The women walked into the gym, covered only by simple loincloths made of bathing towels. Working out in the nude was a rather new experience, being watched by Stuart made things only stranger. Kieran had decided to stay out and wait, saying something about not wishing to relight a relationship that was still basically over.
They started by stretching and preparing for training. Stuart was watching them avidly as they went through basic motions to increase their flexibility. After a short warm-up, they went to work. Valerie had her legs day and so walked over to the leg press machine. She set it to 450 lbs., climbed on and started. She went for 8 reps before finishing and taking a short break to spot for Raffaela. Raffaela had prepared 300 lbs. for bench pressing. She started working her chest at full power, grunting with effort. Valerie quickly noticed that her friend was blowing off her anger at Kieran. With every lift, her breast-mass quivered, swelling with power.
When she was done, she racked the barbell and stretched. Stuart was already close to blowing. After their initial exercise, Valerie switched to calf raises, while Raffaela worked on dumbbell flies.
They were interrupted by Beatrice’s return. She came to the gym, gave her extremely horny husband a devastating glare and said:
“Hello, girls. I brought you something to wear. Please finish and come over. Stuart, do you mind?”
He got up sheepishly and followed her. Valerie and Raffaela finished their exercises, added half an hour of cardio, then showered and got dressed. Beatrice’s taste proved to be both exquisite and expensive. Valerie struggled to get into her tight beige pants, who did nothing to hide the sheer enormity of her thighs and calves. She put on the white blouse and grey pull-over, easing her muscles in the unfamiliar environment. She finished her styling by slinging a silk scarf through the belt loops, thus accentuating her hips. She told Raffaela:
“Take a look, I’m dressed as you when we met!”
“Thank god, I don’t do the same for you.”
Raffaela pulled on a spandex shirt and a pair of creased-leg trousers.
“Seems to me my size was out.”
“Honestly, your size is so far out, it’s in.”
“You’re stupid.”

Back in the living room, they found Kieran on the phone. He was talking to his current girlfriend, who didn’t seem too happy about his current predicament. Of course, he had neglected to tell her about Raffaela, but he had to admit staying out late. When he was done, Raffaela asked:
“Who is she?”
He sheepishly replied:
“Brittany.”
“Brittany? You can’t be serious. You dumped me because you thought I was becoming a freak and then you hooked up with Miss ‘I got tits bigger than my head’.”
“Well, so do you.”
“Yes, but mine are real.”
“Anyway, I just like that I can have a nice chat with her, that she cares about what I do. It’s just that I was missing the actual relationship.”
“Please, don’t get me started and don’t give me any details. I’m happy that you’re happy, but I’m also in way too much trouble right now to even try to care.”
Beatrice was forced to interrupt her:
“I’m sorry, but the troubles in your relationship will have to wait. Right now, I’ve been trying to find out who is behind all this, and I seem to have found out what’s going on: Your client, my boss, was working on a peace-treaty with our friends from the northwest. Apparently, the chief of the security service has had a few running-ins with them over time. He also seems to be very concerned about certain operations under his command over there. To make it simple: he doesn’t want peace, because that would entail clearing up all the things he’s done over there. As a result, he and his friends have decided to get rid of the prime minister. This means that there is almost no chance of clearing your names, let alone preventing the security service from hunting you down to silence you.”
Raffaela, Valerie and Kieran stared at her in horror as they realised what was going on. This wasn’t going to end well.
“I think that there are three solutions to your problem: the first one is simple, but may eventually cost you your lives: emigration. If you manage to leave the country, you can hope that they won’t try to hunt you down. The second one is even more awful: you could go to the underground and try to survive until the situation has calmed down. I doubt you’d last long. There is a third possibility. You could try and go to the press. Exposing the whole mess could force my bosses’ successor to grapple the problem and maybe help you. I have my doubts. You’d need someone who works for the press, but quite a few of them are under lax surveillance. This can tighten if something comes up, so I doubt someone would take the risk.”
Valerie, who had remained silent all through the discussions, said:
“What if we found a spokesperson, someone who’d be willing to just explain everything. Someone whose international renown would be so great that no one could challenge his words?”
“Again, I have my doubts whether someone like this would even consider starting a fight with the security service.”
“What if we had something in hand which was so horrible and awful that it could ruin him in every imaginable way if it came out?”
Beatrice raised her eyebrow:
“You have someone in mind?”
“Of course. A good friend of us.”
She tried to put her arm around Raffaela’s shoulder and failed abysmally.

At a neighbouring flat, two agents of the security service took off their headphones. The first one said:
"Sounds good. I'll call the boss, you should get down and join Payne at the garage. Follow them to their destination, we'll join you later on. Let's hope we get them quickly."
He picked up his phone and called:
"Boss, this is Jackson. You were right, they showed up at the secretary's place. This must have been one hell of a conspiracy. She must have wanted him dead for some while to plan all this."
"Excellent. I'll pick you up in a moment, we're just finalising things here."

