Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 There is a valley in the Appalachian mountains where a confluence of
factors led to one of the most unusual chapters in humanity's biologic
history.  It is scores of miles from anything of note and has been largely
isolated for centuries.  Even before the arrival of Europeans on the
continent, the native peoples avoided the area.

   Stories were told of tribes attempting to live in this place that
appeared so welcoming but always the people would grow sick and weak.  Mice
and squirrels and other small beasts were plentiful but larger animals such
as the deer that roam the rest of the region freely could not thrive on its
lush vegetation.  It seemed that the land itself was poison.

   Early in America's western expansion, settlers found the valley and
settled it.  The local tribes were no longer around to warn them away... 
if they would have done such a favor for those that had driven them out of
their lands and infected them with strange diseases.  These early settlers
named its small river Ironbrook and thus the valley became known as
Ironcleft.

   The white men met much the same fate as those who had come before.  That
first year, five families settled in the lower reaches of the valley.  And
for the two or three years to follow, they thrived.  The livestock they had
brought and the crops they planted sustained them.  One might say that they
were fruitful and did multiply.

   After five years, the livestock began to fail.  The cattle were the
first to die off, young and old alike.  The sheep were not far behind
although the goats hung on for several years more.  The chickens did well
though and one family began raising hare for the cook pot.  Each year, the
harvests of grain and garden vegetables were plentiful.

   The adults that had first settled the land were healthy.  The children
however, both those that arrived as youngsters and those born in the
valley, fared poorly.  To a child, everyone under the age of ten was pallid
of skin and weak of bone.  They were prone to sickness of every sort.  Many
small graves were dug over those first ten years.

   The people of Ironcleft came to believe themselves cursed.  Each family
was forced to consider leaving the valley.

   In the year 1813, Jennifer Stram was born.  She was a healthy baby girl
born at a time when the adults of the valley were beginning to sicken
themselves.  They began to age prematurely and lost strength in their
limbs. Coughs and fevers became common.  Although their crops continued to
grow well, the sickening population had difficulty tending the fields and
bringing in the harvest.

   Despite this, Jennifer Stram thrived.  By the time she was four, she was
an active and rambunctious kid.  But she was the only person under the age
of twenty still alive in the valley.  Little Jenny was the only bright spot
in the increasingly harsh lives of the people of Ironcleft.

   When much of the crop of 1818 was left to rot in the fields due to the
population's inability perform the hard labor of harvest, the people
decided unanimously to leave the valley.  The land was cursed for certain
and none could stand the prospect of another life lost.

   The journey out of isolation was difficult but nothing of great note
befell the exodus.  The only thing worth mentioning about that trip was
Jennifer's behavior.  Normally a happy child, she was very fussy and often
became agitated.  She asked over and over again when they were going home.
She seemed to know instinctively in which direction Ironcleft lie and twice
had to be tracked down after she took off on her own to return home.

   They reached settled lands and sought refuge among the healthy and happy
people tending the rich farms of young America.  Each family found kind
folk to take them in, pledging to contribute to their collective livelihood
to the best of their ability.

   It took many months but the refugees from Ironcleft did slowly recover
their vigor.  The curse faded with time.

   --

   Jenny grew up healthy but wild.  She preferred solitude to playing with
the other children and could often be found staring off to the west in the
direction of her former home.  She insisted that all the food tasted wrong.
But still, she ate as much as any adult because she hungered often.

   Her build was broad of shoulder but sleek of flank.  Her long hair was a
dark brown that bordered on black.  The complexion of her skin was perhaps
the strangest of all.  It was clear and unblemished but appeared somewhat
coarse.  All inhabitants of the countryside were weathered by the sun but
Jennifer didn't tan so much as burnish.  Her skin had a depth of
yellow-and-umber coloring that none had seen before.

   Her eyes were a pale blue that was also unfamiliar.

   It took her parents and the people of the new community quite a while to
notice something else that was unusual about Jennifer.  She was rather
large for her age and abnormally strong for her size.  By the age of ten
she was nearly five feet tall.  She could carry loads several times her own
weight and was already stronger than many adult men.

   The strange thing was, Jenny herself felt weak.  She never discussed
things with anyone but she felt certain that she had been as strong or
stronger when she was six as when she was ten.  She had gown but felt like
she had gotten weaker as she did so.  Deep in her heart, Jenny knew that
something was wrong.

   Everyone worked from the age of eight or so in those days.  Jenny proved
herself very capable of every physical labor there was.  She spent
countless hours in the woods with an axe, felling trees and splitting wood
for fuel.  She had formed no friendships and took every opportunity she
could to be alone.

   By the age of twelve, Jennifer Stram stood five foot five in her bare
feet.  Her feet were always bare since she saw no point in wearing shoes;
her feet were tougher than any kind of cured hide and on them, shoes tended
to get ripped to shreds in a matter of days.  She was virtually a stranger
to everyone, even her own family.  She spoke very little.  She was happy to
do work and share the fruits of her labor but beyond that she had little
connection to the community.

   Something did change though at about this time.  Jenny's maturing body
began flooding her brain with hormones.  Her budding breasts softened her
squareish chest and traces of hair appeared in the usual places.  Jenny
grew fascinated with the mating of farm animals and what boys hid between
their legs.

   All of this is not unusual of course but for Jenny, the new feelings
that were invading her mind seemed overwhelming.  She also become more
interested in babies and would bluntly ask to hold any baby she happened
across.  Of course, Jenny's strange ways and reputation for not knowing her
own strength made mothers nervous and so Jenny had few opportunities to
actually experience babies and young children.

   Along with her new sexual awareness, Jenny's always-present longing for
her home in Ironcleft was suddenly stronger than ever.  The thought of
raising children in what she had come to think to herself as the "weak
lands" filled her with a dread that was almost physical queasiness.  At the
same time, she desperately wanted to have sex, become a woman and have
children.

   Ever awkward, Jenny began accosting men and boys.  She would try to
strike up innocent conversations but this always went poorly.  She began
skipping words.  Any time she found a boy or young man alone, she would
attempt to kiss them and grope their body.

   Not every male resisted her advances.  Several teen boys and a few older
men reciprocated her attentions.  A boy four years older than her was the
first to let Jenny touch his bare penis.  It was hard and very warm.  Jenny
was very gentle with it as she examined it closely and stroked it.  It was
no more than five inches long but was beautiful to her.  She let the boy
remove her blouse and cup his hands over her hard little breasts.

   They went no farther than that that first day but in the month to come,
Jenny got her hands on four more hard cocks, jacking two of them off to
climax.  One was a married older man of about thirty.  Jenny stripped
completely for him and let him watch as her strong fingers kneaded the
flesh of her nearly bald vagina as she brought herself to climax.

   The man's name was Tom.  His cock was nearly eight inches long and she
asked him to take her virginity but he insisted that he could not be
unfaithful to his wife.

   The very next time Jenny was alone with a boy, she immediately told him
that she wanted him to take her virginity.  Samuel was only fifteen and
even though she was just twelve, she was bigger than him and obviously much
stronger and he was scared of her.  If she had been any other girl, he
would have been thrilled beyond words at such an opportunity.  As it was,
it was only the hard look in her eyes that prevented him from fleeing. 
Escape was obviously impossible.

   Still, his hard little dick had no objections.  Jenny stripped and lay
back in the hay.  The boy mounted her as he had seen his parents do a time
or two and didn't have much trouble finding her hole.  He began to slide in
gently.  The hot, pulsing head of his cock entered her and he felt her
hymen resist his penetration.  She was wet and slippery down there and very
warm.  He pushed harder, knowing that the barrier he was hitting was
supposed to break.  He couldn't get in.  He pushed harder.  Jenny was
panting heavily beneath him, close to orgasm but becoming frustrated. 
"Come on boy, push.  You're not hurting me, just do it!"

   Poor Samuel was trying.  His dick was as hard as it had ever been in his
life but it threatened to bend in half as he grunted and panted.  Jenny's
cherry refused to part.

   Angry now, Jenny grabbed him by the shirt he still wore and spun him
around into the hay next to her.  She straddled his hips and grabbed his
cock.  She forgot to be gentle and Samuel shrieked as she nearly crushed
the engorged organ.  Ignoring his struggles, she pressed the purple head
against her slit and bore down on it.  Once again, it pressed against her
hymen.  She let her body press down harder and harder on the stiff little
appendage.  Tears were flowing from Samuel's eyes.  It felt like his
precious horn was going to snap in two.  He begged Jenny to stop but she
didn't seem to hear.

   She had the entire weight of her body on the point of Sam's cock and her
stubborn cherry gave no hint that it might break.  She tried bouncing on it
a couple times.  Sam was hitting her now, striking her face and chest with
closed fists.  There was a desperate strength to his struggles but to
Jenny, his blows were completely harmless.  She finally noticed his
distress.  Frustrated beyond words, she relented.  She got off the poor kid
and stood looking down at him.  He immediately bent into a ball, clutching
his genitals.  She was so mad at the situation, she almost kicked him. 
Fortunately for Samuel, Jenny was thoughtless and unsociable but not cruel.
She controlled herself and stormed out of the barn.

   It was a full five minutes later that she shamefacedly returned.  She
had left her cloths behind and had made it a couple hundred yards away
before noticing her nudity.  Sam was still crying, curled up in a ball. 
Jenny hesitated before leaving him again but told herself that she would
check back in a few hours.  She didn't really want to deal with the kid and
if he could get himself together on his own then that would be easiest.

   She did check the barn later that night but Sam was gone.  Apparently he
never told anyone else about what had happened but he avoided her like
seven kinds of plague after that.  Actually, he pretty much avoided all
women for many years.

   Jenny tried two more times in the next week with older guys.  A twenty
year old with a beautiful penis that reminded her of Tom's struggled for
half an hour.  Jenny had learned her lesson and did not try to take
control...  she didn't want to hurt anyone.  The guy was aggressive and
sure of himself to begin with.  He tried ramming himself into her.  He made
her climax once that way but the barrier held.  He let her wrap her legs
around his ass and try to force him in.  Jenny was hesitant to try this. 
She knew she could break his pelvis or snap his back if she was not
careful. But she did as he asked.  He grunted and panted and expressed
amazement at her strength.  She tried hard not to laugh but failed.  When
he asked her what was so funny, she just shook her head.  She knew better
to explain to him how little effort she was making.

   After that guy gave up, Jenny was at her wit's end.  She went to Tom and
told him about the problem.  He still refused to make love to her and told
her honestly that he didn't think he'd have any better luck.  She cried on
his shoulder for a while.  Finally, he suggested two things.  Well, first
he told her that he thought she should just wait until she was older but
that didn't go over well.  So then he offered her two ideas.  The first was
a name...  Arnold Leventher.  The second was something Tom hesitate to
bring up but Jenny was obviously desperate and it had occurred to him that
she could end up really hurting someone.  So, he told her that she could
consider using something sturdy and roughly penis shaped to break her hymen
artificially.  But he cautioned her against using anything sharp.

   Well, she could always try the later...  later.  But Arnold Leventher...

   She knew the name.  He lived some ten miles away and was the blacksmith
for the largest town in the area.  Two things recommended him as a
cherry-buster.  First, he was a big man and heavily muscled as blacksmiths
usually were.  And also, he was something of a brute.  He treated women
badly.  In fact, five years earlier his wife had died.  Arnold claimed that
it had been fever that took her but the battered and broken condition of
the corpse told a different story.

   Jenny did not like Arnold.  She had considered visiting him before... 
she wondered which of them was stronger and had had fantasies of
humiliating him.  But this might be almost as good.  With the way Jenny's
mind worked, it never occurred to her that she could be the one that got
hurt.  She did not think herself invincible...  far from it.  She had had
enough minor accidents while working in the woods to know that she could be
injured.  But she just never thought in terms of threats and fear.

   Not only might Arnold be physically strong enough to take Jennifer's
virginity, any damage that might be done to him in the process would be
well deserved.

   Tom had actually given some serious thought to his suggestion.  Based on
a few things he had seen...  especially the time he had watched Jenny drag
an enormous log across a field when she thought no one was watching...  Tom
was pretty sure she was much stronger than the blacksmith and would be able
to protect herself.  He found himself hoping that the man would get hurt
and wished he could watch.

   --

   Jenny came upon Arnold as he headed home from the tavern a few nights
later.  He was in a foul mood because the owner had thrown him out once
again for bothering the women.  Arnold figured he could whip any three men
but the tavern had been full of husbands and brothers and fathers that
would have been happy to help teach the blacksmith a lesson in respect. 
Well, he'd just visit the tavern later when the owner and his family were
alone...

   Arnold only vaguely knew who Jenny was.  Her family lived nearly a day's
travel away.  She looked to be sixteen or so and very ripe.  She walked up
to him boldly and told him he was the only real man she'd ever met and she
wanted him to teach her what it meant to be a woman.  Jenny was a terrible
liar.  If he hadn't had such a delusional, inflated opinion of his own
importance or maybe if he hadn't been distracted by the shape of her
nipples showing through the thin dress she wore, he may have been
suspicious.  As it was, his anger at the world vanished in a blink at the
prospect of some delicate young flesh.  He told her he'd be happy to oblige
and immediately grabbed her by the waste and wrapped his hands around the
globes of her ass.  When he felt the hard power of her muscles, he
mistakenly believed her to be resisting.  Jenny thought she was just
wiggling playfully.

   She pushed herself away from him, breaking his hold effortlessly.  She
asked him to take her to his home.  He led her down the street, his hand
wrapped around her forearm, hauling her along as was his habit.  He was
normally deaf to a woman's complaints at such rough handling and so did not
notice their lack as Jenny followed quietly.

   Arnold stood 5'10" and was massive across the chest and shoulders. 
Jenny's deceptive form was lean without obvious muscle mass...  one of
Arnold's biceps was probably equal to three of hers.  The crown of her head
met the level of his lips and like every woman he'd ever been with, he
dwarfed Jenny.  And like every woman he'd ever been with, willing or
otherwise, he spent no time on endearments or even basic kindness.  As soon
as they entered his hovel, he shoved her down onto the course straw
mattress.

   Jenny watched him calmly as he stripped off his clothing.  His cock was
already hard when she got a look at it in the flickering lantern light.  It
was probably seven inches long and very thick.  Her body shivered in
anticipation.  Surely someone as big and strong as Arnold, with a member of
that stature, would be able to take her virginity.

   Arnold saw her staring at his dick and grinned.  He detected no fear in
her eyes...  normally a young girl would be crying by this point.  This
young lady must really be hot to trot.  If someone had told him at that
moment that she was only twelve, he wouldn't believe them.  True, her
body's shape didn't seem entirely mature but she was so tall and study
looking she must be fully grown.

   Arnold placed his hands at the neck of her dress and ripped it from her.
Watching a woman leave his place huddled behind tattered clothing was
enormously satisfying as was the shocked expression that always accompanied
even this simple violation.  His eyes burned as he gazed upon her softly
trembling bosom.  The nipples topping her small mounds were dark of hue and
crinkled hard with anticipation.  She had worn no undergarment.  Chuckling,
he covered her body with his, grabbing her crotch with his right hand. 
There was very little of her dark hair down there and the lips of her slit
were thin.  But the mound was soft and he could feel the little pea of her
clitoris roll around under his palm.

   She was wet down there.  She was ready.  He told her how lucky she was
and how great being a woman was going to be.  Arnold's attitude towards
women was schizophrenic...  he had no real respect for them and imagined
their lives to be centered solely around sex.  He thought they liked his
rough ways but he also liked the way they would cry and beg for escape.

   He centered his body over hers and pressed his knob into her slit.  Her
labia parted easily and his head slid into her honey hole.  His grin got
even wider when he felt the barrier there.  She really was cherry.  He
stayed there many long heartbeats, relishing the anticipation.  Then,
without warning, he thrust forward powerfully.

   Jenny grunted as his weight bore her down into the mattress.  She could
feel the thin barrier of flesh strain against the pressure...  but it held.

   It took Arnold a few moments to realize he hadn't penetrated her.  He
looked down at her in puzzlement.  "You'll have to do better than that" she
said with a hint of condescension.

   Not knowing whether to laugh or snarl at that, Arnold tried again.  He
settled his entire weight onto the girl but to no avail.  He jabbed at her
repeatedly, panting heavily.  It was like some kind of nightmare...  to
have such a lovely morsel at the tip of his cock but to be unable to skewer
her properly.

