In Tennis, Love Means Nothing By Nomdreserv (FG)

[TheoW]

A shorter story with the same themes – right to the good stuff as it were, at least if you enjoy women getting bigger and stronger at men’s expense (FG).

In Tennis, Love Means Nothing

By Nomdreserv

Rick biked easily up the hill to the recreation center, seeing that Debbie was already waiting by the tennis courts. She waved cheerily, then returned to practicing her serves. She was dressed in a short skirt and sleeveless tennis top, and Rick admired her long legs and rounded shoulders as he set his bike down. As one of the best players on their high school team, he had jumped at the opportunity when Debbie had asked if he was interested in playing her in a series of matches to improve her own game. Debbie was a gorgeous, popular cheerleader type, but not particularly athletic, and Rick had assumed it was merely a pretense to get together with him. She had been certainly dropped some hints that she intended just that, but to his surprise, she had been quite serious about their games, playing quite intensely and even competitively.

For a girl.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Debbie was pretty good, and had gotten better, but she was still nowhere near his own level. That was fine with him – it gave him leisure to watch her rather than the ball – but seemed to frustrate her. When she tried to copy his play style, he had to keep reminding her that it wouldn’t work since he was naturally stronger. Just to drive the point home, he’d played full out during their last set the previous week, slamming her 6 – 0. She’d been pretty ticked afterwards, and he’d worried he’d messed up his chances, but she had called just like always this morning to make sure he would meet her, and seemed positively bubbling about it.

He unzipped his racket cover and walked onto the court. When he approached to say hi, she suddenly surprised him by running over and giving him a huge, long kiss, rubbing her bare legs and soft body up against him. Astounded, he lost no chance in trying to match her unexpected warmth, and prolonged the kiss as long as he could. When they finally broke apart, she stepped back and looked at him speculatively.

"Surprised?"

"I…well, yes," he finally admitted, his cheeks flushed. "But that’s cool. Wow."

He felt a surprising, lingering tingle in his lips from the kiss that seemed to spread through his body.

She looked at him with an odd expression, as though trying to gauge something, then turned and walked to the other side of the court, swaying her hips seductively.

"Just a sample, with lots more to come. I thought you deserved a reward after being so great about playing me and all the lessons."

Rick’s heart jumped. It was just what he’d been hoping for. Secretly, he was relieved, since his little sister had been teasing him mercilessly about Debbie’s using him as an unpaid instructor, while everyone knew she was only into Tony, the football quarterback. Not that his sister, Theresa, needed an excuse to tease him. Like all sisters, especially ones near their sibling’s age, she seemed to take a particular delight in trying to torment him. She sometimes tried physical intimidation as well, since she was close to his own size, and just as competitive, but his superior strength gave him an edge that she just couldn’t overcome, so she tried to compensate with verbal teasing. He knew, however, that she just ached to be able to beat him at something.

He smiled at Debbie. "I was afraid you’d be mad after that last game."

She looked serious. "I was. Especially the way you came off so superior about natural male superiority. But then I thought, don’t get mad, get even."

He was puzzled. Her surprise intimacy seemed an odd way to get even. She laughed at his expression.

"I mean on the court, silly. How about a little wager about the game today?"

"Money?"

"If you want. I was thinking about setting our own stakes. Winner gets whatever they want from the loser."

"Anything?" he tried to figure her angle, but found himself imagining those full lips wrapped around his hard cock. His libido seemed to have been supercharged after their previous kiss, and he sported a slight bulge that persisted long after from feeling her body against him.

She smirked. "Anything within reason. I think I KNOW what you want." She put a finger in her mouth suggestively. "And that’s in bounds. Deal?"

Rick could barely contain himself. "Deal." He wondered how many points he’d have to let her win just to make it look like he wasn’t completely taking advantage of her.

"One condition."

His heart sank. He knew it. What kind of points would he have to spot her?

"We change courts after every game."

"Why?" he asked, surprised at the such a strange request.

"Keep you off balance," she smirked. "You talk about male physical superiority. Maybe I can play some mind games to balance things out."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he agreed readily, already trying to decide to ask for a simple blow job or something more. "You can even serve first."

