New season, new series name. :p I don't really know how long this series is going to run, I haven't planned it out yet. Let's see where it goes. :)
"Well hello there, Flo."
A familiar face moves into Florence Almeida's field of vision. Florence's arms tremble -- she is holding up a barbell loaded up to 60kg, and she's reached her limit of 4 reps. "Oh, hi," she gasps. "Uh, help me rack this, would you?"
"Nahhhh!" Big, brawny Jasmine Kaur moves to stand at Florence's head, behind the bench press rack. "C'mon, I got you. 1 more! This is easy for you, Flo, easy!"
It is not, in fact, easy. Jasmine also fails to make it any easier -- her hands don't actually touch the rack as Florence strains to push the weight up off her chest. "Ahh... ahhhh... ahhhhhhh!" she cries out with increasing desperation. The shaking barbell stops halfway up, and begins descending again. "Help... unghh... help..."
Jasmine waits till the barbell is almost all the way down to Florence's sternum before taking a firm hold of the metal and drawing it up and back with one smooth motion, like a biceps curl. Florence has barely any strength left in her arms, shoulders or chest at this point -- it really is Jasmine's arm strength. She lets her arms dangle limply at her sides while glaring up at the cackling Indian musclegirl.
"Fuck you, Jasmine," she murmurs halfheartedly. Her lower back is twinging like crazy now, and she's afraid that if she moves wrong she'll end up with a lower back injury that'll put her out of action for some time.
"Hey, no pain, no gain, gotta hustle for the muscle, girlfriend."
"Not your girlfriend."
"Aw, how can you say that? After all the times we've cummed together."
"That'd make everyone everyone's girlfriend," Florence retorts.
"Ha! Ok. Although, you seem to be close to Sylvia these days. What's the story there?" Jasmine has moved to stand beside Florence, who gingerly pulls herself up into a sitting position while gripping the bar.
"There's no story," Florence mutters and looks away, rubbing her lower back. "Ow... fuck you, seriously..."
"C'mon, spill. I saw the video. You were in cahoots with the bitch, girl! You were using that remote-controlled vibrator on her... what the actual! Hahaha..." Jasmine dissolves into giggles. Her mass of belly muscles writhe and undulate as the amusement wracks her body. "That was... that was seriously some of the funniest shit I've ever seen. Especially when the fucking thing malfunctioned and she was... she was so frantic, trying to get the thing out of her, then it was like she was laying an egg... and you were there, jamming your finger on the button and making those funny faces... like, oh my goddess, you were like this isn't working! I can't stop it, this button isn't working, what do I do, what do I do now? Sylvia, sorry, I'm sorry, Sylvia..." Jasmine dissolves into peals of outright laughter.
Florence, her face crimson, says nothing.
"Oh, I wish I could've been there." Jasmine manages to say after recovering somewhat. "Too bad I don't get along with the Steele bitches. But yeah, you seem to. Were you trying to get with Sylvia?"
"Not anymore, obviously," Florence mumbles and looks down shamefacedly.
"Yeah, not after that debacle, huh. Honestly, I never thought she was very sexy. Certainly not after she cheated and still lost. So are you invited to the next one? Dahlia vs. Sheila?"
"That one isn't invitation. That one's open. Right here." Florence gestures vaguely in the direction of the "Function Room".
"Wow. They agreed?"
"I... guess?"
"That is going to be so interesting. I wouldn't miss it for the world. When is it again, next Saturday evening, right? Hey, you wanna come with? Let's be partners," Jasmine offers generously. "I have a new vibrator I want to try. You can try it with me."
"I'm already coming with my mom," Florence blurts out, but then flushes. "Um... you could join us. If you're coming alone."
"Aw, I don't get to have you all to myself? Nah, forget it, I'll get someone else." Jasmine waves a hand dismissively. "No biggie. Hey so... what do you think? Does Dahlia have a chance at all?"
"You can't be serious!" Florence can't help scoffing. But then she looks up at Jasmine's earnest expression. "You're serious," she breathes. "You don't think it's going to be a total curb stomp."
Jasmine leans against the bench press rack and props her fist against her hip. The movement causes the awesome definition on her massive arm and shoulder to pop. Florence's gaze involuntarily fixes on Jasmine's musculature. "Why do you think it's going to be?"