   After five minutes of tolerating his efforts, Jenny had enough.  "I
thought you were a man.  I thought you could make me a woman.  But you
can't.  You're no good to me at all."

   Angry and confused, Arnold responded the only way he knew how.  He
closed his fist, cocked it back and let fly with a haymaker punch.  It was
the kind of punch that broke jaws and knocked grown men out.  It was the
kind of punch that had killed his wife.

   Jenny's head whipped back under the impact as his knuckles plastered
themselves across her cheek.  The punch stung but her head remained clear.
She had been half waiting for things to turn violent ever since Tom
suggested this course of action.  She looked into his eyes and sneered. 
"Why didn't you say you wanted to play rough?" she asked.

   She wrapped her legs around his ass and clenched him towards her. 
Fortunately, his penis was still in line and it sunk in to press against
her hymen.  Jenny pressed against his backside with enough strength to
crush a log.

   Arnold screamed.  His dick simply bent under the pressure and his pelvis
was forced against hers.  Her cherry still did not break but as the
pressure continued to mount, his pelvis threatened to.

   When his shaft bent, Jenny thought for a moment that she had finally
lost her virginity.  But then she realized she could still feel the same
pressure against her hymen.  Wondering what had happened, she released him
and then tossed him out of the bed.  He hit the floor hard, prone on his
back.  There was a stunned expression in his eyes.

   She knelt beside him and examined his dick.  A deep band of bruising
showed where it had buckled under pressure.  She jerked and twisted at it
briefly.  Aside from the bruising, it seemed intact and was still hard. 
"Well, let's try this then." She muttered.

   Jenny straddled the blacksmith and directed his abused cock back to the
entrance of her slit.  She sank all her weight down onto it.

   This roused Arnold.  Shaking his head in un-accustomed fear, he
attempted to fight Jenny off.  She kept her feet hooked around the tops of
his legs, forcing them flat and denying them any leverage.  Arnold swung a
fist at her again...  she caught it in one hand, squeezing it enough to
make the joints grind.  She grabbed his other arm and held them both aloft.
Arnold thrashed around desperately but could not weaken her iron grip.

   Jenny began bouncing up and down on his manhood.  She was making no
progress with her cherry but the stimulation felt good.  Arnold was
blubbering and begging now.  Smiling down at him, Jenny began using his
arms for extra leverage, pulling herself down harder and harder onto his
body.

   His cock was bending in half with every bounce now, bursting blood
vessels along its entire length.

   Jenny brought herself to climax and dismounted her ruined steed.  "That
was kind of fun but I'm still a virgin." She said to no one in particular.
Arnold's genitals were swollen and nearly black with bruising.  His eyes
were vacant and he appeared to be unconscious or at least in some sort of
shock.

   Jenny looked around the filthy little room and found a hatchet near the
door.  Hefting it, she examined the handle.  It wasn't quite as thick as
Arnolds cock but was much longer and no doubt sturdier.  Shrugging with
resignation, Jenny sank to her knees and positioned the butt of the handle
against her pussy and let the hatchet's head rest on the wooden floor.  She
bore down on her hymen with all her weight.

   It hurt.  It hurt more than anything else she had tried which she took
to be a good sign.  Lifting herself a bit, she tried dropping down onto the
shaft.  The pain made her grunt but her cherry held.  She jabbed at it this
way multiple times, dropping farther and harder with each attempt.  Tears
were streaming from her eyes in pain and frustration.

   Finally, she stood up.  Gathering her resolve, she concentrated for a
moment and then let her body drop like a stone, holding the tool tightly to
her maidenhead and centering all her weight and momentum on it.

   She screamed when it struck the floor but quickly realized that her
amazing flesh still had not yielded.  Panting, momentarily blind in agony,
Jenny wracked her brain.

   She was relying on gravity and she soon realized that that was her
mistake.  She sometimes caught herself thinking like an ordinary person. 
For most people, using gravity to increase the force they could bring to
bear made sense.  The weight of their bodies and the momentum of a fall
could usually produce more power than their muscles alone.

   That wasn't true for Jenny; not by a long shot.  Her sturdy and dense
frame was heavier than it looked but not by all that much.  Jenny was
suddenly convinced that all she really needed was her own strength and some
way to get leverage against her own body.

   Looking around the room, she noticed that Arnold's bed sat a foot off
the floor on sturdy wooded legs.  Rising again, moisture-slicked hatchet in
one hand, Jenny bent to move Arnold's body out of the way.  She hooked one
arm between his legs and around one thigh.  She absently noticed that he
was still breathing.  She lifted his lower body, braced his thigh against
her own, twisted and heaved.

   The blacksmith's heavy form flipped through the air, landing against the
far wall of the small shack.  Arnold groaned and curled up into a ball,
wishing he could wake up from his nightmare.

   Jenny sat down near the leg at the foot of the bed.  She scooted in
close and slid her right leg under the bed.  She slid the handle back into
her vagina's entrance and hooked her calf around the bed's leg.  Pulling
the bed towards her, the girl set the hatchet's head against the wooden
support.  Awkwardly, she swung her other leg around to until she was
sitting cross legged with the bed's leg fort of in her lap.  Now she would
be able to pull herself onto the hatchet with the strength of both of her
legs.

   Licking her lips and taking a breath, Jenny crunched her legs, pulling
the bed and hatchet in to her body.

   Almost instantly, Jenny began to see stars as her hymen protested. 
Steeling herself, she continued increasing pressure.  The pain didn't
matter.

   Panting heavily to keep from screaming, Jenny felt the flesh of her
pussy stretch reluctantly.  The girl was using two or three times the
pressure that had nearly killed Arnold and was approaching the limit of her
strength...  but then it happened.  With a shriek given volume by her
powerful lungs that would sting her throat for days and could be heard two
miles away, Jenny felt an explosion of pain that made everything else seem
trivial.  Her cherry gave way and the rest of the hatchet's handle plunged
into her sex like a battering ram, the steel head smashing her clit like a
thumb under a hammer.

   The pain was excruciating but at the same time her body was flooded with
a feeling of elated release.  Pussy burning in agony and tortured, possibly
mangled clitoris throbbing, Jennifer Stram laughed with joy.  She'd done
it. She'd forced to body to bend to her will.  In that moment of supreme
effort and shocking pain, she felt truly powerful.

   After laying there recovering for several minutes, the newly made woman
pulled herself away from the bed and extracted the hatchet from her aching
pussy.  There was very little blood on it.  Why had it hurt so much?  That
was a bit of a silly question of course since she had just subjected her
genitals to enough pressure to squeeze the life out of a horse or drive a
fence post four feet into the ground

   In her tattered dress, Jenny left the shack a few minutes later, Arnold
all but forgotten.  The blacksmith never caused anyone any trouble again.
He lived, mind you, but his manhood was utterly incapable of an erection
and his mind held deep fears of which he never spoke.







   Having taken care of her virginity, Jenny Stram set out to get pregnant.
She couldn't explain her motives but she was driven by two overwhelming
urges...  to become a mother and to return to the Ironcleft valley.

   She pursued the former in her typically direct manner.  Within two weeks
of her encounter with the blacksmith and his hatchet, she had sex dozens of
times with ten different men and boys.  Growing tired of sneaking around
barns and outhouses, Jenny decided to build herself a shack in the woods.
In the process, she learned to split logs evenly and some simple carpentry.
The tiny cabin was only about 5 foot by ten foot and had a dirt floor
covered with blankets laid over straw.  A few boards nailed together and
leaned against the entrance served as her door.

   Jenny continued to do most of the community's fuel collection but became
even more reclusive.  Nevertheless, word had gotten out to every male
within twenty miles...  Jenny Stram would fuck anyone at any time.  All you
had to do was walk up to her and she'd take you to her rough bed and mate
with you.  Or let you mount her on the ground where you stood.

   Within a month of her shack's first christening, there wasn't a virgin
male over the age of twelve to be found within a day's travel.

   Jennifer's body seemed all but incapable of fatigue.  She'd work
chopping and hauling wood ten or twelve hours a day, only stopping for a
few minutes now and then to stuff some food in her mouth or fuck someone
who happened to be passing by.  At night, a steady stream of visitors kept
her legs spread and the portal to her womb bathed in seed.  Her eyes would
grow heavy and she would sleep but at no time was her body ever slowed by
fatigue.

   She stopped concealing her strength.  She built herself a two-sided
rack-and-harness arrangement to help her carry and deliver wood.  It was
made of wooden staves and leather straps and hung from her shoulders.  She
was able to stack the wood across her chest and back, allowing her to
balance the large load.  She had a frame for it that allowed her to load it
up first before slipping into it.

   The sight of a ten-foot stack of wood traveling down the road atop a
pair to flashing brown legs became common in the area.  Jenny regularly
carried 800 pounds or more with her rig, traveling many miles without rest.


   --

   In the early fall of that year, rumors of Indian raiders operating to
the west were the main topic of the day.  A company of militia passed
through the area while on the way to confront the menace.  When the fifty
men and officers settled in to camp for the night, Jenny offered her
services.  The local males were all so busy with the start of the harvest
that her supply of cock had dwindled down to just two or three guys a day.
If she had still been getting her full accustomed diet, even Jenny Stram
would have probably thought twice about placing herself into the tender
care of so many young men.  But as it was, she had urges that were not
being satisfied and she just couldn't help herself.

   The company stayed through the entire next day and night.  The officers
would have faced mutiny if they had insisted on leaving such an opportunity
behind.  Over the course of thirty-six hours or so, Jenny copulated with
every member of the militia at least once and in some cases four or five
times.  Every two hours or so she went for a dip in a nearby stream and the
troops kept her supplied with food and drink.  In the darkest hours of the
night she got four hours of sleep or so.

   There was no stop in Jenny Stram.  Hours of being roughly fucked on her
back atop coarse blankets or dry grass left no marks or bruises.  A number
of the men, psychological cousins to blacksmith Arnold, roughly mauled her
chest and attempted to bend her body in unnatural ways.  The mauling felt
good and left no sign of the violence done.  Her body would not bend a
single millimeter farther than it wished.

   There was only one young but oversized private that she felt the need to
actually resist.  He wanted to stick his dick in her ass and wasn't taking
no for an answer.  So she'd tossed him ten feet in the air and over a
nearby fire.  That had given the troops pause but only as long as it took
her to spread her legs again.

   Jenny climaxed hundreds of times and gallons of sperm was shot into her
hole.

   Even after thirty hours of constant sex, her pussy was a tight little
slit that left many of the men bruised and tender.  When the officers
finally got the men moving late the second morning, Jenny just put her
simple dress back on and started chopping wood.  Aside from the constant
drainage from her vagina running down her legs, she showed no signs of
wear. That night two locals visited her and they noticed nothing different
about her body or her eagerness.

   It was too bad the company couldn't stay longer.

   --

   Five months after losing her virginity, Jenny Stram missed her menstrual
cycle for the second time in a row.  She knew that she was pregnant.  She
began making plans to leave for Ironcleft.  She did not know why the urge
to return to her birthplace was so strong but it was unmistakable.  Perhaps
she could have resisted the urge if she had had a greater connection to the
folk she lived among but that was not the case.  She would miss her parents
and Tom, the only other person she had been able to have real conversations
with.  Ironically, he was one of the very few men in the area that had
never fornicated with her.  She had plans to change that but first she had
other tasks to complete.

   Jenny Stram was hardly qualified to found a homestead on her own.  She
knew little of farming or hunting or the preparation of food.  Even with
her strength and endurance, the notion of a single person with little
experience heading out into the wilds was preposterous.  For a young
expectant mother to do so was outright suicidal.  But once again, Jenny
simply never felt fear or perceived danger very well.  She didn't even feel
concern over the prospect of giving birth alone in the wilderness.

   Knowing that she was pregnant reduced Jenny's overwhelming sex drive
somewhat.  She was no longer subject to the constant need to have her pussy
filled hot man-cream.  But the men of the area still sought her out and she
saw no reason to turn any away.  Indeed, having the edge taken off her
hunger allowed her to enjoy the experience more.  And sex with Jenny became
a less bruising and dangerous adventure for the men as well.

   By the time Jennifer began planning for her move to Ironcleft, she had
turned thirteen and stood 5'8".  She was already taller than a majority of
men.  Her breasts continued to gradually fill out though they were still
less than a handful.  The swell of her hips softened and rounded slightly
and the pelt between her legs had thickened considerably.

   Her dark hair was long and ragged, extending down to the middle of her
back when it wasn't knotted on top of her head.  The dark tone of her skin
was unblemished by any kind of mark save her almost black nipples and
areolas.  Though it appeared soft; to the touch there was a surprising dry,
rubbery texture to it.  Water beaded on her skin oddly.

   Jenny began collecting supplies.  Seeds for wheat and corn and a
collection of vegetables as well as some potatoes.  She would take her two
large axes and a variety of hatchets and steel wedges.  She packed hoes and
shovels.  Bolts of thick wool and her meager collection of clothing as
well. Vaguely aware that salt could be used to preserve meat, she bought a
fifty pound bag.  Some cast iron skillets and a dutch oven also went into
her load.

   She modified her carry rig with large burlap bags and loaded it up. 
Even living in the weak lands where she could barely stomach the food,
Jenny ate about twice what a gown man did.  After dealing with what
essentials she thought she needed, she topped off the rest of her pack with
flour and corn meal and lard and some salted pork.

   The frame supporting her pack collapsed once and she had to re-build it.
When she had loaded everything she thought she could manage, the entire rig
weighed just under a thousand pounds.  Jenny didn't get along with horses
very well and she would be traveling across open country that would render
any wagon far more of a burden than help.  She would simply carry
everything she needed herself.  In one trip.  Probably traveling twelve
hours a day at a fast walk.

   She would be leaving just as spring began to lick the snow-covered land.
Ironcleft lay about a hundred and fifty miles away; Jenny thought she could
make it there in no more than four days.  Three if things went well.

   Before leaving, she said goodbye to her parents.  Her decision to leave
did not surprise them and they knew there was no way to keep her from
leaving but they begged her to wait until after their grandchild was born.
Jenny tried to explain how important it was that she start eating the
proper food she was sure she would find in the valley so that her child may
grow properly and become strong.  Whatever curse the land held, Jenny was
certain that it was the source of her strength and that her baby would
inherit it.

   The weak lands were no place for a child of hers.

   Jenny visited Tom the night before she planned to leave.  She would have
dearly loved to have her child fathered by him but that had not happened;
she had no clue who the father was.  But she still felt that her
relationship with the older man was incomplete and was determined to make
love to him.  In fact, it was the first time she had thought of sex in
those terms.

   Jenny stood in Tom's home and removed her dress.  She grabbed Tom and
kissed him hard.  He was of equal height with her and her body melded
closely to his.  She tried to be gentle, careful not to hurt him.

   Tom struggled and told her to stop.  He yelled at her.  His wife walked
in and started screaming at Jenny.  Angry and frustrated, Jenny released
the man and turned on Tom's wife.  Murder was in her eyes.  The woman went
silent in fear, backing away hastily but refusing to leave the room.  "Get
out." Tom said.  Jenny turned back to him, hurt and shock in her eyes. 
"Jenny, you need to learn.  You can't have everything your way.  Get out".

   Jenny grabbed his arm near the shoulder.  Tom winced, afraid it would
break.  She pawed the front of his trousers.  "You're hard.  I can just
take what I want."

   Tom was shaking with emotion.  "Yes, you can.  I'm asking you not to
ruin my marriage.  I'm asking you to leave."

   "But this is our last chance, Tom." Jenny pleaded.  "I'm leaving
tomorrow.  I'm going back to Ironcleft."

   "I know Jenny.  I wish you good fortune and whatever happiness you can
find.  But I can't have sex with you."

   Jenny stared at him a long time.  His wife was sobbing quietly, afraid
at what might happen.  For a moment, Jenny gripped his arm harder, making
him gasp in pain.  He could swear the bone was bending.  But with a jerk,
she released him.  Turning on her heals; she stalked out of the house.  She
ripped the door of its hinges as she went, gritting her teeth and venting
her anger.  She threw it across the yard and it shattered against the side
of the barn, staving in some of the wall's boards as it hit.

   She blazed a straight path to her shack in the woods, leaving uprooted
bushes and shattered fence posts in her wake.  Her vision was crimson with
rage.  Twice she stopped and turned, nearly returning to take what she
wanted.  It crossed her mind that if Tom's wife were dead, he could not
refuse her.  But ultimately, she knew she would feel the guilt for the rest
of her life.

