all for her

all for her by marknew

this story is about james bond and how he and a girl he meet at the casino are being traped by a villainess that drains both him and the girl of their physical attributes from muscles to height and breast size. there is also nice sexual-humiliation scene at the end.

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James and a new friend he picked up at the casino, a gorgeous, tall, voluptuous girl, Paula
Fyre, are tied up together in the villain's lair.  A petite, 5'2", dark haired girl, wearing shorts
and a halter top, is standing over them.

"Who are you?" James asks roughly.

"Why, I am your jailor," she replies evenly.

"Where are we?  What are you going to do with us?" Paula Fyre asks, a bit fearfully.

"You're at the headquarters of F.E.M.M., Females Evidencing Massive Musculature."

James snorts.  "And you are a prime example, I suppose."

Vickie ignores him.  "Look at the pictures on the wall, Miss Fyre."  She motions to a line of
portraits showing women with immense biceps and chests, limp, beaten men lying alongside
them.

"They look like women, I guess, but I've never seen women like them, before," Paula says,
eyeing them closely.

"My name is Vickie, not 'before', but that is an apt name you've used.  And I look forward to
your thoughts when you will see 'after' later," she replies with hidden amusement. She smiles
at Paula Fyre, then turns to Bond.  "And you, Mr. Bond, will pay for your attempted
interference with our plans.  Your life as an aggressive, overbearing male is over.  Your new
assignment will provide you with little scope for your sexist games.  You now work for
F.E.M.M.  You shall serve our cause."

"Not on your life, Missy."  Bond has secretly untied himself and now springs upward and
faces the girl, whose face barely reaches Bond's impressive pecs.  "Excuse my saying this, but
after dealing with 'Jaws' you're hardly impressive as a villain."

Keeping herself otherwise perfectly still, she lashes out at Bond with blinding speed, mashing
his balls with her pretty little foot.  He collapses, groaning.  "Perhaps you are too confident of
yourself," she taunts, her shiny white teeth glistening under her red lips.

Bond glares up at her and swiftly pulls out her leg and pins her.  She struggles, helpless in his
grip.  "I suggest you grow up first and learn better behavior with guests.  But for now, little
girl, before I start losing my own bearings as a gentleman, why don't you tell us how we can
escape from this room."  He gives her a slight squeeze and she moans a little.  "You aren't
very good at this, you know."

"There will be ... no escape for you ... Mr. Bond ... until I am ready to ... let you go," she
grunts, straining as Bond progressively tightens his hold on her.

"Oh dear, but you don't seem to be doing a very good job of capturing me, Vickie."  He
tightens his grip on her further and puts his hands around her neck to choke her.

"James!  You're hurting her."

"I'm sorry, Paula, but this game I play is often not as pretty as you are." 

A low rumble fills the room.  James and Paula look around.  "What was that?" Paula asks.

"I don't know.  It doesn't seem to be coming from any specific place."

"It's the sound ... of your doom ... Mr. Bond," Vickie spits out.  She starts thrashing about
more actively.

"You are a feisty one.  But until my 'doom' is a bit more apparent to me, do tell me some more
about this F.E.M.M. and why it has been seizing our great sport figures.  Kidnaping the
leading striker for Manchester United is hardly the path to world domination, but it is against
her majesty's laws."

"We needed him for ... experiments, which are now complete."  She is moving her hips now 
more insistently, making it harder for Bond to hold her down. He must take his hands off her
throat now and hold her shoulders onto the floor to prevent her from slipping out.  "Now, you
personally will see what we are capable of."   Just then she snaps her legs free and rolls to her
feet, her breaths coming rapidly, her t-shirt tightening with each rise of her breasts.

Bond manages a slight grin.  "Very well.   Do show me.  I'm all yours," he says archly.

"More than you know, Mr. Bond," she retorts, and launches another kick at his groin.  This
time he is prepared and turns to deflect the blow, then wraps his arm around her and pulls her
to the ground.  But she resists and elbows him in the stomach.

"Ooof!"

He takes hold of her wrists and locks her arms in place.  She strains against him, the small
muscles of her arms rising with the force of her effort.  "You will not ... keep me down THIS
time!" she shouts and stomps hard on his foot, breaking free, then aims a blow with the heel
of her palm to his Adam's apple.  He grabs her hand and deflects it against his collarbone,
startled a bit by the impact of the blow.  