"Way ahead of you."

She tried to catch him by surprise with an immediate, quick serve. It was a decent serve, too, a bit faster than usual for her, but Rick’s reflexes enabled him not only to return it, but since he couldn’t think fast enough to take anything off, immediately put the point away by driving past the charging Debbie. She shook her head, but didn’t seem too upset. Her next serve was a fault, and Rick couldn’t resist smashing the soft second serve down the line for another point. Her third service was average – and promptly put away. And a minute later, they were changing courts.

She surprised him yet again when she abruptly waylaid him as they passed, planting another kiss on his lips and rubbing up against his flushed skin. He felt another pleasurable but unusual tingle move through his body.

"For luck," she explained, then winked. "Mine."

Rick bounced the ball, then tossed it high for his usual serving motion. Something felt wrong in his arm as he swept the racket down, and he was chagrined to find that the ball hit high on the net. He thought it might be just as well, since Debbie didn’t have much of a chance against his first serve anyway, and sent an easy second serve over. She hit it back crisply, and they rallied for several strokes before he put the point away. His next two serves were in, and he was up 45-0 when he deliberately sent a creampuff serve to appease her. She smacked the return even more sharply than he had anticipated.

"Good one," he admitted. "Your overhand smash has really improved."

"And getting better fast," she replied cryptically.

He finished the game with another service winner, though Debbie surprised him by actually getting her racket on this one. As they changed again, he expected the mid-court kiss this time and wasn’t disappointed.

"Mmm," he said, prolonging it as long as he could. "You sure you don’t want to just call it a match now and get on to the good stuff?"

"Oh, but this is the good stuff," she replied eagerly, looking at him carefully. "And I'm not nearly done yet.

He shrugged and took his position. Debbie’s serve this time was long, as though she’d misjudged her strength, but after he won the point on her second serve, her next two were in and hard – her serve seemed to have really picked up since they last played – maybe even from the first game. Rick actually had to concentrate to hit them back well.

The match proceeded apace, though the games were starting to get much closer than Rick had expected. Debbie’s game seemed to keep improving – her serves and returns were getting stronger as they played, and his own play seemed just a little off. He rubbed his shoulder as he prepared to serve out the set. His arm felt weird – almost tired, and he was having more and more trouble getting any real velocity on his serves, at least if he wanted to keep them in. And he needed to – Debbie had really ripped his last few second serves, the returns so hard and fast that he’d been caught flatfooted. The only reason that he was still winning handily was that she also seemed to be overhitting the ball, sending many returns out. She even seemed aware of this but didn’t care, as though she was just testing something. In fact, she deliberately let his last serve go by her to end the set.

"Good one," she pretended, belying her obvious pass on the return. "But I think I’ve finally found my zone. Change sides and get ready for a real battle."

Rick actually felt a little winded after the set, which astonished him, even more so since Debbie seemed perfectly paced, almost stronger now than when they started. Debbie had never really pushed him in their games before, and he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. As he caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, stopping to take a long drink from his water bottle, he was surprised when she reached into a pocket and pulled out a tube of lip gloss, applying a fresh coat. He could just make out the brand label, "Power."

"So that’s your secret," he joked, trying to hide his being slightly out of breath.

She winked. "You know it." As if to give truth to her words, she immediately moved in to kiss him with the refreshed coating on her lips. Once more he felt that warming tingle move through his body, and his cock jumped embarrassingly. He enjoyed the kiss so much, that he didn’t notice that Debbie didn’t need to tilt her head up to kiss him anymore. Before she broke away, she reached out to massage his arm, lingering on his biceps. To his surprise, she unexpectedly squeezed her fingers in a pinch.

He pulled back with a grunt. He wasn’t sure what had surprised him more – the act itself, or perhaps more worrisome, how much it had hurt. It seemed her fingers were able to push in much too easily into what should have been his well-developed, firm muscle.

She smiled as he rubbed his arm. "Aw, I’m sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?"

"No, no way," he lied, flexing the arm, and trying to pretend it was a joke.