   When she reached her shack, her vision had cleared and her blood was no
longer roaring in her ears.  She felt spent and empty inside.  There were
two men waiting there for her, expecting a chance to screw the local weirdo
slut.  She ignored them.

   Her rampage across the county had left her dress in tatters.  She'd worn
her best for Tom but it didn't matter now.  Tearing it off, she dropped it
in the smoldering firepit.  The men grinned but she still didn't
acknowledge them.  Mustering the last of her rage and roaring, she extended
her arms and ran through her shed, pulling it down around her and busting
through the far wall.  The structure collapsed.  Screaming and sobbing, she
picked up the pieces of her home and beat them against the ground and
nearby trees, busting it down to smaller and smaller pieces.  She broke
thick boards across her own head and knees.

   The two men fled for their lives.

   When there was nothing left to break, she piled most of the wreckage on
top of the fire.  She didn't stay long enough to watch it catch.  She
gathered a bunch of blankets and a few last pieces of clothing from the
spot of ground where her shack and been and stuffed them into her pack. 
Still naked, she slipped into her rig and lifted it.  The straps groaned
and squeaked as the load settled across her body.  With difficulty, she was
able to maneuver the pack's stand up onto the top of her load...  she had
no other way of getting into the rig and would need it later.

   There was no reason to wait until tomorrow.

   Tears trailing from her eyes and a thousand pounds of supplies across
her shoulders, Jennifer Stram headed west, away from anything hinting at
civilization and its weakness.







   Jennifer slept for a few hours around dawn wrapped in a couple blankets
and then carried on.  Her breath showed in the crisp spring air but her
body stayed warm from exertion and she remained naked.  The leather straps
supporting her load would have worn through any clothing in under an hour.
They did nothing more to her tough skin than leave pale pressure marks that
faded within minutes.

   Jenny made good time, her long tireless strides eating up the miles. 
She bypassed two homesteads that she recognized by the threads of smoke
they cast skyward and never saw another soul.

   After a day of travel, she came upon a river.  She didn't know its name
or if it even had one but she was pretty sure it was the one Ironbrook fed
into.  She followed it for about fifty miles along its east bank.  She was
looking for a place to cross as well as the stream that would lead her
home.

   Jenny couldn't swim.  She had tried but it was perhaps the only physical
activity for which she was ill suited.  Her dense body sank like a stone.
Of course, even if she could swim, that wouldn't get her pack across.  She
had to find a crossing where she could wade.  She had been so young when
her family had fled the valley, she had no idea how or where they had
forded the barrier.

   Finally, she did find a broad and shallow stretch.  She load on her back
weighed her down and gave her additional purchase against the current.  She
had some difficulty when the water got deep enough to start washing against
her packs.  They extended down to her hips and when the water started
pushing against them, she had to fight powerfully against it.  The load
made her extremely top-heaving and balance was a challenge.  The riverbed
was coarse gravel that slid from under her feet continuously.

   By keeping her stance spread wide and by constantly digging her toes
deep into the river bed, she was able to make slow progress and finally
crossed to the other side.

   The river crossing had been stressful and had been the most tiring thing
Jenny had ever experienced.  She hastily removed her pack, not taking the
time to untangle its stand but letting it collapse onto the ground.  She'd
have to reassemble it later but she had no schedule to keep.

   She went to drink from the river.

   The clear, cold water tasted wonderful.  It almost made her toes tingle.
It took several minutes for realization to dawn on Jenny.  There was a
taste in the water that she recognized.  A taste she had been craving for
all the years she was separated from her rightful home.

   Plunging her face into the waters, she drank deeply.  The medley of
flavors, bitter and metallic and acrid all at the same time, were faint by
unmistakable.  She was on the right track.  It must be the essence of
Ironcleft that she tasted.

   Quickly eating some hard bread and a hunk of pork, Jenny rebuilt her rig
and slid into it.  Eager now, she headed upstream.

   It was early on her third day of travel when she came upon a confluence.
She held her breath.  Was this the Ironbrook?  There was no way to tell
just by looking.  She tasted the waters of the tributary.  The flavors she
sought exploded in her mouth.  The woman trembled with excitement.  She'd
found it.  She could follow this glorious stream up into the mountains and
finally be home.

   She quickly covered the final ten miles, following the Ironbrook
upstream.  Shortly after noon, she came across the first ruined homestead.
The small, doomed settlement into which she had been born had been
comprised of eight families by the time the people had given up in the face
of pervasive sickness.  Jenny stood with her load on her back, staring at
the weather-worn cabin.  The shutters had fallen away from both its windows
and she could see grass and weeds sprouting thickly from between the rough
floorboards.

   Jenny would have liked to explore a bit but that would have meant taking
off her pack.  That was a chore that she had quickly grown to hate.

   So she pressed on further upstream.  The settlement had been widely
scattered along roughly three miles of the stream's course.  Jenny vaguely
remembered that her family's home had been on the southern side of the
stream and was one of the furthest up the valley.

   As she went, she saw signs of former habitation.  The small fields the
people had worked had been invaded by native growth but still also
contained a lot of the corn and wheat that had been planted there.  As she
remembered from her childhood, there were rabbits and field mice
everywhere. The cursed valley was a haven for small creatures...  they
seemed immune to whatever it was that killed off the larger creatures while
foxes and wolves and bears most certainly were not immune.  Of course,
predators from neighboring valleys did often stray into the toxic territory
and the land's poison was very slow working but on average, there were
fewer threats to small creatures here.

   Jenny had her face towards the afternoon sun and could see little of the
terrain in front of her.  Because of this, she almost passed her former
home.  But after nearly tripping over an old fence rail, she looked around
and saw the old cabin a couple hundred yards away.

   She ran the final distance, half a ton supplies rattling around about
her violently.  The small yard in front of the house where she clattered to
a stop was completely overgrown.  Shaking with excitement, Jenny wrestled
her pack off her shoulders and cast it aside.  Her gear flew twenty feet
and crushed a path through the tall grass.

   The door was still on its hinges.  She opened it gently.

   --

   Over the next several months, Jenny Stram worked to make a home in the
old settlement.  She scoured the area for anything useful that had been
left behind.  The people of Ironcleft had been in bad shape by the time the
decision was made to flee the cursed land and they had left most of their
possessions behind.  Jenny had her choice of a half-dozen plows and there
were two anvils, though the woman knew nothing of blacksmithing.  She also
had her choice of houses but remained in her family home.

   Jenny drank her fill of Ironbrook water at every opportunity.  It
continued to fulfill her in ways no other food or drink had since she had
left the supposedly cursed land.  It was early in the season and the corn
and wheat struggling to grow in the weed-choked fields were far from
harvest but there were rabbits and feral chickens in abundance.

   The young woman knew nothing of trapping and the twine snares she tried
to devise failed to catch a single critter.  However, Jenny soon abandoned
these knotted tangles when she discovered how easy it was to bring down a
rabbit with a thrown rock.  Her reflexes were no better than an ordinary
person's but she had a knack for throwing accurately and the small stones
whipped from her powerful arm with shocking speed.  The only problem was
that the blows her missiles inflicted tended to shatter bones, making
dressing the animals more difficult.

   The meat of the chickens and rabbits she killed was as deeply satisfying
as Ironbrook's water.  Jenny gorged herself repeatedly, eating eight or ten
rabbits a night.  Several times she went to bed with a visible bulge in her
stomach.

   Jenny wore no clothing.  Nothing short of ancient plate mail could offer
her better protection than her own skin and short of that, her hard labor
would quickly shred anything she tried to wear.  She left her few cloths
packed away for some unforeseeable future occasion.

   As long as she was active, she never felt cold.  She did bundle up
thoroughly when going to sleep though and would feel the chill each morning
as she began her day.

   With food so abundant for the time being, Jenny's days were free of
care. She spent much of her time exploring the valley.  In the open plains
of the lower valley, she would run everywhere.

   Jenny could run faster than a galloping horse for four or five hours
without growing tired.  It was sometimes difficult to get started and even
harder to stop or turn but in a straight line, Jenny could cover ground at
an amazing pace.

   Free of any burdens, Jenny would even leave the valley for a time,
exploring for a couple hundred miles in every direction.  The un-named
community she had recently left was within this range and was the largest
but there was a score of lone homesteads and small villages in the area. 
Jenny realized that eventually she would have to have some contact with
other people.  If nothing else, she intended to have more than just one
child.

   Jenny passed the summer in idyllic bliss in this way.  Slowly, her
stomach began to grow with the life that was taking shape there.  She would
probably be giving birth in late fall.  This should have concerned the girl
but it didn't.  She was merely excited.  She was feeling better and
stronger than ever before in her life.  She was more certain than ever that
Ironcleft was her place in the world and it would be for her children as
well.

   Jenny ate freely from the vegetable gardens that had been left behind by
the settlers.  They were in very poor shape by any standard but they did
produce a little fresh food.  As fall approached, she harvested corn and
wheat as best she could.  Her methods where crude and inefficient but being
alone, she didn't need an enormous stockpile.

   Over the course of the summer and most of that fall, Jenny Stram grew
another two inches in height.

   She slowed her activities some as her belly grew heavy.  There was
nothing about the negligible weight of her baby and its support system that
made anything difficult for her but she feared hurting it.  As the weather
grew colder her breasts swelled in preparation for the child that was to
come.  At her reduced level of activity, Jenny began feeling the cold more.
She clumsily stitched dozens of rabbit skins together in multiple layers to
make herself a coat.  She also made a thickly lined pack to carry the baby
in.

   Jenny stockpiled water, dried rabbit meat and stacks of the coarse
flat-bread she had been making as she sensed the approach of the birth. 
Her wood pile was always well stocked.  For a week she kept to the cabin
doing nothing more strenuous than patching cracks in the walls.  She had
ignored them before but with the approach of winter and her baby, it was
something that needed to be done.

   The big day was clear but quite cold and she struggled to keep the cabin
warm.  She felt the first pain as she bent over to stoke the fire.  She sat
on her straw-filled bed, hands over her belly, waiting.  It was a full hour
before she felt the pain again.  It made sweat bead on her upper lip.

   The next thirty hours were hell.

   The birth turned into a battle of enormous forces.  It was reminiscent
of her fight to remove her virginity though on an infinitely greater scale.
The enormous strength of her body fought against its phenomenal resilience.
Jenny's birth canal was every bit as smooth and pink as any other woman's
but it resisted stretching as if made of steel.  On the other hand, the
freakish girl was fully capable of bending and stretching that metal.

   Jenny experienced many long bouts of panicked fear as she was certain
her struggle must harm her baby.  Indeed, the pressures she was being
forced to exert would have crushed brick.  But Jenny's baby was made of
stronger stuff.

   The sun had fallen and risen again before the battle ended.  It ended
not with a final titanic effort but with hours of unrelenting force.  The
bed was torn apart, its frame turned to splinters early in the ordeal. 
Jenny had sweated literal buckets, constantly refreshing herself from the
casks of water she had stockpiled.

   Finally, the baby was free of its prison.  Jenny was beside herself with
grief for nearly an hour when she saw the red, misshapen seeming mass.  She
had never attended a birthing and didn't know that babies usually looked
like that.  But, the baby had begun to breathe on its own and was soon
wailing.  Jenny examined and cleaned the infant.  It was a boy and less
misshapen than she had thought.  Indeed, as its color improved and its tiny
limbs waved weakly about, it began to look human.

   Actually, he was beautiful.  Despite the scrunched-up face.

   She named him Stanley.







   The mountainous region around Ironcleft was known for mild but wet
winters.  As snow piled up outside her cabin, Jenny Stram learned to be a
mother.  Her modest breasts produced milk at a frantic rate to keep up with
Stanley's needs.  Jenny herself was eating more than she anticipated.  She
had enough corn and coarsely-ground wheat to last two or three winters but
her craving for protein had driven her to consume all the dried meat
quickly.  They also went through firewood at a fantastic rate trying to
keep the drafty cabin warm.

   The nearby stream kept Jenny supplied with water.  Daily she would
bundle up in her rabbit-fur coat and trudge down the snowy path with two
large casks.  It had been many years since she owned a pair of shoes and
she had brought none on her exodus.  Most mornings she would have to kick a
hole in the thin layer of ice covering the Ironbrook to reach the
swiftly-flowing water beneath.  She certainly felt the cold but suffered no
ill effects.

   The filled casks weighed nearly a hundred pounds each but by the time
she had them filled, her feet were stinging with the cold and she usually
rushed back to the cabin with powerful leaping strides that seemed to
ignore their weight.  She lost a lot of water that way but there was always
enough to see her through to the next day.

   A month after Stanley's birth, his mother's craving for fresh meat
became overpowering.  She remembered from her childhood that the rabbits
and other small creatures of the area remained active through the winter on
all but the very coldest days.  She lay awake one night debating whether to
leave Stanley alone in the cabin while she went out to hunt or to take him
with her.  Neither option seemed very good.  In the end, she decided that
by taking him with her she would know how he was doing at all times.  She'd
just have to be careful to keep him warm and not do something stupid that
might crush him under her body or twist one of his little limbs.  She had
learned that her son was a tuff little guy but she had no intention of
putting him to any kind of test.

   The next day Jenny waited until the sun had warmed a bit before
venturing out.  She placed the infant in the fur pack she had made and
strapped it securely to her naked chest and stomach.  Then she wrapped her
own coat around both of them.  Her son was completely encased in fur and
pressed against her warm body.  If she stood quietly, she could feel his
steady breathing and what she thought was the beating of his heart...  but
that might have been her own.

   She grabbed a sack of throwing stones and stepped out into the blinding
day.

   The snow was two feet deep in most places but she encountered sunken
drifts that were probably over her head.  She picked a direction and
shuffled her way into the countryside, one hand pressed protectively
against her precious cargo.

   She was approaching a stand of trees when she finally saw some rabbit
tracks.  The trees appeared to act as a wind-break and the snow was only a
couple inches deep.  The local herbivores had been feeding here.

   Jenny kept expecting to get tired of rabbit meat but just the sight of
those tracks made her mouth water.  Thinking herself clever, she remained
downwind from the little clearing and crouched down low in the snow about
fifty feet away.  She fished out a stone and held it loosely in her right
hand.  Then, she waited.

   Jenny's feet became very cold.  She could feel the warmth of her body
being drawn down into the ground through the slush that had formed around
them.  She tried to put the discomfort out of her mind.

   Jenny reckoned an hour passed without any sign of life.  The sun was
high in the sky but gave little warmth.  She began to shiver.  Stanley had
begun to fuss quietly; she knew he was hungry and perhaps cold.  But she
couldn't bring herself to abandon the idea of fresh meet for dinner.

   Another half hour passed.  Though she could not see them, Jenny's lips
had turned blue and she was shivering violently.  Stanley had gone quiet
but Jenny could still feel him breathing and when she snaked her hand in to
check on him, he was deliciously warm to the touch.  Her breasts ached with
a heavy load of milk and her feet had lost all feeling.

   That's when a furry brown shape darted across the clearing.

   Jenny sprang upright without thinking and her arm snapped.  The throw
was true, catching the hare on the rump and sending it tumbling.  The
impact was so violent that the animal's spine snapped.

   Jenny rushed forward, another stone in her hand.  She scanned the
clearing but there was no other life.  The hare was still alive, struggling
to right itself with its fore-legs and fight the weight of its deadened
hind quarters.  Jenny picked the rabbit up and twisted its neck.

   Then she started cussing.  She was nearly numb with cold and barely able
to control her shivering body and all she had to show for it was one lousy
hare.  She hadn't thought things through at all.  No more prey would be
venturing into this clearing any time soon.  And there was no way she was
going to start over again someplace else...  her body just couldn't take
it.

   So, stumbling on numb feet, Jenny headed home.  Stanley was ravenous by
the time she got to the cabin and built up the fire.  He drained her
breasts in record time and wailed for more.  But she let him fuss while she
cooked and ate the hare.

   She'd have to find a better way.

   The next day she woke with a new determination.  She had been a fool to
waste time lying in wait for hours.  Her strengths were better suited to a
more aggressive approach.

   She fed her son and wrapped him securely in blankets and the fur pack.
She used its straps to anchor him firmly to the center of her bed.  She
would leave him behind this time.  It was a risk but Jenny convinced
herself that he would be fine, even if she was gone for an entire day.

   Jenny had been largely inactive for nearly two months.  She decided to
find out if her body had recovered from the ordeal of pregnancy and child
birth.