"I've had enough of this, young lady!"

"Then fight me like a man.  If you can," she taunts.

Angry now, he aims a hard shot at her head but she gets her arm in the way and his hand
slams against her biceps.  Another blow catches her squarely in the cheek and drives her back
a few feet.

"James!  I can't believe you'd hit her like that!  She's a woman."

Not taking his eye off the girl for a moment, he replies evenly, "If a fly insists on biting,
Paula, one has to swat it."

"A fly, am I?"  Vickie glows with perspiration, her eyes on fire.  She runs straight for him,
ramming her head into Bond's chest, her legs pushing him backward.  He brings his knees up
into her but she fires blow after blow at his kidneys, forcing him to concentrate on blocking
them.  Taken by surprise by the force of her assault, he steps back, looking for an angle.  She
has no wish to let up, however, and her face takes on a more predatory cast.  She licks her
lips.  Bond runs his eyes down her body, pausing at her t-shirt, now molded tightly against her
wet body, her nipples plainly visible through the transparent cloth, the sleeves tight against
lithe, muscled arms.  

A question registers on his brow.  Ever perceptive, she teases, "What is it, Mister Bond?  Is
something the matter?  Maybe I can make it easier for you."

The low rumbling grows louder, and Bond covers his ears with his hands, his expression
pained. 

"What's wrong James?" Paula asks, concerned now for her hero.

Bond shakes his head.  "That noise.  It's ... something's ... making me woozy."

"Poor James!"  Vickie stands before him, set for more battle, and tenses her muscles, the
outlines of tight abdominals showing through her shirt.  She fires another shot at Bond's
abdomen, which he barely deflects, then an uppercut that lands on his cheek, stunning him. 
He rams her with his shoulder, but his shove barely registers on her, moving her only an inch
or two off center, and she pushes him right back, driving him against the wall.  

"I don't think I'm at all 'moved' by you, Mr. Bond.  I think I've been pushed harder by old
ladies at the January sales at Harrods." she taunts.

Enraged, he charges her, but she's braced and ready and plows her shoulder into his chest,
stopping him cold and driving the breath out of his body.  He collapses onto the floor,
panting, while she stands over him, triumphant.  He grabs her legs to topple her onto the
floor, but her muscular thighs hold firm, and she kicks him away so that he falls heavily on
his back.  She stands over him, hands on her hips, waiting for his next move.

"James!  Look at her!  She looks as strong as you!"

"Hmmph!  Is that so?   Paula, you are observant," she purrs.  "Yes Mr. Bond.  Do look at me." 
She thrusts out her chest, her pectoral muscles now clearly visible through her shirt, straining
against the translucent, wet fabric.  She raises her arm, the bulging biceps pressing hard
against her shirt sleeves, which now barely contains them.  "As strong as you she says.  And
what do you think, Mr. Bond?"

"I ...  I feel so weak.  My strength ... it's ... I --

"You foolish man.  You are no match for F.E.M.M.  Why are you so weak?  How did I get so
strong?"  She grins at her biceps, still thickening, visibly stretching her t-shirt.  "Oh your
strength is right here, Mr. James Bond," she chirps.  She points to her right biceps and flexes
it, grinning as its steel-hard power crisply breaks through the fabric into a diamond-hard peak. 
"That and more.  Your muscle, transferred to me after it's been amplified several times by
F.E.M.M.'s secret technology, which soon we will use on a large scale."  The noise gets
louder and her muscles throb, pulsing larger with each beat of her heart.  She reaches down
and rips Bond's shirt off his body, revealing his bony chest and thin, fleshless arms. "What a
man you are!  Go on, James.  Hit me.  Give it all you've got.  See what the mighty Bond can
do against this little slip of a girl.  Won't you try to crush this 'fly'?"  