"I... you actually..." Florence stops to think. "Ok, well... Dahlia has a lot of grit, I'll give her that. From what we've seen so far, we don't know them very well, but even her mother showed a lot of fight. Dahlia did show she was stronger than Sylvia, in reality... But Sheila's a mother. How often do daughters beat mothers who're still under 60? Sheila probably outweighs her by... what... 10? 15? I wouldn't be surprised if Sheila has a 15kg advantage, and most of that muscle."
"Smaller girls do win sometimes."
"But have you seen the stipulations for the contest?"
Jasmine hasn't, so Florence quickly pulls up the relevant document on her phone. "Here, take a look. The deck is totally stacked. Those poor Kwans... they're gonna be slaves."
Jasmine is silent as she scrolls through the document. Slowly, she shakes her head. "Those Steeles are really something. I mean... they have a right to do it this way, but... where's the pride? Where's the honor?"
Florence shrugs. "They're like that. We all know. They just want to win."
"Sylvia as referee, fine, whatever. We're all going to be watching anyway, so that doesn't actually matter. If Sylvia's unfair we'll all start booing and they won't live it down. But... the whole contest is practically rigged. Fuck."
"Yep." Florence nods.
The match between Sheila and Dahlia will be a best-of-7, or first-to-4, series of contests. Round 1: Squats. Round 2: Deadlifts. Round 3: Bench press. For each of these rounds, Sheila will set the pace, selecting a weight and doing as many reps as she can with it. Then it'll be Dahlia's turn, and if Dahlia can't match the same number of reps, the point goes to Sheila.
Then Round 4: arm-wrestling, right arm. And the kicker... for rounds 1 to 3, Camellia can spot her daughter for safety, but before round 4 starts, Camellia is to be strung up to a bondage rack (specifically an inverted-Y rack, meaning Camellia's arms will be strapped together straight up above her while her legs will be apart). The table -- a professional arm wrestling table -- will be set up right in front of her.
Florence cannot help but think this will be outright bullying. Poor Dahlia surely cannot outlift Sheila at any of those 3 lifts, and will tire herself out in the attempt. Then having an arm wrestling match right after her bench press attempt... it seems calculated to give Sheila a crushing 4-0 victory.
Rounds 5 to 7 seem almost perfunctory. Arm wrestling, left arm; tug-of-war; submission wrestling.
"So yeah. Poor Dahlia. Poor Camellia. Poor Kwans." Florence shakes her head commiseratingly.
"Like you won't be bringing yourself to multiple climaxes along with everyone else, watching them get humiliated and destroyed," Jasmine snorts. She looks thoughtful. "Mmm. I don't know... I feel like Dahlia might surprise all of us."
"She's very muscular, very strong," Florence concedes, "but the size and weight difference... it's just too much."
"Mmm. Let's see next week. Hey, come and give me a spot, will you? I'm going heavy on squats today."
Florence sighs and assents. Her lower back spasms have subsided, but she rubs it gingerly as she stands up. She won't risk it anymore today. Fucking Jasmine Kaur, she thinks to herself, glaring at the powerfully-built woman's thick back muscles. She doesn't dare say it to Jasmine's face, of course, or complain too much; she's been crushed too many times -- physically and sexually -- by the larger, stronger Jasmine already.
It really does seem almost a foregone conclusion, a one-sided beatdown, Florence muses. But Jasmine doesn't seem to think so...
I am looking forward to this new series. 8)
"Dahlia, my love."
"Yes, Mom." Dahlia's fingers trace patterns along her mother's ridged back muscles. Camellia's weight rests comfortably on top of her.
"I want you to know something. I'm proud of you, no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter if you win or lose. You are my incredible daughter, and I love you..."
"Mom... no."
Camellia looks startled, and blinks. Dahlia is shaking her head. "Mom... that's not what I need to hear right now."
Camellia is silent. Dahlia looks up at her mother, and something in her face changes. She shifts her limbs, and suddenly her thighs are on the outside, clamping Camellia's together. Her arms are now pinning Camellia's to her sides and squeezing in a bear hug.
"Feel it, Mom?" Dahlia whispers, her lips brushing against her mother's.