   It was mid-morning when she was ready to depart.  Checking on Stanley a
final time, she stepped outside and shut the door firmly behind her.

   Clouds were beginning to form and the day looked like it would turn
overcast.  Jenny was naked, her brown skin a sharp contrast to the white
countryside.  She intended to move fast today.  Her coat would only get in
the way and she knew that if she kept moving, her body's own energy would
keep her warm.  The only thing she wore was a strap over her shoulder and
across her belly from which she hung her sack of stones and a knife.

   The girl's nipples were hard and pebbly in the cold morning air.  Her
breasts were loose and hanging, empty for the time being.

   Jenny took off running.  Her legs pumped through the snow effortlessly,
leaving a cloud of powder hanging in her wake.  The footing was unusual but
quickly Jenny got into the proper rhythm of digging her toes in deep and
thrusting forward powerfully with each stride.  She streaked towards the
small clearing she had hunted in the day before.  In her right hand she
gripped a stone and in her left, four or five more.

   She burst into the clearing so quickly, the three rabbits that had been
feeding there had very little time to react.  Skidding almost out of
control, she had no hope of coming to a stop but instead, struck in
passing. Her arm snapped once, the rock she threw exploding her target's
head like an over-ripe plum.  Grabbing another rock from her left hand,
Jenny let her body spin and flung another missile with blinding speed.  The
throw caught another furry form on a trailing leg, shattering bone and
whipping its body around viscously.

   Jenny's careening body tumbled into the snow-covered underbrush at the
edge of the clearing and she skidded to a stop curled up on her side. 
Loose branches and cascading snow covered her quickly.

   Jenny began laughing.  That had been fun.  One of the hare had gotten
away but she had bagged two in about as many seconds.  She extracted
herself from the bushes.  She was breathing normally, aside from the
laughter, and her skin was unmarred despite her rough encounter with the
foliage.  The snow she had picked up from her tumble melted quickly against
her hot skin.

   One rabbit was dead outright.  The other appeared to be in shock,
shivering in pain but unable to move.  She wrung its neck.  Finding a handy
branch, she hung her kill up where she could find it later.  Brushing her
bloody hands off in the snow, she picked a direction and bounded off across
the countryside.

   Over the next couple hours, Jenny covered over twenty miles.  Eight
times she had flushed prey and had bagged five of them.  She was in the
lowest parts of the Ironcleft valley now and was near the low ridge that
defined its northern border.  Jenny was fairly familiar with the area from
her summer ramblings.  She bounded up the side of the ridge, leaping up
small cliffs of twenty feet or more as she did so.

   She crested the ridge and looked out over the neighboring valley.  As
luck would have it, a small herd of deer were grazing nearby, pawing at the
snow to dig up fresh fodder.

   Jenny was just beginning to breathe hard from the morning exertions
though a good deal of that was due to her elation.  It felt so good to be
out and about.  Some small part of her could feel that she had lost a
little strength over the last few months but she was certain it would all
come back and she was definitely still stronger than she had been when
living in the Weak Lands.

   As Jenny Stram stood atop the ridge breathing deeply, her eyes were
repeatedly drawn to the deer.  On the one hand, their meat would hold
little of Ironcleft's essence.  On the other, they represented a lot of
meat.  Her eyes focused on a healthy buck with a wide spread of antlers.

   Eyes slit with intent and nostrils wide with excitement, Jenny plunged
down into the valley.  The herd was half a mile away but had noticed the
movement on the nearby ridgeline.  In their skittish tradition, they turned
as a group to flee the unknown disturbance.

   Jenny streaked across the flat land.  In passing and almost without
thought, she leapt a small stream, vaulting thirty feet from raised bank to
raises bank, clearing both the stream itself and its wider flood channel
and landing in stride.  Another time she vaulted a collection of boulders
left eons ago by retreating glaciers.  The obstruction was only twelve feet
high or so but trailed along for hundreds of feet in a snake like fashion.
She didn't want to detour around it so Jenny jumped over it with feet to
spare.

   She passed through the area the herd had been grazing in and tried to
get her bearings.  The fleeing animals were in sight.  She spotted the rack
she had singled out and directed herself in that direction.

   Now she poured on the speed.

   Jenny over-did it.  The buck was young and healthy and strong but Jenny
Stram was now just a completely different class of animal.  The deer's
powerful, leaping run would have left a wolf behind with ease but Jenny
came up on her prey so quickly it actually took her by surprise.  She lost
sight of him for a moment behind a small drift.  When she burst through it,
he was right there.  The animal turned in terror and the woman went
hurdling by, powerless to do anything but streak past.

   Jenny dug in her feet trying to stop or turn.  Predictably, her body
over balanced and she went down face first.

   Angry at herself, Jenny reacted quickly.  Instead of letting herself
tumble, she crouched down to all-fours and attempted to dig in.  Her hands
clawed furrows in the frozen earth.  Her momentum slowed quickly.  The
moment she came to a stop, she exploded upward again.

   The buck had turned away and was fleeing in a new direction.  Careful to
keep her speed in check, Jenny pursued him, gaining steadily.  The poor
beast attempted to turn and dodge but Jenny was under control now.  Each
time she planted a foot she was able to thrust in any direction she needed.

   It took a full five minutes for the girl to run him down in this careful
manner.  But, when she had drawn to within thirty feet or so of her prey,
he turned again and Jenny took her opportunity.  She planted both feet and
leapt to intercept him, arching high into the air and coming down more or
less on top of him.

   The buck was big, probably weighing about the same as Jenny.  The two of
them went down hard, the deer's legs collapsing under the impact.  It
bleated in terror.

   Jenny's body was laid crossways across the buck, her chest across his
back and her knees digging into the snow.  As he began to struggle, she
grabbed it by the antlers.  Jenny got her feet under herself and set them
squarely.  Setting her mouth grimly, she heaved and twisted.

   Jenny put all her strength into the maneuver.  As a consequence, the
buck's entire body was whipped into the air, swinging high over head. 
Jenny twisted again mid-swing and slammed the body back into the snow.

   The buck's neck was very thoroughly broken, its head twisted nearly 360
degrees.

   A little shaken by her own violent action, Jenny suddenly very much
wanted to be back at home with her baby.  The chase had been exhilarating
and while it had not tired her much, it had taken something emotional out
of her.

   She slit the buck's neck deeply.  She would let it drain on the journey
back.  She would end up covered in blood but it would wash off.  The cold
dip in the stream that was in her future would be suitable penance for what
she had done.

   She slung the beast across her shoulders.  Its weight was negligible for
her.  She entwined one arm through its antlers and used them to hold its
head tightly to her shoulder.  Its protruding tongue hung near her breast
in a mildly disturbing manner but Jenny wouldn't let herself think about
it. Her other hand gripped its hind legs near the hooves and held that end
down tightly to her body.

   She wouldn't go over the ridge this time.  A detour of some ten miles...
five out to the edge of the ridge and then five back up through
Ironcleft... should take her about half an hour at what she considered an
easy lope.

   Jenny covered ground quickly, the deer's body held tightly across her
shoulders to minimize imbalance.  It was some forty minutes later that she
came upon the first of the rabbits she had left behind earlier.  From there
she retraced her steps, picking up the rest of the day's haul as she went.

   By the time she returned home it was a little after noon.  She was
anxious to check on Stanley but was covered in blood and needed to wash
off. Conflicted, she decided to just roll around in some fresh snow to get
the worst of the gore off.  She did so and it worked to an extent.  She
stood in front of the cabin's door for a moment, collecting her thoughts.
Steam was rising from her body as red and pink and white show melted
quickly.

   She just stepped inside for a moment to stoke the fire and look to see
that her son was where she had left him and still breathing.  Then she went
down to the stream.

   She stepped into the frigid water, breaking through the thin film of
ice. The cold absolutely stung.  She waded in deeper, breaking up more of
the delicate ice as she did.

   The stream was not deep and it only came up to her navel at its center.
She plunged herself under, running her hands through her ragged hair and
staying under until her lungs burned and her head throbbed from the cold.

   She surfaced, staying low so that the water lapped along her neck. 
Underneath, she scrubbed her body with her hands, washing away the grime.

   Jenny purposely stayed in the stream until her extremities were numb and
her teeth began to chatter.  When she immerged from the stream, she was
clean and very very cold.  She had brought nothing to dry herself with and
the cabin would only be moderately warm.  But she had already set her mind
on a better way to dry and warm herself.

   Jenny ran.  She set off on a quick ten mile circuit in a wide circle
around her cabin.  Needing the warmth of exertion, Jenny pushed herself and
managed the distance in a little under twenty minutes.  When she was done
she was dry, clean and breathing naturally.  She was also warm.  Over the
course of her expedition, her breasts had been producing milk and she now
felt the pressure there.  She would feed her son and then dress the
animals....

   Shit, she'd probably need another bath after that.







   For the rest of the winter, Jenny split her time between caring for her
baby, hunting and collecting firewood.  She needed to minimize her time
away from Stanley and she turned her outdoor activities into a challenge
for herself.  Every couple days she ran a fast circuit of the valley,
hunting on the run.  She could cover a twenty-mile loop in well under an
hour.

   About once a week, she visited the stand of trees about half a mile from
the cabin.  Not wanting to spend hours away from home chopping and hauling
wood, she would quickly chop down a large tree.  She'd select a hefty
specimen of about two feet in diameter.  Of course, not even Jenny Stram
was able to cut through a tree with a single blow.  She used a barrage of
fast, powerful strokes to bring a tree down in under a minute.  She'd
attack the fallen tree with a hatchet in each hand, stripping its branches
in a flurry of flying wood.

   The next step was something she couldn't do without winter's white
blanket.  She looped a rope around the enormous log and shouldered the
other end.  The tree would usually weight four or five thousand pounds. 
Across fields covered in snow, she could haul the enormous load without
difficulty.  In warmer months, every hillock and furrow would be a
miniature wall she'd have to get the load over.  Jenny was strong enough to
force the log through eventually but the snow made the job easy.

   Once she got the log to the yard in front of the cabin, she could chop
it into firewood within earshot of her boy.

   That winter surrendered slowly.  As green shoots finally began showing
through the white, Jenny tried to plan out her future.  She thought about
cultivating some of the fields in the area but decided she could continue
living off the struggling, half-wild crops for another year or two.

   Around the time spring got a firm grip on the valley, Stanley began to
teethe.  For a variety of reasons, this is an unpleasant time in a baby's
development.  It is an irritation for the child and mother both since the
little suckers had a tendency to bite the teat that feeds them.  But it had
an additional effect on Jennifer.

   For the first time since leaving the Weak Lands, Jenny was feeling
sexually aroused.  As she fed her growing son she would often find herself
teasing her furry beaver.  Each tug and nip at her tit seemed to pull at
something delightful in her core.  Her mind turned once again to thoughts
of men and fertility.

   She had always felt that one child would only be the start of her brood.
Now she was becoming eager to start the process again.

   It was nearly summer before her libido forced her to make a decision. 
She would have to leave the valley for a time to find men to impregnate
her. Stanley would have to go with her.  The boy was strong and healthy but
still less than a year old.  He was eating a little corn mush now along
with his mother's milk.

   She disliked the idea of feeding her son Weak Land food and water but
saw no choice.  She did not want to burden herself with a large pack.

   Jennifer's attempts to plan her sexual excursion led her to realize that
she would have nothing to trade and no way to make money.  So, ever
practical, she decided well ahead of time what she would simply steal
whatever she needed.

   Before leaving the Weak Lands, Jennifer's clothing had been on the tight
and short side.  She'd been living on the periphery of society for several
years with little need to dress well and had grown substantially during
that time.  She'd had worn nothing other than her rabbit-skin coat, if
that, since returning to Ironcleft and had filled out quite a bit during
that time.  She had only added an inch to her height but her shoulders and
hips had broadened considerably and her chest had filled out quite a bit
(though it seemed she would never be buxom).

   One dress she tore to shreds just trying to pull it on.  Another ripped
across the back the first time she bent over.  Those had been the largest
of her handful of dresses.  She effectively had no clothing.  Jenny also
realized that anything she might be able to steal from some homesteader
would be far too small for her.  Perhaps men's clothing would work but she
hated to think of herself as remotely masculine.  She saw herself as
motherly and sexy despite the rough and simple life she chose.

   Jenny didn't really care how many people saw her naked body but she
didn't want to be lynched...  or to have to hurt anyone that tried to lynch
her.  She couldn't just wander into a village and strike up a conversation
while naked.  She had enough trouble talking to people under the best
circumstances.

   She thought about finding a remote farm somewhere and asking the lady of
the house to help her piece together some clothing but it felt like too
much of a bother.  She didn't really want clothes and felt niggling
resentment that such a thing was expected.

   Well, all she was really interested in was spending a few weeks among a
number of men so that she could become pregnant again.  You didn't need
villages full of families and judgmental busybodies to get that.  There
were logging camps and small mining operations scattered all over the place
and they were usually peopled exclusively by men.

   So it was simple.  She would seek out these places and just present
herself to be serviced.  From experience, she knew that fewer than one man
in ten would be inclined to refuse such an offer.

   Jenny did take some time to carefully trim all her nails and do
something about her ragged hair before leaving her home to hunt semen.  She
packed a few days worth of dried meat and bread, tied Stanley into his
papoose across her chest and stomach and headed out of the valley.

   The young woman desperately wanted to run but feared jostling Stanley so
much.  She was proud of her son and was certain that he shared her strength
and resilience...  but he was only about nine months old and it was hard to
tell how careful she had to be with him.  He had fallen from the bed a
number of times and twice she had woken up to find that he had been trapped
beneath her hard, dense body.  He had suffered no injury nor displayed much
distress in any of these cases.

   Once Jenny rolled over onto him while sleeping and had apparently cut
off his air supply.  That time he struggled so powerfully that she had
woken immediately.

   But none of that necessarily meant he could take hours of being pounded
against her body as she loped across the landscape.

   It took her a full day to exit the valley; the pace felt torturously
slow.  Once out of the valley, Jenny headed in the opposite direction of
the people she knew.  She had no desire to see anyone from her old life.

   She fed Stanley and herself on the march and never stopped before the
sun was down.  She was moving again by dawn each morning.  She son would
fuss on occasion and she would sometimes carry him in her arms out in the
open so that he could see the world passing by but for the most part, he
seemed unconcerned by the journey.

   It was an aggravating three full days before she spotted the thin trail
of smoke that always meant humans were about.  She approached the site
carefully and found it to be a lone homestead.  She considered it for
several minutes while Stanley suckled from her left breast.  His sucking
action and the prospect of male companionship set her loins to throbbing
but the girl reluctantly passed the farm by.  Some ugly scene was far too
likely if she showed up in a woman's home like this.

   To say that Jennifer was socially awkward is an understatement.  She
wasn't terribly bright either and there was a lot about the world and
people that she didn't know.  But she had gleaned one lesson from her time
acting as a whore; groups of men isolated from "proper civilization" acted
a lot differently than a man alone or groups of men in socially accepted
venues.  Or to put it another way, men were more likely to "misbehave" as a
group...  as long as no judgmental types (women for the most part) were in
attendance.

   So, the girl was pretty confident that if she could find a group of guys
out on their own somewhere, there wouldn't be any ugly scenes nor a need
for much talk.  She'd let them know what she wanted and they'd line up to
give it to her.

   And that's pretty much how it went.  She found a logging party near the
end of the day.  It was made up of eight men from a number of different
places that had pooled their labor for a few days to bring in some lumber.
There were no women there.  The youngest guy was probably thirteen.

   The men were widely scattered performing a wide variety of tasks but all
were within earshot of the exclamations made by the first few to see her
come walking into camp.

   Jennifer entered that camp with Stanley on her hip.  She let her dark
hair drape across her chest but her breasts protruded between the strands.
At the moment they were softer than usual because her son had just finished
draining them.  That had also once again ignited Jennifer's urges.  She
stood in the middle of a beaten-earth clearing as the men approached.  Her
wide stance did nothing to conceal the pelt at her groin or the glimmer of
pink peering out from under it.

   The men were literally slack-jawed.  One began laughing nervously while
another called out loudly "Well would you look at that!"

   The men gathered but not closely for the moment.  Their hot gazes
couldn't help but sweep up and down her body and those gazes in turn warmed
her womanly fires.  "Hello fell'as.  Guess what I want?"