She stands sneering and thrusts out her mighty muscled chest confidently, her hands on her
solid hips, her biceps as thick as most men's calves.  Bond rises slowly, conserving his
strength, seeking  to mislead her into thinking he's weaker than he truly his.  Using all the
expertise of his years of special training, he fires his fist at Vickie's stomach.  His hand stops
cold against a rippling, impenetrable wall of muscle and she laughs, mocking his effort.  He
pulls back to try again, but with lightening quick reflexes she takes his hand in mid-punch and
spins him around, twisting his arm behind his back and lifting it, her power-engorged biceps
barely registering the effort needed to immobilize her enemy completely, while Bond cries
out in pain.

"I don't care how much training her majesty's secret service has given you.  Your strength is
just a small fraction of mine now.  There's nothing you can do to me."

Paula screams, "Stop it!  You'll break his arm!"  She rushes at Vickie, but she stops her in
mid-track with her free arm and lifts her off the ground by her stylish belt, leaving her
dangling horizontally, her full breasts bobbing in the air, freed from her loose, low-cut dress.

"You little fool.  You still defend him against me?  Against F.E.M.M.?  When if you joined
us, we could give you this power too!  Paula Fyre, as strong as ten James Bonds.  Think of
it!"

"Let him go!  I want nothing to do with you!   No real woman would act like this.  Why you
don't even look like a woman, you musclebound freak!  Oh poor James.  He's so helpless.  Let
him go!"

Vickie drops her roughly and nods, smiling at the curvy specimen of femininity laying before
her.  "So that's how you see it.  I was waiting to see what you'd choose Miss Fyre.  Very well. 
You think I am a freak?  We know there will be many women like you, foolishly loyal to their
men.  You will be of use to me too."  She looks upward and a high-pitched whine begins
alongside the low rumble.  Suddenly Paula starts shaking.

"What's that?  I feel --

Vickie pulls Paula to her feet.  "Yes, tell me, what do you feel?"

"James!  Help!  I feel like I'm being pulled inside out!"

Bond struggles, but he can't move an inch.  Meanwhile, Vickie is growing taller now and
Paula is shrinking, her statuesque, voluptuous body collapsing in on itself.  Very soon, Vickie
passes Paula and Bond in height, her breasts expanding, her hips growing rounder and more
womanly, until she stands almost half a foot taller than James and a foot and a half taller than
the five foot tall, flat-chested Paula.  Vickie's t-shirt has split at the top and has dropped down
to her tiny waist, resting loosely around her hips, leaving exposed her new full, round and
erect breasts, which she cups in evident pleasure, while letting her two hapless foes droop to
the ground.

"You see, we can take muscle from men and modify it to suit our bodies, but bone mass and
other organs must come from females.  Otherwise it dilutes the purity of our hormonal
balance, which is the key to the maintenance of the strength transfer.  Happily, there will
always be women like you, Paula, with your misguided views on the Feminine Ideal, to let us
grow to accommodate our new muscle, while keeping our womanly proportions."

She draws herself up to her full, commanding height.  "Am I villain enough for you now, Mr.
Bond?  And I'm not even finished with Paula yet!"  She lifts the waiflike Paula now and
clamps her to her chest.  "I'm sorry my dear, but the choice was yours to make."  The high-
pitched sound grows louder and Paula screams before her body shrinks into nothingness,
wholly absorbed into Vickie's.

"You are a nasty one," Bond says with a glare.

"No more than you can be, with your 'license to kill', Mr. Bond," she replies evenly.  She
picks him up, a bit more gently now.  "But you are so tame now, so harmless.  A girl might
even like you a little more."  She pulls him closer, bending down to kiss him, holding his
head so that he cannot escape.  "Mmm, tastes so good, even better for being a 'stolen kiss.'"

Bond pulls his head away, but Vickie cradles it with her arm and gracefully pulls him back to
her, drinking deeply from his mouth.  He moans, "Your arms, so hard, so strong, I ... can't