Camellia always enjoys it when her daughter gets dominant -- they take turns getting frisky like this -- but at the moment she can sense Dahlia has a point to make. "Yes. I feel it."
"Feel how strong I am for you. Feel how strong you've made me."
"I feel it. I feel it every day."
"I can do it, Mom. I can win. I can beat her for you." Dahlia's muscles flex away. Her voice grows strained with exertion. "Do you believe in me, Mom?"
Camellia is now having to fight back, to push out with her arms and legs to resist Dahlia's crushing pressure. Her daughter is strong, oh yes, so strong...! "Yes. Always."
"Don't you want me to win tomorrow? To outmuscle Sheila right in front of you, to avenge you?"
"I do." Camellia practically moans. "I do, so much. I want you to win. I don't want you to lose."
"I need you to believe in me, Mom!"
"Always!"
They are both grunting now. Camellia can't extricate herself. Her daughter has already outstripped her, become stronger than her, and her heart is bursting with pride.
"You make me stronger."
"Good."
"I'll win, Mom. I'll win."
"Do it. Beat her. Show me, show everyone, you're better than her."
"We'll do it together. You and me, Mom. Feel this? This strength and power, it comes from you, Mom. All from you."
"Yes." Camellia clenches her teeth, feeling her arousal build. "Don't lose, Dahlia. Win for me."
"Yes, Mom!"
It is hopeless, of course. Camellia knows the score. With Sheila's size and weight advantage, as strong and plucky as her Dahlia is, tomorrow's match will just be a drawn-out humiliation ritual. And with her being strapped up as a kind of hostage, on account of having lost to Sheila, the whole event is basically one big BDSM party. She only hopes her Dahlia will not be put through too much pain and suffering. Knowing her, though... Dahlia won't back down from any of it, not one bit. She knows her daughter will step up to the plate, and take all the pain and punishment their tormentors throw her way, and look incredibly strong and sexy doing it.
But as for winning...
She can see and sense the fire in Dahlia's eyes. She can feel the strength in her daughter's muscles. Dahlia continues to grow ever stronger, putting on a kilo of muscle over this past month. Her muscles are as compactly powerful as ever. In a contest of raw strength... competing against Sheila in the 3 powerlifting lifts... there is just no way. Not even for her Dahlia.
She has told her daughter the truth. She will be proud of her no matter what. No one can take that away from them. Ever.
Sheila reclines outside in the yard, taking contented puffs on the cigarette in her thick, callused fingers. Beside her, Sylvia cracks open another cold one.
They are both spending the afternoon suntanning, before tomorrow evening's recreation. Sheila has decided she wants a slightly more pronounced tan so that her muscle definition shows up a bit more in the videos and photos that will be taken, and Sylvia is going along with it. So at the moment, they are both fully in the buff in their front yard, sitting on deck chairs.
"You really shouldn't be smoking anymore, Mom," Sylvia complains. She herself took it up a few years ago, but only smokes infrequently. "That's what, your fifth today?'
"My sixth, and mind your own beer belly, girl," Sheila growls in response.
Sylvia stares in disbelief and outrage at her mother's thick waistline, but then snorts and leans back, taking a gulp. "Sure would be nice to have a couple of maids around the house after tomorrow," she snickers nastily.
"Ha!" Sheila barks with amusement, but this quickly becomes a phlegmy hacking cough that takes her about half a minute more to clear. She hawks and spits, then presses a finger to a nostril and forcefully expels a gobbet of mucus.
Sylvia doesn't say anything, but privately she nurses some concerns. Her mother's nose hasn't been the same ever since that damned Camellia Kwan broke it. It was easy enough to set afterwards, but it will never be quite the same again -- the slight lumpiness will always be discernible, and something inside also seems to have been messed up slightly. It is just a few little things, so far, just a slightly greater tendency for Sheila's sinuses to act up, a little bit harder to clear her nasal passageway after sneezes, a little more sneezing than before... When was the last time they went for a run, or a swim? Sylvia idly wonders. They don't even do much on the rowing machine or the elliptical, when they visit the neighborhood gym. Sheila has been focusing on doing the big lifts in preparation for the crushing of Dahlia, and of course pumping up her build with various machines and movements. Her bull neck looks thicker than ever, and her shoulders are really boulders now.