Debbie walked away, swinging her ass provocatively and taking his mind off his arm. "Good, because sometimes I like to play a little rough. I wanna make sure you’ll make it through our game."

He stared openly at her gorgeous body. Her legs were really toned, something he hadn’t really noticed until now. Maybe it was because her skirt was shorter and tighter than usual – it actually rode up and exposed her taut panties beneath. He frowned. Had it been that short before? He shook his head. Of course, it must have been. Still, her top seemed awfully tight too, making her breasts look bigger, yet somehow also higher on her chest, as though her whole upper body was bigger and stronger. And the sleeveless style really showed off her strong upper arms.

Rick did a double take. When did her arms get so toned? She had the upper body of a real athlete, with defined biceps and shoulders like those he’d only seen on women who did regular weight training. No wonder her game had picked up so much! She must have been working out in secret for weeks now, just to ambush him like this. The realization made him angry, and he decided to forget about any ideas of taking it easy on her.

And then, her first serve of the new set rocketed by him, a clear ace.

He turned and watched the ball ricochet off the fence with a ping. He’d never seen another high school girl serve that fast, let alone Debbie. It was almost as good as his own.

Or - though his mind refused to consider this for long - given how weird his arm felt today, maybe even better than his. He rubbed at the sore spot where she’d grabbed him. The pain was subsiding, but did he actually see a bruise forming where she’d pinched him? He pretended that her ace had been because he was distracted by that.

Debbie was smiling at his obvious discomposure. "Surprised?" she called happily.

"Yeah," he agreed grimly, getting into his ready position for the next, and gearing his mind and body as intensely as he did for any of his real matches. That was the problem – she’d caught him by surprise. Now that he knew what to expect, he’d show her how he handled hotshot serves. Her next shot came zooming across the net, he brought his arm back and swung.

And hit the ball right into the net.

He didn’t know what had happened. His return of serve was one of his stronger assets, and yet he’d misjudged the way he’d caught the ball, and how fast the serve had been. It was as though his arm was just a little slower and weaker than his brain remembered. He adjusted his racket for a shorter grip and decided to just volley the next serve back until he got the timing of her new serve down better.

That worked better, especially since Debbie still didn’t seem to quite have control of her own returns. Twice she over-hit his volleys, tying the game. Frustrated, she double faulted twice to give him the game.

"Surprise yourself," he grinned as they passed each other switching sides. "A little power doesn’t always make the difference."

She grabbed him by both arms and kissed him hard, almost hungrily. He was surprised at how strong her grip was, and even more by the passion of the kiss. He again noticed her hands moving over his biceps, almost as though checking something.

"Pretty soon," she replied mysteriously, flexing her own arm in experimentation. Now that he thought of it, her shoulders really weren’t all that rounded. They were pretty broad for a girl – hell, they were broad for anyone! He was amazed at the size of her biceps, and unconsciously flexed his own arm, feeling the disturbingly small swelling that resulted. It seemed barely larger than hers, and softer than normal too, and he resolved to hit the weights again regularly starting that evening.

His problems with serve continued, and seemed to get worse with every game. Soon, he felt like he was lobbing the ball in a practice session with his sister. Unfortunately, Debbie wasn’t his sister, as she proved time and again by rocketing the ball back with more and more power. Rick hated to admit it, and was sure that it was because he must have come down with a virus or something, but she was definitely playing better than him today.

And looking great too. Geez, her legs seemed to swell with each game, making the tennis skirt look like a decorative sweat band adorning the sculpted columns of her legs. Her calves were defined diamonds, and the muscles of her thighs bulged whenever she reached or stretched, showing taut bands and thick cords. He felt increasingly uncomfortable by the way his own shorts seemed to flap around his legs – making them look much thinner than normal. Even lower, since they reached almost knee level now. He tried to pull them up, but they didn’t want to stay, almost as though the waist was too big. Maybe he’d overstretched them.

Her tennis top seemed ready to split from the strain of her upper body. Her breasts squeezed out the top, enhancing her cleavage, but even the shoulder straps looked too tight, and her back seemed too broad to be readily contained by the stretching fabric. Rick decided she must have deliberately chosen a too small and tight outfit to distract him.