   Jennifer was momentarily surprised at her own voice.  It was deep and
rough.  It actually sounded kind of alluring but she abruptly realized that
she had not spoken for nearly a year.  Aside from some rare muttering from
his mother, Stanley had never heard human speech.  As the men began to grin
and joke she pledged to herself that she would begin speaking to her child
on a regular basis so that it could learn.

   But there would be time for that later.

   Trying to act alluring and confident, she raised a single finger to the
men now crowding around her, bidding them to stay and wait.  The young
woman took her son over to an out-of-the-way area under a tree and situated
him on top of his papoose.  She left her small pack with him and then
sauntered back towards the watching men.  She pulled her hair back behind
her neck.  Not an inch of skin was hidden from their view.

   Jennifer singled out the largest man there.  He may have been as old as
forty, hale but weathered.  He was thick-chested and balding with
strong-looking hands and a rough beard of several days' growth.  It was
dark but lightly peppered with silver.  Actually, that would be salted,
wouldn't it?

   He was the biggest guy there but was still two inches shorter than
Jenny. He was broader across the shoulders and his barrel chest was
impressive.  He looked like he probably out-weighed her trim form by quite
a bit.  In reality, her dense structure made up for his greater bulk.

   Several of the men's gazes became a little queer as her size registered
on them.  Who exactly was the naked, golden-brown goddess?

   She decided at that point that if anyone asked her age, she'd tell them
she was twenty or something.  Who knew how they'd react if she told them
she was barely fourteen.  It occurred to her that she had no idea what the
date was.  Was it July yet?

   Jenny smiled and caressed the big guy's shoulder.  "My name is Jenny."

   He swallowed twice before responding.  "I'm Sam.  Uh...  pleasure to
meet you Jenny."

   Jenny grinned, trying desperately to be personable and sexy.  "Oh, I
think it will be." She let her eyes scan the faces around her.  Her
caressing hand took Sam's and guided it to cup her soft mammary.  "I hope
to pleasure you all."

   She asked for a comfortable place to lie down and casually asked Sam to
join her.  There were a lot of nervous laughs and blushing going on among
the spectators but the woman persuaded Sam out of his cloths in a few brief
minutes.  His cock was big and hard and exactly what Jennifer needed.

   She bit her lip and looked a little nervous as she began to mount him.
The spectators mistook this expression for hesitancy.  What Jenny was
really doing was telling herself over and over again to be gentle and
fighting against her urge to ravage the man.

   It would be so easy to severely injure the poor guy.

   Sam didn't last long.  Jennifer's hungry slit was incredibly tight and
wet.  He just stared at her bouncing breasts as she rode up on down his
shaft.  Within minutes, he grunted and moaned as he pumped his seed into
her body.

   The sensation of his seed flushing warmly into her womb triggered
Jennifer's orgasm.  She squealed and ground herself down on his pumping
shaft.  Sam's eye's nearly popped out of his head when her climaxing pussy
clamped down on his dick.

   When she had milked him dry, Jenny stood and looked at the men gather
around them.  Her nipples were hard and swayed joyously as she bounced
around with excitement.  "Who's next?" she asked, stroking a finger through
her plainly visible pussy lips.

   Several of the men raced to unlace their pants.  Laughing, Jenny
rewarded the winner by wrapping a large hand around his hard member and
kissing him deeply.  She let the man, who was in his mid twenties, lay her
down on her side and slip his cock into her from behind.  His member was
smaller than Sam's and he shot off even quicker.  She closed her eyes and
enjoyed the feeling of his jizz filling her.  She didn't cum again but she
knew she would soon with the next fellow or maybe the guy after that.

   Jenny fucked each man in rapid succession, allowing them to position her
as they wished.  Several just pumped into her in the traditional missionary
position but others wanted something else.  A thirty year old man with a
cock that was even bigger than Sam's bent her over a log.  He rammed his
hips into her as hard as he could and clawed at her breasts.  Jennifer
loved it, yelling loudly for more.  She came hard just before he burst
inside her.  Her thighs had stripped the bark form the log but remained
unblemished.

   He paid for making it good for her with a severely bruised cock.

   The thirteen year old kid had watched it all from the periphery.  After
she had drained each man once, she looked for and found the boy.  Beckoning
to him, she lay back and spread her legs.  The boy eagerly pulled off his
britches and knelt between her steepled legs.

   The boy's little cock was a bit over four inches long and thin.  Jenny
still felt tight and hot to him.  He sank into her once up to the balls and
shuddered, spilling his seed.  Jenny pulled his body down to hers and laid
his head against her breasts.  She held one hand under his buttocks and
kept his groin pressed to hers.  Her hot cunt massaged his pink little rod.
She could feel his heartbeat through his throbbing organ.

   "Come on honey, give me another." She said.  He stayed hard.  Soon, the
boy was humping into her by reflex.  He was trembling with desire.  "What's
your name, little man?"

   "Colt" he said, his voice squeaking.

   She whispered into his ear but not so quietly that the other's couldn't
hear, "Your dick feels wonderful, Colt.  Do you know why men and women do
this?"

   Colt nodded, licking his lips.  "It's how you make a baby."

   Jenny kissed the crown of his head.  "That's right honey.  I want a baby
and you need to plant your seed in me to make it happen.  Come on little
man, give me more of your seed." She paused and then whispered very quietly
just to him.  "Fuck me."

   Colt's hips were a blur as he sawed into her.  In two minutes flat, he
shuddered again, groaning.  "Oh, thank you baby.  I feel your seed in me.
It's wonderful."

   Colt stayed on top of her and inside her for several more minutes,
panting heavily and thanking her profusely.  When he finally staggered
away, Jenny remained on her back and spread her legs wide.  "Well
gentleman, the young man is now one round ahead of you all.  Who's ready to
play catch-up?"

   And so it continued through the day and into the night as Jenny fucked
every man there three or four times.  She gauged the passage of time by the
swelling of her breasts and around sundown called a break so that she could
feed Stanley.  The men wandered away to straightened up the work they had
dropped hours earlier when the sex goddess appeared in their midst.

   After nursing her son and eating some of the camp's thick stew, Jenny
appropriated a tent and announced that she would be available to all comers
all night long.  She slept in short naps whenever no one was busy fucking
her and by morning, none of the men could achieve erection.  She suggested
they carry on with their work.  She would stay for a day or two and as they
recovered, she would continue to service the loggers.

   During the course of the day, three more men showed up having been busy
elsewhere.  Jenny was happy to expand her harem.

   While waiting for the men to recover, Jenny wandered the camp, usually
with Stanley in her arms.  She sometimes had to grit her teeth and force
herself to resist offering to help them in their labors.  She watched as
six men struggled to mount a large log over the saw pit.  Jennifer could
tell at a glance that she would have been able lift and position the log
with no trouble at all.  True, it was an awkward kind of load but she had
learned the tricks of balance and leverage needed to handle that kind of
thing when she was eleven years old.

   Hell, if she could figure out a good way to stack them, she could carry
three logs that size.  She'd had that much wood stacked in her old carrying
rig practically every day.

   On the second night, Jenny got quite a bit of sleep.  Few of the men had
been able to rise to the occasion.  They had each fucked her between four
and a dozen times.  So that morning, she slipped quietly out of camp with
Stanley without saying goodbye.

   Jenny had been drinking Weak Land water for several days and eating
mostly their food.  She felt the absence of Ironcleft's essence and it made
her jumpy with cravings.  When the time came to decide whether to turn
towards home or to carry on looking for another opportunity to mate, the
call of the valley won out.

   In the afternoon of the day she departed the logging camp, she did
happen upon a lone man hunting.  Without exchanging a word, Jenny set her
son aside and pulled the man down on top of here in the grass where they
stood.  Impatient with his fumbling, she gripped his trousers in her strong
hands and ripped them apart.  His cock was only about five inches long and
barely of average girth but two days of frequent sex had done nothing to
loosen Jenny tight snatch.  She wrapped her legs around him and pulled his
body into hers.  She milked him in about thirty seconds.  Then she gathered
up her things and left him gasping in the field.





   It began to rain that night.  Jenny's only shelter was a tree.  She
spent the night leaning against the trunk, huddled around her child.

   Before dawn was truly begun, she was so cold she simply had to get up
and move around.  It took several hours for her slow pace to begin to warm
her body.  It was still raining.  Water was beginning to fill every wash
and stream.

   It was still well before noon and Jenny's body was just beginning to
warm when something made her pause.  It took her a moment to identify what
was wrong.  She had heard something; a faint cry of some kind.  She
couldn't identify it but it seemed to be coming from the small river a few
hundred yards west of her.  She turned to investigate.

   The cries resolved themselves into a woman's pleas for help and the
sobbing of small children.  Emerging from the thick growth along the bank,
Jenny looked out across the river.  It was swollen with runoff and coursing
along high in its banks.  It was over forty feet across and appeared deep.
She cast her gaze upstream and identified the source of the pleas.

   The first thing to catch her eyes was the half-wrecked form of a wagon
partially submerged in the rushing water and pressed against a large
boulder.  A body was visible trapped between the cart and the rock.

   The woman calling for help was kneeling on another boulder a little ways
downstream from where the wagon-pinned a victim.  She was soaking wet and
there was blood on her face from a scalp wound.  In her arms was a bundle
she held fiercely to her chest.

   More sounds drew Jenny's eyes back to the wagon.  She hadn't seen it
before but a blond-haired head could be seen of the far side of the wagon.
There appeared to be a small child clinging to the wagon's submerged bed.

   Quickly, Jenny found a safe spot for her son well away from the river
and then raced along its bank, passing the woman who just then spotted her
and began screaming hysterically for help.  The powerful, naked woman
studied the situation.

   Jenny could not swim at all.  Of course, with the river's current as it
was, swimming would have been pretty much useless anyway.  She eyed the
river.  She figured if she absolutely had to and was without burden, she
could leap its forty feet given a running start but that wasn't going to do
any good.  If she tried to jump out to the wagon or the boulder it had
caught itself on...  well, there wasn't much chance she could land safely
on the boulder and she was likely to wrench the wagon free and send them
all tumbling downstream if she tried to land on it.

   She now saw that there were actually two children clinging to the wagon
bed and that the pinned victim was a man, probably their father.  He
appeared to be unconscious.

   Jenny looked around desperately for inspiration.  There were trees
lining the bank here.  One specimen had a trunk of a bit under two feet
across and was slanted slightly out over the water.  It was tall enough to
span the river if it was felled.

   But Jenny hadn't brought any of her logging tools.

   The woman was begging Jenny to go for help.  Jenny considered doing so
but she had no idea where she was likely to find anyone.  It could
literally take all day to find help.  Jenny Stram felt a mantle of
determination settle over her.  The situation might be hopeless for anyone
else but not for her.

   She strode over to the tree she had identified.  It was well positioned
just a little ways upstream from the stranded wagon.  She studied it for a
moment and then positioned herself inland from it.  She braced her right
shoulder against the trunk and wrapped her arms around it, locking her
hands together.  Kicking and scuffing at the earth, she set her feet
securely.

   She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  Then she heaved with all
her might.

   Bark splintered in her grasp and the tree's crown swayed.  Jenny's back
protested.  She let her breath gasp out and released the tree.  She shook
bark from her hands and brushed it off her shoulder.  She slapped at the
trunk several times to dislodge more of the tree's rough skin.  The girl
put her shoulder to the trunk again and embraced it.  She took a second to
visualize the children being swept downstream to drown and then heaved at
the tree again.

   The earth moved beneath her feet.  Jenny realized that she was actually
standing on the tree's roots.  She tried to think her way through the
problem but no alternatives came to mind.  She must either snap the tree's
trunk or force her feet to break through the roots beneath her so that she
could uproot it.

   Or she could fail.

   Jenny re-set her feet.  She crouched down a little lower and dug her
shoulder in.  She took three deep but quick breaths through her mouth and
then surged her body's power against the tree.

   The sound of tearing and cracking reverberated from the ground.  The
packed soil shifted beneath her feet.  A red haze filled Jenny's world as
she strained against the tree.  The young woman's physical size was unusual
but her immense strength was not usually immediately evident.  Her frame
was solid but did not swell with muscle.

   Now, tested as they never had been before, her muscles tightened but did
not bulge.  If anything, her curves flattened.  Granite-hard plains of raw
power spread across every part of her straining body.  Her smooth sleekness
disappeared beneath a relief-map of straining slabs of mutated muscle.

   Every cell in Jenny Stram's body burned.  She refused to give up.  The
tree had shifted.  She knew from the grinding movement beneath her that she
had damaged the tree's anchor.  Huffing, she paused for a split second to
re-seat her shoulder and then surged against the stubborn trunk again.

   Her back threatened to buckle but Jenny refused to let it.  Her
straining calves, sinews rising like iron bars beneath her skin, cramped
and shuddered but to her that didn't matter.  She demanded more of them. 
At that moment, she did not know what she was struggling to achieve.  She
did not know that lives hung in the balance.  She had set herself a task
and her body would complete it.

   With a series of cracks and a cascade of dirt, the roots began to rise
out of the earth and the tree slowly toppled over.  All around Jenny, root
and loam lifted from the ground.

   Jenny staggered away in relief, tearing through the rising tangle of
roots.  The tree seemed to fall in slow motion, slowly bowing to meet the
river.  Its top dozen feet crashed to the far bank.  The small mountain of
dirt and tendrils at its base bucked ten feet in the air as the beast
rebounded.

   Jenny couldn't believe she had done it.

   She nearly collapsed taking the first step towards the fallen tree as
her right leg cramped up painfully.  She gritted her teeth and hobbled to
the bank but then had to stop and try to massage her strained thigh muscle
back into working order.  When she tried to straighten, at first she
couldn't.  The muscles across her back were locked in painful spasms.

   Jenny gritted her teeth.  Hands clenched in painful fists, she forced
her body straight, willpower at war with the protests of her superhuman
muscles.  The strain showed in risen tendons and blood vessels.

   Will won out.

   Fighting back the shakes, Jenny realized that her hands, arms, shoulder
and even her chest were covered in bloody scrapes.

   Then she looked out into the river and abruptly remembered why toppling
the tree had been so important.

   Jenny stepped up onto her newly made bridge and crept out over the
river, ignoring the cacophony of protests from joints and muscles.  It was
just pain.  Her bare feet made solid contact with the damp bark giving her
secure footing.  She stepped around a few branches, using them as hand
holds.  As she got closer to the wagon, the branches became more numerous
and were getting in the way.

   She bent, grabbing one large branch with one hand and braced her other
three limbs against the trunk.  She wrenched at the branch, snapping it and
tearing it away from the tree.  The makeshift bridge bounced and swayed
with the jerking forces.  She did this four more times as she got closer to
the wagon, clearing a path.

   The children were watching her with wide eyes.  It was only at that
point that it occurred to Jenny how she must look; a large naked woman that
had just ripped a good sized tree out of the ground and was now bloody and
clawing her way towards them.  She hoped the kids wouldn't be too
frightened to help her save them.

   When she drew even with the wagon, she examined the situation.  There
were about eight feet between the trunk and the bed of the cart.  Numerous
branches stretched between the two.  Jenny saw that she had been very lucky
that no large branches had impacted the stricken cart.

   Jennifer jumped lightly across to the wagon, splashing down into the
sharply angled bed as lightly as she could.

   The children were a boy of perhaps six and his little sister who was no
older than four.  The boy had pressed his sister high into a dry corner and
was clinging to the wagon around her.  "Come here little ones, let's get
you out of here." Jenny said.

   The boy had cried himself dry.  His lips were blue and his teeth
chattered.  "Our daddy's under the wagon.  He's asleep and won't wake up."

   "I know dear.  I'll help him soon but he'd want me to make sure you are
safe." Jennifer sidled closer to the children, stepping carefully along the
cart's submerged structure.  She extended her free arm in a welcoming
gesture.  "Bring your sister over here and I'll take you to shore."

   The boy griped his sister's upper arm and pushed off towards Jennifer.
They dipped beneath the churning surface of the water.  Jenny snatched at
his shirt and caught them.  Gently and awkwardly, she worked both the
children in towards her body.  She managed to get her arm under both of
their arms and hug them like a single bundle.  The boy put his arms around
her neck.  The whimpering, shivering little girl was jammed against Jenny's
shoulder with nothing to hold onto.  Her little hands scratched and grasped
at Jenny's tit looking for a hand-hold.

