her words, she eyed the weights. "I feel strong... but really strong." Spotting a barbell loaded to her old body weight—around 150 pounds, light for her now—she grabbed it with one hand, hoisting it effortlessly overhead, waving it like a feather. "See? Child's play!"
Adrian gaped, muttering in disbelief. "That's... that's close to a world record for men in one-arm press. Like, Olympic level..."
Rex laughed contemptuously, smugness dripping. "World record? I don't even feel the weight. It's like waving a toothpick." She tossed it aside with a clang, the bar bending slightly on impact. Emboldened, she moved to the equipment, testing her super strength one by one. The leg press? She loaded it max—over 1,000 pounds—and pushed it with one foot, yawning. "Boring." The cable machine? She yanked the stack so hard the pins shattered. "Pathetic." Dumbbells? She curled 200-pounders like they were cans of soda. None challenged her; they crumpled under her might.
Finally, she picked up a thick 45-pound weight plate, gripping it like dough. With a grunt of effort—that was more show than strain—she bent it in half, the metal screeching in protest. "Ha! Easy as pie." Not done, she strode to a bolted-down fitness device—a heavy squat rack anchored with thick screws into the concrete floor. Wrapping her massive hands around the base, she heaved—screws popping like champagne corks, the whole thing uprooting with a groan of twisted metal. She held it aloft triumphantly, laughing maniacally.
Adrian couldn't hold back. The sight of her raw power, naked and dominant, pushed him over the edge. A dark stain spread across his shorts as he reached orgasm, shuddering quietly, his worship complete.
Option 1: She has additional super powers related to electricity.
Option 2: Apart from super strength, she has no other superpowers.
She looked down, her gaze locking on the enormous swells pushing forward from her chest. "Holy shit... boobs? Finally?" A grin tugged at her lips, but as she prodded them with her now-longer, elegant manicured nails—fingers that had stretched into feminine claws, polished black and razor-sharp—she realized the truth. These weren't breasts; they were pecs, pillow-sized slabs of muscle, dense and unyielding, pumped to the extreme. Beneath them, her actual chest remained flat, her small breasts still invisible bulges, unchanged by the surge. "Ha! Still flat as a board up top, but who needs tits when you've got these bad boys?" she muttered, her voice deeper, more resonant, laced with that aggressive masculine edge she loved.
Raising one thick arm experimentally, Rex watched in awe as the muscles shifted like tectonic plates under her taut, bronze skin. The friction sent an electric thrill through her—a wave of orgasmic sensation that made her shiver. Thick, sticky sweat coated her body, making every inch shimmer under the lights, like she'd been oiled for a bodybuilding stage. Droplets slid between the deep crevices of her abs, now a ten-pack of armored ridges, and down her obliques. She flexed her huge bicep—easily the size of a football, peaking like a mountain—and a jet of thick, sticky cum shot out between her legs, soaking the remnants of her ripped jeans. The orgasmic rush intoxicated her, her head tilting back with a moan, tongue flicking out slightly. "Oh fuck... that's... intense."
This wasn't a dream. The pain from the electrocution lingered faintly, but the power? It was real. Rex's lips curled into a wicked, smug laugh—deep and echoing, like a villainess reveling in her ascension. "Heh... hehehe... HAHAHA!" She licked her lips, eyes gleaming with greed. She'd always dreamed of this—ultimate power, control beyond measure. It was a dream come true, handed to her by some freak accident. Her narcissism surged, feeding on the sensation.
Without shame, she reached back, her long, feminine fingers digging into her buttocks—now massive, rounded glutes of steel, slick with sweat. She moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the gym, unapologetic and raw. "Mmm... god, these cheeks could crush diamonds." Her hands roamed, clinging to the sticky, sweat-covered muscles, squeezing and exploring every curve. Then, up to her pecs again, grabbing the pillow-like swells. "Look at these monsters—better than any fake tits those cheerleader bitches flaunt. Mine are real power, not pillow stuffing!"