And it was working. Even now, when she leaned back to serve, he began to see glimpses of bare midriff where the too tight shirt lifted up, catching his eye irresistibly, especially when he noticed the beginnings of a six-pack abdomen. How far was she carrying this secret weight training? His own shirt seemed to hang ever more loosely and lowly on his body. Somehow, even the sleeves hung lower.

He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with the whole setup, especially as Debbie’s accuracy slowly began to catch up with her increasing power. By the middle of the set, she broke his serve.

"Yes!" she called triumphantly, shaking her racket in the air. He changed sides in shock, beginning to wonder if this was some kind of nightmare. His game was deserting him bit by bit. Worse, it seemed that her own was picking up to balance out the losses. She all but ran in her eagerness to switch sides and try her own serve again. And he was so confused that he didn’t even notice that their lips and eyes were even as she extracted her now customary kiss.

Things went from bad to worse. Even using all his skill and strategy, Rick could barely challenge her new and improving serve, and his returns got more and more pathetic. Debbie was striding around the court like she owned it, catching up to everything and hitting with increasing power. And she kept looking more and more intimidating physically, no doubt because of her increased confidence. Now her shirt left her tummy uncovered even when she stood straight, and her arms and shoulder muscles bulged noticeably when she swung her racket.

Rick, meanwhile, was left more and more frustrated. He was increasingly breathless, and his arms felt like rubber. At last, he decided he must be sick. It was the only thing that made sense – sudden weakness and exhaustion. He knew people could actually lose weight when they got sick, and that would explain his loose clothes. He paused to finish off his water bottle, hoping to fight what must be an early dehydration, and deliberately took his time to catch his breath. He thought about telling Debbie and calling the match, but was afraid that she would think it cowardice on his part because of her improved game, especially since his broken serve had left her in a position to close out the set.

He limped a bit from a sudden muscle cramp as they changed sides. He stopped to rub his leg, surprised at how soft the cramped muscle felt. When Debbie came close, he sighed. "Look, how about…"

Before he could finish, she’d grabbed him for yet another passionate kiss. His body responded immediately, making him forget the muscle cramp, and Debbie seemed just as turned on as he did, and again rubbed her surprisingly hard body up against his own sweating one. He reveled in feeling her pillow-like lips against his, even while they sent tingles coursing through his body.

Debbie gave his behind a playful swat as they parted, and he yelped at the unexpected sting. She had also seemed to smile at the soft feeling of his ass under her hand. The tingles from their interlude continued to make him shiver, but he smiled and relaxed, as though in a drug-induced fog, slipping back into happy thoughts. Even if he did lose the set, he could take it back in the last one, and there was lots to enjoy in the meantime, he decided while watching her round, firm ass sway underneath her micro skirt. Besides, he was sure that his skill could still overmatch her, even if his flu-weakened body couldn’t.

He was wrong. Embarrassingly so. It was a rout now, and the match ended decisively on her next serve. He barely managed a weak volley around two aces, then crouched, sweating and panting while she wound up for the possible set point. He moved his hands back on the handle, determined to hit it back hard and catch her by surprise, then he could rally by changing games and keeping her off balance. He gripped the racket hard and swung as the ball screamed over.

And cried out as the ball actually knocked the racket out of his hands.

Debbie cried out again and enthusiastically jumped at her first ever set victory. Rick rubbed his stinging hand in amazement. He had never lost the racket like that. It was almost as if he was being completely overpowered.

Debbie actually jumped the net to come over, clearing it by more than a foot thanks to her powerful legs. Rick noticed that her skirt now sat above her waist, and her panties had become a near thong since they seemed to be swallowed by her thick legs and hard buns. What he didn’t notice as she came over to place a strong arm around his shoulder – being too distracted by her breasts, which now seemed bigger than D cups as they were squeezed and half exposed by her too small top – was that Debbie was now slightly taller.

"You wanna quit?" she asked. "You don’t look like you’re feeling too good over there."

Rick tried to catch his breath so she wouldn’t hear him panting, but was desperately relieved at the prospect of halting the match.