   Jenny had to concentrate to keep herself from crushing the children. 
She also was fighting for balance against the current and the sloping
surfaces of the wagon.  Gathering her legs beneath her, she jumped lightly
back towards the fallen tree.  Her feet landed squarely and her free hand
steadied her on one of the remaining branches.  "See," she said.  "No
problem."

   Jenny moved quickly back toward the bank with her burden.  Once on dry
land (if the soggy bank could be called such) she paused to examine the
children for injuries.  Aside from being extremely cold and now smeared
with patches of her blood, they seemed fine.  The boy couldn't take his
eyes off the wreckage of the wagon.  "Why is daddy still sleeping?"

   Jenny didn't want to think about it and she wanted the children thinking
about it even less.  "I don't know, we'll find out soon.  But look over
there.  Is that your mommy?" she asked, pointing downstream at the woman
crouching on her rock.

   The girl finally spoke.  "Mommy!"

   Jenny carried the children to the place she'd left Stanley.  She was
realizing more and more how extremely foolish she had been to bring no
blankets or anything.  The baby seemed content in his papoose for now but
Jenny was feeling guilty.

   She told the children to stay with her baby while she went to get their
mommy.  Both children collapsed to the earth without protest, exhausted by
their ordeal.

   Jenny trotted back to the bank, her leg finally beginning to loosen from
its cramp.  Her back...  there was something wrong with her back but it
wouldn't stop her from doing what needed doing.  There were no handy trees
in the vicinity of the mother.  Her rock was a bit closer to the bank being
only about fifteen feet out.  There was no room on the rock however as the
woman occupied its entire small surface.

   Seeing no better alternative, Jenny aimed for open water a few feet
upstream from the rock and jumped.  She plunged to the bottom of the
rushing river while being grabbed by the powerful embrace of the current.
Before she knew what was happening, her hip and then her shoulder hit the
rock hard.  The current's path drug her around the rock, her arms twisting
to find a grip but failing.  The river carried her downstream.

   Jennifer bounced along the rocky bottom of the stream.  She was
completely disoriented.  She couldn't figure out which way was up for long
enough to do anything about it.  For a long minute she remained under
water, lungs burning and her body being beaten against the stream-bed and
carried away from her child and the family in distress.

   Then her body slammed into a large boulder stomach-first.  For a moment
the current pressed her there and she had the presence of mind to wrap
herself around the obstruction and hang on.

   The boulder she had hit was completely submerged.  She managed to work
out which was up.  She braced her legs against the rock's upstream edge and
tried to raise her head above water.  She just managed to break the
surface, gulping in air between waves.  She thought she saw more rocks
sticking out of the water a little farther along.  She tried to raise
herself up higher for a better look and lost her purchase.  The river swept
her away again.

   Her underwater journey was much quicker this time.  The last thing she
had done as she lost her footing was to make sure she faced her body
downstream.  She kept her arms out in front of her as if to catch herself
in a fall.  She tried to keep her feet under her, bouncing herself along
the bottom.

   She couldn't see anything and when her hands crashed into another
obstruction, she was unable to prevent the rest of her body from doing the
same thing.  The impact forced her to take a breath and water filled her
lungs.  The impact would have shattered the arms and chest of anyone else.

   She tried to wrap her arms around the rock she had hit.  Something was
wrong with one of her hands.  It was like some kind of nightmare.  But
Jenny Stram hauled herself out of the stream and onto the boulder.  She
spent several minutes hacking up water.  Her left hand was throbbing.  She
stared at it.  It had taken the brunt of the impact, first slamming into
the boulder and then being smashed by the rest of her careening body. 
Already her ring finger was swelling and her pinky was the wrong shape. 
Dully he realized that those fingers were broken.

   She knew the pain would begin soon but that didn't matter.

   Besides, the cold water had soothed her many scrapes.

   Kneeling on her rock, Jenny tried to get her bearings.  She looked
upstream and could see the woman and the wagon.  She was surprised at how
close they were...  she felt like she had been dragged along the river
bottom for miles.

   Her rock was only about ten feet from the bank.  Dragging herself to her
feet, she jumped to the shore and began walking back up stream.  Her hand
hurt.  She tried moving her broken fingers and that hurt a lot more. 
Grimly, she tried to straighten her pinky.  Heat flashed across her face
and she felt faint.  My god that hurt.

   Jenny Stram was now angry at the river.  She never let anything get the
best of her.  When she reached her original jumping-off point, she didn't
pause for even a second.  She took two running steps and jumped back into
the water in the same place she had before.

   She kept her injured hand held close across her chest and angled her
body to first strike the rock with that shoulder.  As she hit, her good
hand snapped around and gripped the stone, her finger's finding purchase on
its rough texture.  She used that iron grip to hold herself steady against
the current while her toes found similar holds and she climbed out of the
water.

   She was eye to eye with the woman.  She seemed to be in shock now as her
gaze was glassy and she didn't speak.  Jenny spared a glance for the bundle
she still held.  Presumably there was a baby in there but it was not
visible beneath the swaddling.  Trying to sound friendly, Jenny said "Don't
worry, I'll get you out of here."

   There was little room on the boulder.  Jenny got one foot up onto it and
then lifted the woman carefully onto her shoulder.  Jenny rose and got her
feet under her and shifted the woman into a comfortable two-armed carry
with her bundle resting safely atop her.  She faced the bank and flexed her
knees.  "Here we go" she said.  Putting as much spring as she could into
her arms, she jumped out over the stream.  She landed high on the bank,
trying to absorb the landing with her legs.

   Jenny moved to put the woman on her feet.  She wobbled horribly.  Jenny
lifted her back up and carried her to where the children were bundled
together.  As Jenny lay her down there the woman finally found her voice.
"Is my husband...?"

   Jenny grimaced.  "I don't know yet.  I'm about to find out."

   The woman seemed to slowly be regaining her thoughts.  "You've hurt your
hand." She said.

   Jenny just nodded.  "Yes.  We'll worry about it later." And then went
back to the fallen tree.

   Jenny quickly made it to the wagon and then climbed over it to crouch
down on the large boulder it had come up against.

   The man didn't look very old, probably not yet thirty.  A nasty gash on
his head had bled heavily but was now scabbed over.  Jenny bent closely but
the sounds of the river made it impossible to tell if he was breathing.

   The girl studied the situation.  While the wagon was pressed tightly
against the man's trapped body, most of the actual weight seemed to be
supported by the axles and frame so that he was held in place without being
crushed.  Unless of course he was crushed; Jenny just didn't know yet.

   Jenny lay on her belly and pulled on the back of the guy's shirt.  Then
she saw that he was wearing suspenders.  She felt behind his body and found
them.  She gather them both up into her grip and attempted to lift his
body. Even laying prone with one extended arm, Jenny should have no trouble
lifting the man's weight.  His body shifted but the rock and the wagon held
him in place.  If she tried to force it, she would probably kill him and
certainly injure him seriously.  Also, her back was threatening to seize up
again...  the cold water had felt good on her wounds but was hell on the
aching muscles.

   Standing again, she thought for a few moments and then straddled her
legs between the boulder and the wagon.  She found good footing on the rock
side and braced her other foot against the edge of the wagon.  She bent
down low to grab the man's suspenders again, gritting her teeth against her
back's protests.  He was well below the level her feet were at now and the
reach was awkward to say the least.  If he had been conscious, he would
have been treated to the sight of Jen's straining thighs framing a vagina
that was soaking wet and pulled open wide.

   He probably would not have actually been aroused given the situation.

   She would have liked to use both hands to help control things but her
injured hand just refused to provide a decent hold.  The pain was bad
enough but it also masked any other feeling and she just couldn't trust
that hand's grip.

   She finally got both belts of the suspenders in her good right hand. 
Now to open things up.

   Jenny began pushing against the cart.  The thick tendons in her thighs
tightened.  Jenny heaved with her legs, trying to open the gap so she could
lift the man out.

   The weight of the wagon alone would have been no challenge but the force
of the current pressing against it was another story.  It took her four
tries, each time she tried to set her leverage at a different angle.  She
considered the other method of putting her feet on the rock and her hands
on the wagon...  she could exert a lot more force that way but wouldn't be
able to hold on to the man.

   On the fourth try she set herself low, allowing the knees to bend a bit.
Then she actually lifted her foot off the wagon for a moment.  She came
back down on it hard, slamming into it and pressing with all her might.

   The wagon shuddered at the first impact and then moved inexorably.  It
only took about two inches of travel before the man's body began to slide
down farther into the gap.  Jenny jerked him out using the power of her arm
to lift him clear and above her head while maintain pressure with her legs.

   Her back didn't have to like it, it would do what she required of it.

   She swept her left arm under his body and held him against her chest. 
He was of medium height and built.  She let the wagon push her back and
swung her foot down to the boulder.  The wagon settled back into place,
apparently to right where it had started.

   Jenny had misjudged slightly and was off balance.  There was little room
on the boulder to help her.  As she began to fall forward, she hopped up
onto the edge of the wagon.  Balancing there would be impossible but she
had enough time to gather herself again and jump the ten feet or so to the
fallen tree.  She aimed for a cluster of branches.  She landed squarely
with her feet on the trunk and let herself fall forward softly into the
branches there.  She rebounded and found her balance long enough the shift
the man to one shoulder, freeing her right hand.  This put her injured left
hand on the man's back but it was suitable for just keeping him in place.

   Now able to grab branches to steady herself, Jenny made it to shore
quickly.

   Jenny was faintly surprised to find the woman waiting for her on the
bank near the fallen tree.  Jenny lowered the man from her shoulder and
gently laid him out on the wet grass.  Without a word, the woman bent over
him, listening for his breath.  "He's alive!" she said, her voice rough
with suppressed sobs.  "Oh thank the Father, he's alive."

   The woman took her husband's head in her hands and tried to revive him.
Jenny went to check on Stanley.  He was asleep in the papoose.  The young
girl was asleep as well, her head nestled in her brother's lap.  His eyes
were wide and he shivered with cold.  "Did my daddy wake up?" he asked.

   Jennifer picked up her son and looked down at his sleeping face.  His
soft, round features showed nothing of the strength she knew was within. 
Something about the day's events had brought home to her the meaning of
family.

   "No, he is still asleep I think.  He may be badly hurt.  I do not know.
Your mother is with him." The boy was silent in response.  He was
experiencing several kinds of shock but Jenny had no idea how to help him.

   She stood in silence over the brother and sister with Stanley in her
arms and rain cascading over them for many long minutes.  She turned when
she heard the woman approach.

   "My name is Agnes.  Agnes Wilson." She said.

   "I am Jenny."

   Agnes was starring at her with many confused emotions pent up behind her
fatigued face.  Where did one even start?  Concern about her husband, shock
at the appearance of the naked woman and wonder at what she had done...  it
was just all too much to take in.  Survival instinct asserted itself and
she settled on practical questions.  "Thank you for your help.  My husband
has not woken and the children are freezing.  Do you have any blankets?  Or
clothing?  Or food?"

   Jenny both shook her head and shrugged.  She bent down for her small
pack as she answered.  "I have only a little food." She set her son aside
and presented some pieces of hard bred to the boy and his mother.

   Agnes took the bread but only held it in front of her in uncertainty. 
"We lost everything.  Our entire lives were in the wagon and it's all
washed away."

   Jenny cast her gaze down-stream.  "Perhaps we can find some of it." She
suggested.  Before the woman could respond, Jenny asked her, "Will you look
after my baby for a bit?"

   Brought up short, the piece of bread still clutched before her, Mrs. 
Wilson nodded blankly.

   Holding her injured hand against her side, Jenny loped away down the
bank, eyes scanning the river.  She paid special attention to the rocks
where debris might catch and collect.

   It felt good to be moving, driving the chill from her body.  She was
just out of sight of the stranded wagon when she came upon a burlap sack
wedged amongst some boulders.  She recovered it and left it on the bank as
she continued downstream.  She found one small crate soon after.  Following
that she found nothing more.  She must have covered two miles at a bounding
jog but there was no other sign of the family's goods.

   She moved more quickly returning upstream, scooping up the crate and
sack as she went.  Agnes had moved all the children near her husband.  She
was breast-feeding her youngest while her oldest sat with his father's hand
in his.  The daughter was gnawing on a piece of bread, leaning in against
her mother.

   Stanley rested against her hip and gazed about with newly wakened eyes.

   "This was all I could find." Jenny declared as she dropped down amongst
the little group.  Without waiting for permission, she untied the sack to
discover its contents.  It held a motley collection of clothing and a few
small blankets.  Everything was soaked, wadded mess.  Jenny places the bag
in front of Agnes and moved on to the crate.  This time she did pause and
gave the other woman a questioning look.  "I think that's a cook pot and
some plates." She said.

   Jenny's hard fingers pried the nailed lid off.  Indeed, within the crate
sat an iron pot and inside that were wads of straw and some clay plates. 
Jenny set the crate in front of her.  Her attention was drawn to her
injured hand.

   Two fingers were badly swollen, the pinky still visibly misshapen.  She
had not been unaware of the pain but seeing her hand now gave it new
urgency.  She tried to spread her finger's out across the crate's lid.  She
had to grit her teeth against the pain.

   Agnes covered her bosom and told her son to sit with the baby.  "Let me
see if I can help you with that." She said.  She shook out the contents of
the sack and found her apron.  "Do you have a knife?" she asked.

   Jenny nudged her pack towards the woman.  Her knife and sheath hung from
its strap.  Agnes took it and cut away one of the apron's ties.  "I think
if you sit with the board in your lap and spread your hand out across it as
best you can, I can give it a good look."

   Jenny did as instructed.  Her mangled hand protested mightily.

   Agnes looked it over closely.  "It looks like your middle finger is
fine." She said.  She probed it while looking up at Jenny.

   "Yes.  It doesn't hurt."

   "We need to splint these other two.  Wait here." She went off to find
suitable sticks.  As she returned, Jenny watched her as she paused near the
bank, staring at the wrecked wagon in the middle of the river.  She crossed
herself...  if she said anything, Jenny could not hear.

   Agnes sat back down in front of Jennifer.  "We need to straighten the
small finger.  It will hurt a great deal." Jenny just nodded.

   Agnes had set bones before.  She had been taught that gentle prodding
was simply no good; a badly broken bone must be set with abrupt force and
determination.

   Jennifer's hands were as large as any man's and her fingers long.  Agnes
wrapped her hand around the entire pinky and without warning, yanked on it.

   The crate lid caved in with a snap as Jenny tensed up, fighting the
pain. Agnes froze.  She had almost allowed herself to forget this strange
woman's strength.  Seeing that no further violent movements were
forthcoming, she released the finger and examined it.

   It looked much better...  badly swollen but without the disturbing
angle. She moved to place sticks along the two fingers as splints.  "This
should hurt a little less." She said, trying to smile.  She lashed the two
injured fingers and their splints together with the apron strap.

   As she finished, Agnes forced herself to look Jennifer in the eyes.  "It
was very kind of you to help us.  And very brave."

   Jennifer pulled her hand back and lowered her head.  "What kind of
monster would turn away from people in need?" she asked.  Then she mumbled,
"I'm not a monster."

   "No, I can see that." Agnes replied.  Then for the first time she let
herself get a good luck at the strange woman with wild hair and fresh scabs
all over her front.  There were no obvious signs of the phenomenal strength
and resilience she had displayed but there was something very different
about her.  Her coloring was odd and she was so tall.

   And of course she had been out marching through the remote countryside
with a young baby and not a stitch of clothing.

   "Jennifer, no one could possibly think you a monster but...  can I ask
you something?"

   Jenny very much did not want to talk.  She moved away from Agnes,
reaching for Stanley in his papoose.  Agnes didn't want to let the woman go
without an explanation.  "Please, how were you able to do what you did? 
You tore the tree right out of the ground.  That's not possible."

   Jennifer held her son closely, avoiding eye contact with the other
woman. "I didn't really think I'd be able to do it." She said.

   "But you did.  How?  And why are you out here alone with a baby and...
and...  without clothes?"

   Jennifer really didn't want to talk about herself.  She wanted to flee.
But at the same time she resented that urge in herself and did not want to
give in to any kind of weakness.  Staying there with the woman and speaking
to her was every bit as hard as ripping that tree from the ground but
Jennifer forced herself to do it anyway.

   "I'm strong.  I'm really strong and I don't need anybody." She answered.

   Agnes was silent for a bit.  "How long have you been alone, dear?"

