Beast Legs

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.