Fifteen minutes later, Beatrice drove the two women and Kieran to the outskirts of the city. A look at the phone book had unveiled Pasquali's address, and he was about to have some unwelcome visitors. She took a heavy –looking duffel bag with her.
When they arrived, the professor's house was dark. It had been built in the green belt around the city, taking advantage of the relative calm of the area. Around the building, a large and well-groomed garden had been set up. Around the property, a low wall and a well-trimmed hedge marked its boundaries. Beatrice stopped the car and turned around:
"This looks deserted. Are you sure he's here?"
Raffaela replied:
"I called the university. They told me he had just left. If he's not here, he'll be arriving soon."
Outside, the noise of a shutting door was audible. Valerie quickly climbed out of the car and stepped on the wall, glancing over the hedge. She whispered:
"There he is. He just got out of the garage."
"Alright. How do we do this? Should we just ring?"
"Sounds like a plan!"

Seconds later, an annoyed voice was heard over the intercom:
"Who is it?"
"Raffaela Twaine. One of your students from the research seminary. I have a very important question for you."
"Can't this wait for tomorrow? I just got home."
"No sir, it's absolutely vital! Can I come in?"
There was a short pause.
"Okay. But make it quick."
The buzzer rang and Raffaela opened the door. The group walked inside and approached the house. As the professor opened the door, he stared in disbelief at the people that walked towards him.
"What the hell?"
Raffaela dashed forward, flung herself against the door and prevented him from closing it. The door was torn open, the professor thrown to the ground. Raffaela straddled him, pinning him under her weight.
"Hello, professor. I just wanted to thank you for your excellent input. Imagine my surprise when I finally found what your study was about. Still, I hope your happy now. I am addicted, I have changed my life. It's all nicely documented, ready for publication!"
Squirming between her powerful thighs, he replied:
"So you figured it out. I'm really sorry, but this was a beautiful way of getting the data, don't you think? Everybody'll get his share and we'll have a scientific breakthrough. No point in harrassing me!"
"Of course. On the other hand, I'm not sure whether the media would rather prefer a story about young female students forced to turn themselves into freaks."
He gave her a thoughtful look, than said:
"You've got a point. So, what do you want? I can make you a co-author of the meta-study."
"No, I'm sorry. This won't be necessary. We have a much more complex problem with which we will need your help."
At this very moment, several cars showed up at the front gate. Official looking gentlemen climbed out and walked to the garden gate. The head agent shouted:
"Everybody, hands up!"

Instead of complying, they dropped to the ground. In reaction, shots rang out. The professor screamed:
“What the hell is going on?”
“Shut up!”
Beatrice shouted:
“That’s the security service. However, I have a surprise for them.”
She unzipped the bag and pulled out an aged rifle. The other people stared at her as she loaded it. She said:
“The security service and me go way back. It’s mutual love.” She rolled over and opened fire. The others stayed down, scared by the whizzing bullets. She continued:
“I guess they want to kill us. You for being witnesses, me for remembering their crimes in the northwest.”
Valerie asked:
“So, what do we do? They’ll kill us. They’ll really kill us.”
“First, we even the odds. Give me the launcher.”
“The launcher?”
Raffaela handed her the tube from the bag.
“Duck.”
The thing roared and threw a flaming flash at the assailants. The detonation blasted them to the ground.
Outside, the agents recovered slowly. Beatrice approached them, using the bushes in the garden as cover. Finally, she shot at them, disabling or killing most of them. She operated with cold, ruthless fury, destroying them with murderous speed. At last, the head agent was the only one left. Beatrice aimed at him and shot. His leg was torn up. He screamed. Beatrice stared at him with hateful disdain. She spat out:
“Payne. This is the end.”
Gritting his teeth, he replied:
“You’re Shan’s widow. You were the prime minister’s assistant. You’ve changed a lot. I always thought I knew you. I really should’ve killed you when I had a chance. Instead of merely…”
His words were interrupted by a lone gunshot.
Beatrice turned to her companions.
“I think it’s time to go to the press. Mr. Pasquali, I think you’ll love to be our spokes-person, won’t you?”
He nodded, still devastated by the horror in his front yard.

A few weeks later, things settled down. Raffaela and Valerie were interviewed on national television. Their identities were hidden. The whole situation caused a very complex and difficult investigation, which cleared up most of the questions.
In the end, Raffaela returned to the university. She lost a lot of her mass, replacing it with leaner, tighter muscles. Her career led her to further participating research, eventually becoming an eminent mistress of this method.
Valerie took a while to evaluate her choices. Finally, she joined Diana in her business. Perfecting her physique over the years, she became an idol of the muscle worship crowd and a legend in her own time.