Her attention snapped to the full-length mirror on the far wall, the one the Pack used for posing practice. Slowly, sensually, she rose—her ego swelling like a balloon, narcissism overflowing in a tidal wave. Nipples hardened atop her pecs, pert and sensitive, as another trickle of cum flowed down her thick, muscular legs, warm and viscous. She sauntered toward the mirror, hips swaying with a newfound feminine grace that blended seamlessly with her tomboy aggression. The walk was predatory, each step thundering softly, her long eyelashes fluttering as she drank in her reflection.
In the mirror, she was a goddess—a superhuman tomboy, beautiful, sensual, sexy beyond words. Short hair full and glossy, framing a face sharpened to ethereal perfection. She flexed her entire body, muscles exploding in definition: biceps peaking, triceps horseshoeing, lats spreading like wings, quads sweeping out in teardrops. She laughed wickedly again, the sound manic and unhinged, her superiority complex evolving into full-blown megalomania. "Look at me! I'm a fucking masterpiece! Shredded, stacked, and unstoppable!" Without hesitation, she tore off the remnants of her clothes—the cropped hoodie shredding like paper, jeans ripping away in tatters—leaving her naked except for the silver wolf-head navel piercing, which now seemed tiny against her expanded midriff. Cum glistened on her inner thighs, sweat beading everywhere, but she reveled in it.
Posing nude, she struck a double-bicep flex, smirking smugly. "Who needs clothes when your body's this perfect? These arms could bench a truck—hell, I'd make the truck beg for mercy first." She turned side-on, crunching her abs. "Abs like a goddamn washboard? Nah, more like armored plating. Try punching these, losers—you'd break your hand." A crab pose next, pecs bouncing. "And these? Forget boobs; I've got power pillows. Suck on that, flat-chest haters—I'm still 'flat' where it counts, but now I'm a walking wet dream." Her comments were witty, sharp, smug, narcissistic barbs, each one inflating her ego further. "I'm the alpha she-wolf now—for real. Mnehaga? Bitch, I'm the goddess of the pack!"
Adrian stood frozen nearby, his blue eyes bulging in amazement. If he'd admired her before—worshipped her strength, her wit, her hidden femininity—now he straight-up deified her. A huge erection strained against his shorts, throbbing visibly, his slightly androgynous features flushed with arousal. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her naked form, the sweat-slicked muscles, the cum trails. "R-Rex... what... what happened to you?" he stammered, voice husky with awe.
She glanced over her shoulder, smirking smugly, her long lashes batting. "Don't know, Mutt. Don't care. But I fucking love it. This? This is me leveled up." She declared it with absolute confidence, turning back to the mirror.
Then, testing her words, she eyed the weights. "I feel strong... but really strong." Spotting a barbell loaded to her old body weight—around 150 pounds, light for her now—she grabbed it with one hand, hoisting it effortlessly overhead, waving it like a feather. "See? Child's play!"
Adrian gaped, muttering in disbelief. "That's... that's close to a world record for men in one-arm press. Like, Olympic level..."
Rex laughed contemptuously, smugness dripping. "World record? I don't even feel the weight. It's like waving a toothpick." She tossed it aside with a clang, the bar bending slightly on impact. Emboldened, she moved to the equipment, testing her super strength one by one. The leg press? She loaded it max—over 1,000 pounds—and pushed it with one foot, yawning. "Boring." The cable machine? She yanked the stack so hard the pins shattered. "Pathetic." Dumbbells? She curled 200-pounders like they were cans of soda. None challenged her; they crumpled under her might.
Finally, she picked up a thick 45-pound weight plate, gripping it like dough. With a grunt of effort—that was more show than strain—she bent it in half, the metal screeching in protest. "Ha! Easy as pie." Not done, she strode to a bolted-down fitness device—a heavy squat rack anchored with thick screws into the concrete floor. Wrapping her massive hands around the base, she heaved—screws popping like champagne corks, the whole thing uprooting with a groan of twisted metal. She held it aloft triumphantly, laughing maniacally.
Adrian couldn't hold back. The sight of her raw power, naked and dominant, pushed him over the edge. A dark stain spread across his shorts as he reached orgasm, shuddering quietly, his worship complete.
Option 1: She has additional super powers related to electricity.
Option 2: Apart from super strength, she has no other superpowers.
15 views
·
June 13
Log in to comment