"Um, maybe a virus or something," he puffed. "I am feeling pretty weird." Why did her ballooning breasts look so close to his eyes? And where the hell did she get the bulging biceps that now held him? Could her muscles really respond that much to exercise? Her legs looked as thick and strong as carved ivory columns. Normally, he liked to show off his own muscular thighs, but given how he was feeling, his drooping shorts might be for the best. His legs felt small and weak – the muscles almost quivering from the strain. Could you really lose that much muscle mass just from dehydration?

"No problem," she smiled. "Now, since I’ve won my first match ever, I think I’ll celebrate by choosing…"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he wheezed angrily, ashamed to admit the obvious. "What do you mean you win?"

"Well, come on, Rick. I mean, I think we both realize that the way you’re playing…"

"Uh uh." He shook his head in defiance. "We keep playing. Just because you’ve gotten a little stronger from all this secret training you’ve been doing doesn’t mean you can beat me. Even sick, a guy can beat a girl."

Her eyes flared angrily. "What did you say?"

"Let me just catch my breath," he insisted. "Then, I’ll serve and show you." He thought he could actually feel a little strength returning as they rested. All he needed was a break and a new game plan. After all, he’d beaten plenty of guys with bigger serves and stronger returns.

"Ooh, such a brave trooper," she said in a surprisingly icy tone. Suddenly, she was all over him, kissing him hungrily and rubbing her hard body against him. He was amazed at how big and firm her breasts felt as they mashed against him, seeming even wider than his whole chest. Her leg forced its way between his knees and her felt the bare, smooth skin of her firm thighs move against him, making his cock instantly take notice and jump to full hardness. She noticed and massaged it with her hand while she smothered him with wet kisses and licked his face, nearly making him cream in his shorts. Her other hand roamed wildly over his back and upper body, as though testing or seeking something. Apparently satisfied, she brought both hands up to work together, squeezing his upper arms.

She was all over him – passionately and almost literally. It actually seemed as though her body was physically overwhelming his, but the sexual heat that flared as her pelvis ground against his hard cock made him ignore the feeling. His senses whirled and he nearly came again – he’d never felt so excited, almost desperate to cum. His head began to tilt back to meet her kisses, and he let himself be supported in her iron grip as a wave of weakness overwhelmed him. She licked his ear while rubbing her body against his rigid penis. He felt it slide along her muscular thigh towards her hot cleft.

It was too much for him. With a cry of released ecstasy mixed with some embarrassment, he came, gushing a huge load of cum into his shorts. His cock jerked spasmodically for what seemed like minutes, while she continued to rub against him. Her breasts, arms and legs seemed to swell as they moved over him.

Suddenly, he winced. Her hands had unexpectedly compressed his biceps hard, her fingers sinking in as easily as though into butter. With a cry of pain, he stumbled back, slowly becoming aware of the situation.

"What the hell?" he asked, then paused. His voice sounded weird – higher and thinner. He cleared his throat. "Why’d you do that?" he whined, rubbing his arms. He was too confused and disoriented by his recent climax to notice that his arms were soft and thin, completely straight and almost girlish, with no hint of the firm muscles that he had started the day with.

Debbie was already walking away. "You had your fun. Now it’s my turn. Rather than prolong this, let’s do a tiebreaker. First one to 10 points by 2."

Rick was thoroughly dazed. How could she still be interested in the game? All he wanted to do was go home and take a nap. He’d never felt so exhausted and weak after am orgasm. Strangely enough, neither of their clothes looked especially wet after rubbing together with what had been a huge load of cum. Even more bizarrely, he didn’t feel wet in his underwear at all.

"Ready?" she called impatiently, bouncing the ball.

Rick took up his place, his racket feeling very strange in his hands. It was an extremely expensive model that his parents had given him for his birthday, and normally felt like an extension of his own hands. But now, it felt heavy and clumsy. Almost like the handle was too big and the frame had been weighted down. He pulled at his loose shorts, not noting how his shirt now reached his lower thighs.