"So hard, so big, and so, so powerful, Mr. Bond.  So much more than you."  She holds him
out with one arm, letting him look at her in all of her new splendor.  Her fifty-inch chest, only
forty-two inches of it muscle, lay spread out before him, her breasts a feast too rich now for
his enfeebled body.  With one powerful hand she pulls down his too large pants, revealing his
erect rod, pointing at her face.  "How nice.  You're all ready for me, for the last part."  A new
tone fills the room, still more highly pitched.  "I don't mind telling you, because there's
nothing you can do about it.  Our technology is highly effective, even from a distance, but it
will not produce a permanent effect until it is combined with the chemicals you produce when
you ejaculate.  Until then, I am dependent on our FEMMINON rays to continuously pump
your strength into me.  Any interruption in it, and you would immediately regain your
strength.  That would be, er, unfortunate.  But a little sex will change that.  Can you feel it,
James?  Can you feel the last traces of your strength leaving your muscles?  It's flowing down
into your testes, gathering your force, collecting it for me, once and for all.  And when it's
ready, one taste of your semen will lock your power within me ... forever."

"No, no ... you can't.  I won't ... let you."  He struggles in her arms, but Vickie holds him
tightly.

"You're caught, Mr. Bond.  Like a fly, it seems."  She puts her mouth over his penis and starts
playfully sucking.  Bond feels around his body, but his clothes have all fallen to the floor.  
Vickie removes his member from her mouth.  "You aren't looking for the electromagnetic
pulse generator hidden in your pen, are you?  It fell out of your pocket when I tore off your
shirt.  So, Mr. Bond, I don't think you'll be disabling our power supply this evening.  And now
..."

She reinserts him in her mouth and begins anew, more rapidly than before.  Bond pushes at
her arms, but his weakened muscles are no match for the titanic power which surges into
towering masses of dense muscular flesh.  Switching tactics, he tries to use his tremendous
powers of concentration to resist the sexual urges building in him, yearning for release.  He
reconstructs the play by play of the 1978 World Cup semi-finals, in which . . .

"Well, Mr. Bond, you are clever," Vickie says, tonguing Bond's limp member.  But you've
forgotten one thing."  She locks his body tight against hers with one arm, her massive breasts
compressing his chest and begins fingering herself with her free hand.  Her eyes become
dreamy and she smiles.  Immediately, the room is filled with her alluring scent.  Bond's head
snaps upward, his eyes locking with hers.  "Yes, I thought you would notice.  Thanks to
Paula, and F.E.M.M., my phermones now have the intensity of those of five women.  You
may resist me with your mind, Mr. Bond, but your hormones are as helpless against me as
your arms.  Oh, I can feel you rising against me once again Mr. Bond.  No need for me to
suck you off.  Why give you the pleasure?  Just a taste is all I will need."  She adjusts him
more tightly so that his penis is pressed against her leg, which she flexes against him.  "Feel
how hard the muscles of my thigh are, feel their striations rubbing against your little penis." 
Close to her own orgasm, she moaned loudly.  "I'm almost sorry you're such a weakling now. 
It would have been something to make love to the man you used to be."

Bond's face contorts with horror.  He feels the odd nausea changing, become concentrated
somehow into a throbbing in his balls.  His mind works quickly, but his body, and his own
sex, seem wholly in thrall to the girl's will.  He looks at her, trying to gauge some weakness in
his powerful enemy, but no, that is a great mistake.  Her great muscular roundness, the ease of
her dominance over her, and her deep arousal affect him so that he cannot help himself.  His
eyes run over her bulging biceps, which so easily held him fast, and her trunklike legs, which
support their combined weight so lightly and he feels the explosion rising within him, the
release that will forever empower his foe and doom him to a life of enfeeblement.  He
struggles to contain it, but as he does, he can feel more and more of his strength draining out
of him.  Perhaps he is, at last, beaten.  Beaten by a slip of a girl and by a new conspiracy more
powerful than SPECTRE, more powerful than any communist or terrorist conspiracy.  By an
organization comprising half of the world's population, and that would soon hold 90% of the
world's power.  He surrenders to it, and shoots his load onto her thigh.

She feels his spasm and when she is satisfied he is done she throws him across the room,
where his thin body lands roughly against the wall.  Then, savoring her moment of
transformation, she slowly runs her finger along her thigh and brings a gob of Bond's cum to
her mouth, licking it like it was a gob of chocolate.  Her eyes close as a wave of energy flows
through her body and she hugs herself in the joy of her complete victory.  Meanwhile, Bond
also shakes, shuddering as he feels the cycle of his strength draining from him and returning
had ended.  His power is now forever hers.