There's nothing to worry about, Sylvia tries to tell herself. Look at your big, strong, powerful Mom! Who else has a mom like her? Well, apart from Jasmine Kaur... and a few others... but Mom is a powerhouse! She is going to wipe the mats with poor little Dahlia tomorrow. It will be such a delight to watch up close...
But then lately, at nights, where they used to average five orgasms apiece... Sheila seems to manage about three these days, at most, before she goes off into a deep slumber. Sometimes just one or two, and then she calls it a night, sweating all over like a stuck pig.
And the snoring...!
Never mind. Time enough to work on cardio fitness later. Especially since having the Kwans around as maidservants will leave the Steeles a bit more time for themselves...!
This one is fire!!!! I can see Dahlia finally avenging her mother ;) but deep down I still enjoyed her humiliation too much last time ;D I dunno which one I like more but I feel like no matter what happens in the end, Camellia and Sylvia will be more than involved :D
The fateful day of the duel dawns, much like any other day. For the Steeles, it is a bright sunny day full of promise, and they walk with a spring in their step towards the venue. But for the Kwans, as they walk hand in hand... the sky seems overcast and gloomy.
They reach the venue without incident and proceed straight to their dressing room, where Camellia proceeds to help her daughter strip down, then to oil her up. Dahlia spreads her arms and legs wide and closes her eyes, silently enjoying this sacrament, one of the highest and holiest in their society: a loving mother oiling her daughter's muscles before a battle. Camellia's fingers dig firmly into Dahlia's flesh, kneading the tight knots away. Where her hands pass over, Dahlia's skin is left smooth and glistening, highlighting every striated strand of definition she has trained so hard to produce. The oil causes her small breasts to take on a luminous glow, especially at the underboobs. The thatch of hair adorning her crotch gleams wetly.
Camellia's chest feels tight. She slips her fingers into the folds of Dahlia's pussy and begins her tender treatment. Dahlia curls her arms into a powerful flex and looks deep into her mother's eyes. "I can feel the strength you're giving me. You make me so strong..." Camellia nods and smiles at the reassurance. Her daughter looks simply magnificent. Brave and powerful. Will it be enough to defeat the ogress...?
Then it is time to put on the bathrobe and walk her daughter out into the arena.
The room has been set up as follows: dueling mats laid out in a large area; chairs arranged along one side of the room for the audience, numbering more than 30; an inverted Y-rack with cuffs set up in the middle of the seating area, facing the mats; along the opposite wall, 3 weights stations for the strength contests -- a squat cage, two raised pads for the deadlift bar, and a bench press rack. Later, the arm wrestling table will be brought out in front of the inverted-Y rack -- Camellia's torture stand. And finally, though no one is really expecting it to go that far, lines of tape mark out positions and boundaries for the tug-of-war.
Everyone in the room is naked and ready -- except for Sheila and Dahlia, still in their ceremonial bathrobes. The audience members have their lube and toys out, and some are already fingering their partners as they turn to look from one end of the room to the other, where each rival pair is standing. Sylvia stands with an arm propped casually on Sheila's shoulder, and both of them are smirking at the Kwans across the room. Camellia stands with an arm encircling her daughter's waist protectively.
The room goes quiet as Sylvia gives her mother a nod and starts walking out to the center of the mats, her mother following behind with a swagger in her step. Dahlia and Camellia step forward as well and move to face their rivals. Sheila and Dahlia come to a stop about a meter from each other. Dahlia's stance and face are neutral, while Sheila has her arms folded across her chest and looks insufferably smug.
Sylvia turns to address the spectators. "The contest will now begin. On your left, weighing in at an impressive 80 kilos of strong, powerful muscle, my mighty, dominant mother.. Sheila Steele!"
On cue, Sheila shrugs her shoulders and lets fall her bathrobe. Her massive, oiled body gleams under the lights. Her muscles are pumped, and look more impressive than ever. Her belly has gotten thicker than before, and the lines of abdominal definition are fainter. Her upper body definition, however, seems to have improved. As the crowd gasps and claps, Sheila brings her arms up into a powerful flex, grinning at the visibly shaken Camellia. Dahlia's expression, however, remains unchanged. Her eyes travel all over Sheila's body, and her lips seem to tighten slightly, but she shows no response to Sheila's intimidation.