   Jennifer thought about telling the woman about her days of rutting among
the wood-cutters but thought better of it.  "Nearly a year.  I gave birth
to my son alone and have made a home for myself and I don't need anyone."

   Agnes raised her hands in a calming gesture.  "I can see that.  You baby
looks beautiful, Jenny."

   It was a great relief to the powerful young woman when Agnes was
interrupted at that moment by moaning sounds from her husband.  Agnes
rushed to his side and held his cheeks as she repeated his name over and
over again.

   Jennifer picked up her pack and slung Stanley across her chest.  She
moved away from the family quietly.  After putting some distance between
them, she waited.  She watched as the man slowly became aware of his
surroundings and began to speak horsy to his wife.  The little boy stood
over his parents watching with wide eyes as they cried in each other's
arms.

   As the man began to struggle to his feet, Jennifer Stram slipped away
and made a bee-line for her valley home.

   It was very late when Jennifer finally made it home.  She spared her son
a few minutes of care but was more physically weary than ever in her life
and soon collapsed into bed.

   Singing birds and bright sun woke her the next morning.  Her first
moment brought agony.  Her entire back was a gigantic knot of immovable
pain.  She was a cripple the entire day and then through the next as well,
sometimes crawling around the cabin, unable to straighten herself.  It was
a week before she was able to move normally and her back would continue to
pain her for months.

   In the year that followed her hand healed true but much more slowly than
a normal person's.  Jenny had no good sense of how long such things should
take but the truth was it took three or four times longer than for an
ordinary human.  Whether is was because she was careless with it or it had
something to do with her physiology would be only speculation at this point
in the story.

   When Jennifer missed two monthly courses following her adventure, she
thought for a time that she was pregnant again.  But then her period came
back, surprising her one day with a bloody mess.  She thought something was
wrong with her but nothing more came of it.

   Regretfully she concluded that her trip to the weak-lands had been in
vain.





   Time passed.  As is often the case, the days sometimes seemed long while
the seasons flew by.  Jennifer cared for her son and continued working to
make Ironcleft the perfect home.  Perfect by her crude standards at any
rate.

   Several times a year she would make visits to the lowlands to "get
seeded" as she began to describe it.  She failed to get pregnant for a
number of years and she was becoming worried.  Her menstrual cycle would
often be disrupted after one of these visits but after a month or two it
would return.

   In the spring and summer after Stanley turned two Jenny experimented in
the fields around her cabin, learning through trial and error how best to
prepare the soil and plant seeds.  There was a lot of error in the trial.

   Jenny found a number of plows and dozens of spades and hoes among the
abandoned homesteads.  As they were, the plows were of little use to her.
They were designed to be pulled through the ground by horses or oxen. 
Jenny could certainly out-pull an ox but without a person at the rear to
steer the plow it just flipped and twisted whenever she tried pulling it.

   That was frustrating but it was nothing compared to her troubles with
the shovels and such she tried to use.  They were of course made to be used
by ordinary people.  Even your average workman would from time to time snap
a shovel handle while trying to break up tightly packed soil.  For Jennifer
Stram, the thick handles of ash, hickory and oak snapped under even her
most casual efforts.  She could try to be careful with the spindly things
but that only worked so long before she grew careless and heard the
tell-tale snap of tortured wood.

   Besides, being that careful and working with such small tools was SLOW.
Mamma Stram had no patience for it.

   Jenny knew she wasn't the brightest wick but she applied herself to
designing a tool better suited to her needs.  She gave up on the shovels as
hopeless.  She was no blacksmith to fashion new, larger spade heads and she
had no way to attach stronger handles to the ones she had.

   Perhaps she could figure out a way to guide the plows.  She tried
pushing from behind but quickly ran into the same problem she had with the
shovels...  the tiller-like handles of the plows where never intended to
force the wedges of metal through the earth.  They simply snapped off in
her hand before she managed more than a couple feet.

   She even tried lashing a pair of plows to her feet but that turned out
to be an absolute joke.  She had pictured herself kick-stomping her way
across the fields like an angry toddler but no amount of lashing and
strapping came even close to keeping the things under her feet...  she
never even made it to the point of testing them in the field.

   She thought about the problem for weeks.  Inspiration came when she
passed an old wheelbarrow rotting near one of the abandoned barns.  Jenny
had no use for the things since she could carry loads far more easily
herself.  But seeing the single-wheel design brought home to her what the
root problem was with the plows.  They were unstable.

   A wheelbarrow is also unstable.  But a wagon with its four wheels was
far more steady.

   She had seen a number of small three-wheel carts growing up so she
decided to settle for that.  Fortunately, she had half a dozen plow heads
she'd found throughout the valley so she had plenty to work with...  she
wouldn't even have to steal from the weak lands.

   Jennifer was not any kind of craftswoman but her experience with her
carrying rigs and the bits of crude carpentry she had done allowed her to
put together a sturdy frame of roughly squared logs.  It was a simple T
arrangement.  Jenny figured that if she let a pair of plows trail behind a
third, the two would act as a drag and keep the contraption pointed in the
right direction.

   Jenny was rather proud of herself for finally reasoning the problem
through and finding a solution.  And the damn thing worked...  more or
less.

   One problem was the issue of footing.  Walking in front of the
triple-plow like an ox meant trudging over fresh and unstable ground.  As
she had often discovered before, Jenny's strength was easily thwarted by
bad footing or poor leverage.

   Eventually she decided that rather than pull the thing like a beast of
burden, she would stand fifty or a hundred feet away and haul the plow in
like landing a big fish.  This allowed her to settle into one chunk of
earth, stamp out some good footing and properly put her power to work.

   In later years she would eventually line all the fields she worked with
mostly buried logs to press her feet against to always have the ideal
footing.

   The three-plow system was good at keeping the plows pointed in the right
direction.  But, even though a plow is designed to keep its nose plunging
down into the earth, it would occasionally pop to the surface like a
porpoise.  Once that happened, it would happily skate across the surface,
accomplishing nothing.

   Jenny's solution to this problem was simple.  The tool needed more
weight.  The plows and thick beams only weighed about five-hundred pounds.
This made it easy for Jenny to chivvy around but it was proving to be too
light to do the job to her satisfaction.

   She built a wooden cage on top of the T frame and loaded it with rocks
until she was satisfied with its earth-hugging performance.  She actually
had quite a bit of fun figuring out how much weight to use.  As the hauling
got more difficult, Jenny reveled in the feel of her muscles working hard
for a change.

   Constantly breaking ropes forced her to back off on the weight.  She did
one time manage to haul the contraption through a fresh, undisturbed field
with four thousand pounds of rock in the bin.  She knew it was overkill but
she loved the way it made her muscles burn as she challenge herself.

   By that point she was bundling four heavy ropes together to take the
load...  she had more difficulty maintaining a good grip on the enormous
wad of fiber than she did actually dealing with the weight.

   And then that big hawser snapped on her next pass across the field.

   She eventually backed off to just a half-ton of added weight.  She
packed the stones in a series of rope-nets.  These she could sling over her
shoulders much like her old carry rig when she had to transport the plow.

   Jenny approached most tasks in much the same way.  Her great strength
and resilience set her apart from other people.  It had led to her isolated
childhood and driven her into the hills.  In a better world, perhaps Jenny
could have found a place in society and been a better-rounded human being
but that is not the way things had turned out.

   Jenny was defined by her power and she let it guide every aspect of her
life.

   If she needed to drive a fence post into the ground, the anvil from the
abandoned smithy made a good hammer.  Except when she got carried away and
shattered the wooden post.

   When she eventually became bored with rabbit and pheasant and squirrel
she decided that once in a while, a little weak-land beef would be nice to
have.  So she ran out of the valley, found a farm one night that seemed to
have stock to spare and stole a cow.  When she almost immediately grew
impatient with leading the balky creature, she slugged it across the head,
driving shards of shattered skull into its brain and killing it instantly.

   She slung the eight-hundred pound animal over her shoulders.  By the
time her easy, loping run brought her back to her home, the carcass's spine
and ribcage had disintegrated into countless shards of bone.  Butchering
the big animal was the bloodiest, messiest thing imaginable and Jenny ended
up wasting more meat than she ate.

   But she did get a few tasty steaks out of the whole rigmarole and Jenny
considered the venture a success.

   She hauled water in waist-high barrels, two at a time.  Due to the wear
and tear and breaking handles her axes suffered, she took to slamming logs
down onto pointed rocks to break them down for fire-wood.  She still needed
the axe to fell the trees though and she became careful with the tools...
she was growing tired of stealing replacements.

   Through all this, Stanley was usually planted on a nearby patch of
earth, watching his mother's labors and listening to her running
commentary. Any passer-by who was not simply stunned into mindless shock at
the sight of the naked woman engaged in impossible feats of strength would
have thought her mad to be babbling so.

   They might not have actually been wrong.  One would be hard pressed to
actually declare Jennifer Stram sane.  "Not well adjusted" would be about
the best that could be said.  But regardless of the state of her sanity,
her constant babble was the result of her pledge to talk to her son so that
he may learn to speak.

   Stanley's development seemed more or less normal.  Jenny really had
nothing to compare his growth too...  she couldn't remember her own early
childhood very well and she had been enough of an outcast in the weak lands
that she knew little about children in general.

   A number of falls and other accidents he had survived without injury
implied to Mamma Stram that her son had indeed inherited some measure of
her strength but beyond that she could not yet gauge how unusual he was.

   He was dark of skin like his mother and grew rambunctious in the way
most young children do.  He learned to walk at a typical age though
predictably, he was slow learning to speak.  Even the usual baby-babble was
slow in coming.

   By the time he was four, Stanley was a spindly, spider-like bundle of
energy.  He seemed to be all arms and legs.

   Needless to say, Jenny no longer carried him in a papoose.  Sometimes,
he would run along behind her.  He was almost tireless; his little legs
pumping frantically to keep up with his mother.  But his scamper was far
outpaced by his mother's loping strides.  Still having no patience for
anything that might hinder her, Jenny would usually pick him up and run
with him in her arms.  As the seasons passed she grew more confident with
his resilience and would let herself use the pounding, ground-devouring run
that she most favored.

   Later, once his arms and legs were long enough and his grip strong
enough, Stanley would cling to his mother's back while she ran.  Had Jenny
had a better reference to work from, she would have recognized his ability
to hold on as a clear indication of his unusual strength.

   There were two things in Jenny's life that bothered her.  The first was
her inability to get pregnant again.  The second she wasn't even aware of.
She didn't know why she grew sad while laying in bed at night or why her
son's happy squeals sometimes made her want to cry.  In fact, Jenny never
had understood emotions very well and sometimes didn't recognize the odd
feelings she would experience.

   She also didn't really know why she would still sometimes think about
Thomas, the man from her town in the weak lands that had perhaps been her
only friend.  She had left all the limitations and complications of that
life behind her.  She was far better off on her own.

   Of course, that was the root of her mysterious malaise.  Jenny Stram was
lonely.





   Jenny didn't know why she couldn't get pregnant again.  She didn't know
why she cried sometimes in bed at night or couldn't make herself get out of
bed some mornings.

   Finally, late in the summer of her son's fourth year, she couldn't take
it any more.

   Stanley had just begun speaking short, crude utterances and Jenny no
longer babbled constantly to him.  But she did find that she was often
talking to herself.  She would voice her sad complaints and frustration
with herself late at night.  She would have conversations with shadows,
debating things and explaining her problems.

   She was speaking to herself but often in her mind's eye she saw a face.
A friendly, mature, caring and often smiling face that had badly hurt her
once but was still the only friend she had ever had.

   One morning, out of the blue, Jenny decided to fix up her bed and make
it more presentable.  She had never more than half-heatedly repaired the
old bed frame after the violence of Stanley's birth.

   Searching the old abandoned homesteads, she brought the largest bed
frame she could find home.

   From a newly built inn fifty miles away she stole sheets and bedding and
packed her bed with fresh grasses.  Unknown to Jenny, her frequent midnight
thievery was becoming a topic of conversation in the lands surrounding
Ironcleft.  No one admitted knowing who or what it was that was leaving
doors ripped from hinges or shacks dismantled nor the nature of the large
shadowy figure sometimes seen departing...  some of the tales contained
intriguing combination of myth and fact.

   Some of the tales described the figure as a large, naked woman.  Many
men of the area, having encountered Jenny during her "seeding" forays,
suspected the two large women were one and the same.

   Jenny spent a few days fixing up her little home.  Actually, it turned
into something of a delaying tactic.  But eventually, there was nothing
left to do...  nothing she was inclined to do at any rate...  and the
moment of truth had come.

   Though Jenny often took her son with her on her journeys, she would also
sometimes leave him home alone for long hours.  The only thing that could
really do him any harm was the stream...  like his mother, Stanley swam
like a boat anchor.  She had been very strict in teaching him to stay away
from the water.

   To Jenny's simple mind, leaving her hardy son alone for as long as an
entire day was perfectly reasonable.

   So, around noon one day she told him that she would not be back till
morning.  She left him dried squirrel and corn bread to eat and set off
down the valley to what passed for civilization in the back country of 1830
Appalachia.

   When Jenny first returned to Ironcleft, she was already capable of
easily outrunning the fastest horse...  not only run faster but run
tirelessly for hours on-end.  Her time in the cursed lands had allowed her
to perfect her running techniques.

   This was not as trivial a thing as it sounds.  Her enormously powerful
legs could impel her body with tremendous force...  but the surface under
her feet was often uncooperative.  Jenny's rambles up and down the valley
allowed her to learn when to thrust, when to hop and when to just coast
flat-footed.  Sometimes she would bound like a deer, ready at each leap to
change direction.  Other times she would streak in a straight, pounding
line...  and woe be any obstacle in her path; she was like a run-away
freight wagon on an icy road.

   By the time Jenny set out on that fateful day she was capable of
achieving spectacular speeds under the right conditions.  In fact, she was
the fastest thing anywhere in the nineteenth century save perhaps for
stooping hawks.

   She made her way into the weak lands in sprints and bounds, covering in
three hours the ground it had taken her nearly three days to travel when
she first returned to her true home.  The small river that had been so
difficult to ford when she was burdened with all her worldly possessions
passed by almost un-noticed in a single leap.

   She actually reached the little village rather earlier than she
intended; the sun was still a couple hours from setting.  She settled down
to wait atop a small rise about a mile away.  The land around the village
was largely cleared of trees and she could spy upon the home of her quarry.
At that distance it was difficult to identify the different people moving
about but by the time dusk began darken the land she had picked out a few
familiar postures and movements.

   She briefly considered visiting her parents but really didn't feel any
desire to do so.  She waited until the last of the sun's light was fading
and approached the house quietly.

   --

   The kids were in bed.  Not asleep but in bed.  He could hear the girls
in the bottom bunk whispering and squirming as they waged their nightly
battle for just one more inch of space.  The eight year old would have
pushed her younger sister right out onto the floor if not for the potential
wrath of her parents.  The six-year-old's main weapon in this war was the
threat of tears and wailing that would bring one of the enforcers to the
scene.

   A well worn blanket hung from the upper bunk, giving the girls something
that could only be called privacy by the most generous of souls.  The upper
bunk was occupied by their older brother who had just turned eleven.  There
wasn't any pretense of privacy for him and his mother felt his stare has he
watched from across the room.

   His parents had been acting that funny way they sometimes acted that
night.  The mother had giggled two or three times at something her husband
whispered to her and he seemed to be touching her a lot.

   The boy thought himself wise in the ways of the world and knew this had
something to do with what men and woman did with one another in secret. 
He'd been woken by muffled laughs and disquieting groans many times over
the years but always in the darkest night and he had yet to see what the
ruckus was about.

   The worn but carefully polished table in the middle of the room was
bathed in light by the oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.  The only other
light in the room was a single candle next to the adults' bed.  Father had
just finished mending some harness leather and was collecting his tools. 
Mother was in her nightdress.

   He paused to watch her cotton-draped derrière as she straightened out
the bedding.  She squawked when he casually passed behind her, the pinch on
her butt going unnoticed by the boy's glittering eyes.

   "Stop it.  Do you need to take a walk before coming to bed, dear?  I
know what's on your mind but you're going to have to control yourself for a
bit.  Little pitchers, you know."

   "Maybe we could both go for a walk.  There's fresh hay in Dawson's
barn."

   She made a scandalized sound as she worked her way under the covers.  It
was actually rather too warm but the thick quilt was all the privacy the
couple could get.  "What kind of woman to you think I am, sir?"