But he sure noticed Debbie. She looked like something out of a supermodel body fitness magazine now, with bulging arms and shoulders and corded, muscled legs that threatened to rip the tiny skirt that no longer could contain them. Her chiseled body was set off by her ridiculously tight clothes, which must have shrunk somehow from her sweat, since her rock-hard abs were now fully exposed by what had become a halter instead of a shirt. She looked almost superhumanly strong.

And so did her shots. Her serves zipped by in a blur, and he waved feebly as though in slow motion with his too heavy racket. Her returns literally blew him away, again tearing the racket from his enfeebled hands. When she went to put the tiebreaker away without losing a single point, she actually smashed the ball straight at him, hitting him square in the chest and driving the breath from his body. The ball ricocheted a full two courts away, while a bruise immediately began to form where the rocket-powered shot had struck his chest.

Rick actually collapsed on the court from the pain and exhaustion, but this time Debbie showed no signs of interest or sympathy. The now amazonian woman calmly collected her things, including a sweatshirt. Rick idly wondered, when she put it on, why she had picked such a small size. The sleeves didn’t reach her wrists, and the bottom rode above her waist. She shrugged, and he could swear he heard the snap of her overstressed sports bra give way underneath.

"That’s better," she sighed. Without turning, she continued, "You know, Rick, I’ve been thinking. Since I don’t really see you giving me much of a challenge anymore, I think it might be better if we forgot about these little games."

"What?" he gasped in shock. His shirt felt like a sack and barely stayed on his shoulders when he stood up. Something about his fall even made his shoes feel loose.

She turned coldly. "Sorry about that, but I think you’ve given me about as much as you can." A mysterious smile. "Not that I’m not grateful. I bet I could even beat Tony now." She flexed a softball-sized biceps. "Maybe we’ll see what else I can beat him at now."

"But…but…" he protested, his voice still sounding weak and high like a kid’s.

She actually patted his head, though his confused brain still didn’t notice that she was tall enough to do it.

"Now, now. No regrets. You were a great…inspiration to me." Unexpectedly, she reached out and grabbed his racket. He tried to hang on, but she easily overpowered him and pulled it away, hoisting it experimentally. "No wonder you used to be so good. This is so incredibly light – like it’s made of air. I think I’ll take it as my victory prize."

"No!" he cried, inexplicably near tears and still in shock, as though his whole body was in upheaval. "That’s not fair!"

"Oh, and a blowjob or fuck for you would have been?" she sneered. She calmly put the racket in her bag, leaving her own girl’s model for him. "Hey, if you want, go tell everyone what happened. How I whipped your sorry butt." She was already walking away. "But don’t make me do it again in front of everyone."

He watched her go, completely overwhelmed. What the hell had happened? She seemed so huge and strong now, with a confidence to match, while he seemed to be shrinking into his clothes, weak and frightened. Somehow, she must have drugged him or something. Set the whole thing up. He tried to shout an angry defiance.

"Yeah, well fuck you!" he called, hearing his voice move into an embarrassing alto with the increased force. Humiliated, he picked up her discarded racket (strangely enough, even her junior miss model seemed heavy at the moment) and gathered his own things, wincing at the aches of his overtaxed muscles. He had to adjust the seat on his bike, and found it incredibly hard to ride, as though his muscles had just turned to jello over the stress, and wobbled a bit in the street as a result.

He hoped his sister would give him a break when he got home, especially if she heard that Debbie had dumped him – or even worse, guessed that he’d lost the match. Though then again, the idea of physically abusing another member of the female sex in revenge had its attractions at the moment. After all, what else were little sisters good for? Maybe he’d be the one to pick a fight.

Though the familiar tingle that seemed to move through his body in response really should have told him better.

He also tried to console himself by remembering what a powerful orgasm Debbie had given him during the match just by rubbing against him. His cock seemed unusually sensitive even now, and started to firm up all on its own. He decided he’d take a shower and jerk off when he got home, already mentally recalling the image of Debbie bursting out of her too small tennis clothes. At least he could still masturbate to that image, even if the real life version had brushed him off.

That thought cheered him as he strained with all his strength up a small hill. After all, sex was what he had been hoping for from the beginning. He’d gotten what he wanted from their match after all.

As had Debbie.

End

Copyright 2001 by Nomdreserv