   He blew out the lamp and shucked his trousers.  "Hopefully the same
woman I married all those years ago.  There's a reason I thought of you
when I smelled that fresh hay today." He stood by the bed smiling down at
her.

   He heard the door open behind him but was slow to react.  Who could be
walking in on them at this time of night?  Before he began to turn, a look
of shock stole across his wife's face as she stared past him.  In a split
second, the shock morphed into something more akin to terror.

   He spun and gaped at the form striding across the small room.  The lone
candle barely picked her form out against the dark background but her eyes
shone wide and glistening.

   "My god!  Jenny!"

   His wife began to scream.  Jennifer's stride carried her swiftly past
the man and her hand clamped across the woman's mouth, silencing her. 
"Shut your mouth, woman.  I'm here for Thomas."

   Tom grabbed Jenny's arm.  "Let her go.  Jenny!  Stop it!" he shouted. 
He tried to pull her away but Jenny's arm was like steel against his
ineffectual efforts.  He struggled a moment more before she pressed her
free hand against his chest and pushed him away.

   Thomas slammed into the table, going over the top and dragging it to
topple over behind him as he fell off the other side.

   The children were screaming now.  Jenny's hand was clamped across the
woman's mouth and chin like a vise.  Jenny looked into the terrified
woman's eyes and she lifted her slowly to her feet.  "I don't want to hurt
anybody.  I'm taking Thomas home with me and there's nothing in this world
that can stop me."

   Desperate, Tom picked up the ax from beside the door and rushed back
toward the bed.  "Let her go!" he screamed, raising the weapon above his
head.

   He looked from the dully gleaming edge of the ax to Jenny's broad back
and back again, conflicted.  He didn't want his wife to be harmed but he
didn't want to kill the big woman either.  With a strangled roar of
frustration he reversed the ax and slammed the wooden handle across the
naked Amazon's back with all his might.

   Jenny grunted.  Tom's wife screamed when her hand involuntarily squeezed
harder.

   Seeing red at the sound of his wife's pain, Tom attacked again and
again, the ax handle beating across her back.  Seeing no effect, he took
aim at her head and let loose with all his might.

   The blow to the head half blinded Jenny with pain.  "Ow, fuck!" she
shouted, finally dropping the little woman.  From the corner of her eye she
saw the next blow coming.  She intercepted the descending ax and pulled it
out of Thomas's hands.  Holding it in both hands, she snapped the handle
with little effort and dropped the sundered weapon.

   "Say goodbye to your family, Thomas.  You won't be seeing them for a
while." She said.  She grabbed an arm and yanked him up onto one shoulder.
She turned back to his wife.  "Don't try to follow me.  Don't send anyone
after us.  I don't like hurting people but I will if I have to."

   On the way out the door she growled to Tom, "And you don't try calling
for help either.  Anyone I hurt because you wouldn't keep quiet, it will be
on your hands."

   She trotted with Tom over her shoulder for the first mile or so.  Then
she shifted him down into a two-arm carry across her chest and took off at
a steady lope, keeping plenty of spring in her knees to keep the violent
jostling to a minimum.

   She ran through the night this way, covering about thirty miles before
dawn began to lighten the sky.  She found a pleasant little field to pause
in and let Thomas's abused body rest.

   He was slumped on the ground, groaning, hardly able to move.  "What's
the matter?" she asked.

   He shook with a painful, coughing laugh.  Where to start?  "I feel like
I've just been trampled by a stampeding herd." He said with a moan.

   Jenny considered for a moment.  "I'm sorry.  I thought I was being
careful with you.  Stanley never complains when I carry him like that, even
when I'm a lot less gentle."

   "Who's Stanley?" Tom asked.

   "My son" she said.

   He finally looked up at her.  "So, you had a boy.  Is he well?"

   She nodded.  "Very.  He is strong like me.  Still small, but strong."

   Thomas licked his lips in thought.  "I'm happy to hear that.  My son
Josh is eleven now and always very eager to show me how much he can help
around the farm."

   He held her eyes with his.  "What will happen to my son now that I am
gone, Jenny?"

   She shrugged and shook her head.  "He still has his mother and I hope
not to have to keep you for long." The later was something of a lie as she
was looking forward to having Thomas live with her and will likely not want
to see him go.

   He struggled wearily to his feet.  In addition to the beating he had
taken as Jenny ran through the night, he needed sleep.  But he stood
straight and faced Jenny.  He tried not to show the intimidation he felt as
his eyes traveled up her body and then up and up more to find her face.

   When Jenny had left nearly five years before, they had been of a height.
Thomas was a big, fit man; taller than most and broad of shoulder.  When
Jenny had been thirteen, she matched his 5'8" though was more slender.

   Now she stood a full head taller than he.  It was hard to believe.  Her
broad shoulders were sharp and square seeming, her waist trim and stomach
hard.  Her hips flared now more than when he had last known her and despite
her great size she was definitely more feminine.  Natural enough in a
maturing woman.

   Still firm, her breasts had gown noticeably but showed no signs of
having fed a child.  On any other woman their flesh would have been
considered very generous but on her frame they seemed almost petite.

   Thomas stared up at the 6'8" Amazon.  She seemed unfatigued but there
were signs of missed sleep in her reddened eyes.  He asked as calmly as he
could.  "Why did you do this, Jenny?"

   "I want to have your baby.  You will stay with me and make love to me
every night until I know that I am pregnant."

   He began shaking his head before she completed her declaration.  "No
Jenny, I will not do that.  I am a married man.  We've been through this
before."

   She took a single step closer to him.  She looked down her nose at him.
"Yes, you will.  The last time, I told you I could force you but I chose
not to.  I am not going to let you deny me again."

   Tom considered his words carefully.  "Does Stanley have any brothers or
sisters yet?" he asked.

   "No." she answered, a faint shadow of saddens shading her intense eyes.

   "Do you know people talk about you Jenny?  I know you're the thief that
has been stealing tools and livestock and linens in the night." He waited
for a reaction.

   She felt no remorse and continued to look him straight in the eye. 
"Yes. I take what I want."

   Thomas swallowed.  Was he about to commit suicide?  "I also hear how you
have been rutting with half the men in the state like the cheapest dockside
whore."

   Her nose flared and her eyes grew harder.  She was not offended by the
accusation really; she not only rejected traditional morality, she was
rather proud to do so.  But the fact that Tom plainly intended to be
hurtful did strike a nerve.  Nevertheless, she answered calmly, "I take
what I want.  I want more children."

   "Jenny, how is it that you've been fucking what I think must be hundreds
of men for years now and have not had another baby?"

   The shade of sadness he spotted earlier arose into a glooming shadow
across her brow.  "I don't know.  That's why I need you."

   He sighed and broke eye contact, staring blankly at her shoulder.  "How
can I help where so many have failed before?  Why me, Jenny?"

   Jenny did not know why her eyes got blurry and her nose felt stuffy. 
"Because you're my friend Thomas.  You used to like me.  I like you." She
wanted to use the word love but did not know if she was capable of that
emotion.  She didn't understand what she was feeling at all.

   Thomas clenched his fists and his jaw tightened.  His eyes returned to
hers.  "I love my wife, Jenny.  I'm married.  I can't help you."

   Cold rage knotted in Jenny's breast.  She rested a hand heavily on Tom's
shoulder and bent down to his eye level.  "What if you didn't have a wife?
Could I have your baby then?"

   "Jenny, what are you saying?  I know you won't hurt my Alice.  You're
not a bad pers-augh!" Jenny's crushing grip on his shoulder nearly
shattered his clavicle.

   "You already know that I am a thief and a whore.  What kind of person am
I?  What kind of person are you?  Are your vows more important than your
wife's life?" She released him and stood straight.

   He rubbed at his shoulder, wincing.  "Jennifer, please.  Don't do this.
It's wrong."

   She crossed her arms.  "I say it is right." She looked him up and down.
He wore only a loose wool overshirt and his underbritches.  "Take off your
clothes."

   "No.  I will not do this." He said, his eyes pleading with her.

   Jenny took one stiff step forward and grabbed at his clothes where
stomach met groin.  Catching both waistband and shirt-hem in her fist, she
put her other hand in the middle of his chest and yanked the clothes from
his body.

   In the blink of an eye he was nude.  The force of her action sent him
stumbling backward and down onto his naked ass.  The wild meadow grass was
dry and harsh, the earth beneath hard and uneven.

   Dropping what was now rags, she stalked toward him.  She planted one
foot between his legs and loomed over him like a nightmarish goddess.  "You
are mine now, Thomas.  If you try to escape, I will kill your wife.  If you
resist me, I will have to hurt you."

   Tears were running down Tom's cheeks.  His mouth opened and closed
helplessly as he searched for something, anything to say to the mad-woman.

   She descended gracefully to her knees and bent over him.  With one hand
resting beside his head to support her body, her other hand went to his
manhood.

   "I know I am a beautiful woman.  I am naked and asking you to make love
to me.  Why aren't you hard for me, Thomas?" she asked, hurt now tingeing
her gruff words.

   "Please, no." was all Thomas could say.

   Jenny turned from his face to examine his soft dick.  Gently, as if
fondling a small bird, she held and stroked it.

   "Does your wife use her mouth on you?" she asked.  When he didn't answer
she moved one hand down his leg till she reached his shin.  With great
deliberation she began to squeeze.  "I will hurt you if you do not do as I
wish.  I will break your leg...  I can carry you easily enough and you
don't really need it for fucking."

   Thomas was silent for a few seconds longer as the pressure continued to
build.  Jenny's hand was steady as a rock, not seeming to strain at all. 
It felt as if his bone were actually bending under the force.  Thomas's leg
might as well have been trapped in a mill wheel.  "Yes" he shouted in pain.
Immediately, Jenny released him.  Panting, he continued, "She used to, when
we were younger."

   Jenny looked down at his soft penis again.  Even though she had lain
with hundreds of men, she had never taken a cock into her mouth.  It was an
act that either displayed love or submission and she had never experienced
either.  Now she bowed her head over Thomas's groin, closed her eyes and
sucked his reluctant member into her mouth.

   It tasted of salt and man-musk.  It was an unusual sensation, at once
causing her to salivate and want to gag.  With gentle determination, she
bathed the soft rolling flesh with her tongue and sucked on it softly.

   In truth, it was not loyalty to his wife or any kind of repugnance that
had kept Tom's manhood withered, with was simple fear.  The sight of
Jenny's head bobbing and twisting at his waist and the gentle and
determined way she manipulated his organ overcame that fear and his little
soldier began to pulse with life.

   Jenny paused frequently to examine Tom's cock.  As it grew larger and
harder Jenny's pussy began to drip and twinge with anticipation.

   Soon, Tom's proud eight-inch tool filled Jenny's mouth.  She released it
and examined it one last time, her large, rough hands stroking it gently.
Her eyes met his for a split second and they gleamed with animal hunger.

   Grabbing his arm, the powerful woman pulled Tom on top of her as she
rolled onto her back.  Her other hand was gripped firmly around his cock.
As his weight shifted her hand pressed upward against his groin.  For
several long moments he hung supported on her rock-steady arm.  She spread
her legs and slowly lowered him into position between her thighs.  Her big
hands clasped his hips and drew him into her.

   Jenny trembled with pleasure as Tom's hot shaft penetrated her body. 
Tom fought back sobs.  Jenny's firm but still gentle grip on his hips
forced his groin against hers.  The goddess's inner folds were hot and
slick.  At the moment Thomas bottomed out, his body bounced against her
clit and Jenny jumped and hissed.  Tom's eyes bugged out and he whimpered;
Jenny's twitching hole threatened to squeeze his precious manhood to a
pulp.

   Intent on the wonderful sensation of finally having Thomas inside her,
Jenny kept a tight grip on his hips.  Slowly at first and then more
quickly, she began lifting and lowering his nearly two-hundred pound form,
fucking herself with his throbbing prick.

   Thomas was helpless, a mere mannequin in the freakish woman's hands. 
Tirelessly she sawed him in and out of her dripping hole.  Her nostrils
were flared and she stared intently at the union of their bodies, watching
his hard rod slide in and out of her body.

   After five minutes her movements became jerky and less controlled.  Her
breath was coming in gasps, not from fatigue but from building passion. 
From deep in her throat behind gritted teeth a moaning growl arose. 
Jenny's careful sawing turned into a flurry of pounding impalements and she
screamed as she came.

   Thomas screamed as well, not knowing what was worse, the bone-jarring
impacts as she violently pulled his body to hers or the crushing grip of
her climaxing pussy.

   After nearly a minute of orgasmic chaos, Jenny's body slowly relaxed. 
Almost without effort, she continued to hold Tom over her body.  She looked
into his tear-filled eyes.  "That was as wonderful as I have always known
it would be.  Your beautiful cock makes me feel so good."

   Jenny still held Tom's hips elevated above her groin.  Slowly she raised
her hips to meet his, taking the entire length of his cock into her soaking
sex again.

   The copious girl-cum had lubricated his cock well and Tom was beginning
to feel real pleasure from the assault.  In control of herself once again,
Jenny was able to keep her inner muscles soft and tender for her lover.

   With all the other men Jennifer Stram had been with, she had been
careful to conceal her strength.  Her size had been intimidating enough. 
She did not have to do this with Tom.  As she began to gradually work her
way towards her second orgasm, she let her body arch upward beneath him.

   She still held most of his weight with her hands on his hips.  Her legs
were spread wide apart, her feet planted solidly on the ground.  Her
shoulders touched earth at the other end.  In the middle, her back arched
and her hips rose high.  The bridge thus formed remained rock-steady even
as Jenny's excitement led her to jab Thomas into her body more and more
vigorously.

   "Please Thomas, give me you seed.  Cum with me darling!" she shouted. 
As another climax burned through her body she fought to maintain control
and coax the man's seed from his testicles.

   Thomas answered her plea with panting grunts.  His helpless body
discharged his essence into her womb.

   When Jenny felt his release, her orgasm redoubled.  "Oh yes, thank you.
Oh god, oh god, give me your baby!" She let her hips drop to the ground and
wrapped her arms and legs around Thomas tenderly.  Tears streamed from her
eyes and she kissed his head and murmured her happy gratitude.

   Tom lay sprawled across Jenny's body, exhausted.  In a matter of only a
few minutes, Jenny's breathing slowed.  When his softened cock finally slid
free of her soupy hole, "We need to get moving.  I told Stanley I'd be home
this morning and at this rate we'll be lucky to make it by nightfall."

   With thoughtless ease, Jenny wrapped one arm around her lover and used
the other to thrust herself to her feet in a single lunge.  She ignored
Tom's surprised squawk.  Shifting him back into a double underarm carry,
she took off running without a backward glance, leaving his ruined clothing
behind.

   She ran at what was for her a tortuously slow lope, keeping as much
spring in her knees as she could to ease Thomas's ride.

   After several hours she reached the river that Ironbrook fed...  she
still had no idea what its name was.  Holding him high near her neck, she
waded across the stream.  This put his limp dick practically in her face.
By the time she reached the other side, she was fixated on the soft piece
of meat.

   On the bank, she smiled at him, oblivious to the dazed, barely
half-aware look in his eyes.  Still holding him high against her chest, she
bent her head and took his shriveled sex into her mouth.

   Tom groaned as Jenny suckled on his manhood.  Surrendering to her
helplessly, he went slack in her arms.  He felt warmth spread through his
loins and he began to stiffen between her lips.

   She stood rock-steady with him in her arms for several long minutes as
she brought his penis back to life.  When he was fully hard, she placed him
on his feet.  She kissed his mouth, her tongue rubbing against his.  She
briefly stroked her clit and then lay back on the ground.  Her legs spread
wide she said, "Please give me more of your seed."

   Emotionally wrung out and physically near collapse, Thomas just did as
he was told.  She arched again beneath him as he entered her.  Numbly,
weakly, he humped her clasping pussy until she climaxed.  Some basic trait
of biology triggered his own release at that point and he bathed her womb
again.

   After a moment to savior the glow, Jenny rose again, lifting Thomas's
dead-tired body smoothly.  "I don't suppose running across the countryside
right after you cum in me is the best was to get pregnant." she said
conversational as she trotted off.  "But I plan to spend many, many nights
laying with you in bed, my womb soaking in your seed."

   Even if Thomas had not been half unconscious, it's hard to know how that
image would have stuck him.  On the one hand, it should be an empowering
image to a male.  On the other hand, Thomas had no power.