"Your turn, Dahlia," Sylvia says in a singsong voice as she takes a step back, and begins squeezing Sheila's oiled biceps fondly and running her hand over her mother's chest muscle.
Camellia swallows, and turns. "My daughter, Dahlia Kwan. 62 kilograms. She is... the strongest and most beautiful woman in the world." The best daughter anyone could ask for.
Dahlia turns and proudly throws off her bathrobe. There are murmurs of appreciation at her superb physique. She turns her body and strikes up various poses, suddenly seeming to exude confidence, apparently more than delighted to flaunt her physique as sexily as possible. Several spectators cannot help biting and licking their lips at her highly arousing display. Even Camellia is taken aback, though her heart flutters with delight. What's gotten into her...?
Then the answer comes. Of course... this is family pride. Dahlia is making the statement plain: in no way does she feel inferior to her larger, heavier, older opponent! She is proud and completely unashamed to be Camellia's daughter! And what a performance she is putting up... it feels so odd to Camellia. She has only ever seen Dahlia flex, wink and gyrate her hips like that in the bedroom...
As the applause and whooping start to die away Camellia can see that the display has angered the Steeles. Sheila seems to be gritting her teeth. Feeling upstaged, perhaps...? Infuriated at how uncowed Dahlia seems at the size disparity, at the weight difference?
"All right, enough of that! Let's begin! Come on!" Sylvia barks out suddenly, clapping her hands peremptorily. "Let's go! This way! Squats! May the stronger woman win!"
As they move together towards the first station, the Steeles seem to regain a measure of cockiness, and Sheila looks particularly eager to start. The bar has already been loaded up to 100kg -- 2 plates on each end. The contest will be about Dahlia matching Sheila's lifts. Sheila will set the pace, selecting the weight, and pumping out as many reps as she wants to or can perform. Dahlia must match or exceed the number of reps in order not to lose the round. If she matches the reps, Sheila must then increase the weight and try another set. If Dahlia can exceed Sheila by 1 rep, she wins the round.
This gives Dahlia a slim glimmer of a chance against the larger Sheila. If Sheila goes for a weight that Dahlia can manage well enough, and if Dahlia can manage to eke out just 1 rep more than Sheila, there will be an upset and Dahlia will have outlifted her opponent. To ensure that she takes the point, Sheila must find the right balance and choose a weight that Dahlia will struggle with, and then pump out as many reps as she can so that by her reckoning Dahlia has no chance of matching her.
Sheila puts out her right leg and flexes it, making her thunder thighs bulge powerfully. "Think you can match this, girl?" she laughs.
Then her eyes flash with anger as Dahlia copies her movement and puts her own leg out, matching Sheila flex for flex. What she lacks in muscle mass, she makes up for in definition. "Try me, Sheila."
They glare at each other. Sylvia and Camellia lock gazes as well. The air between them sizzles with tension. The same question is running through the minds of all the watchers: does Dahlia stand a chance? How will this contest go?
And away we go! Cant wait to see how these contests play out. SO glad to have Katietay back and putting out her amazing writing. Thank you!
This will be amazing to see how it plays out. I am sure Dahlia will give Sheila more of a challenge than anyone imagined. Many thanks for sharing. ;)
Quote from: Austin315 on January 20, 2024, 09:11:59 PM
And away we go! Cant wait to see how these contests play out. SO glad to have Katietay back and putting out her amazing writing. Thank you!
I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to go on a weeks-long hiatus right now xD thank you for your kind words all this time and hope you enjoy whatever I manage to put out :p
Round 1: weightlifting, squats.
Burly, powerfully-built Sheila steps up to the power cage wearing her perpetual signature cocky sneer on her face, but she grows serious as she stares at the bar and weights for some moments.
There is no doubt in her mind that she is bigger and therefore stronger than Dahlia, but just how strong is this woman who somehow manages to outmuscle her Sylvia quite consistently? The odds seem to favor Sheila, but she feels the pressure: she absolutely has to crush Dahlia at these strength contests that they've rigged in their favor, or the shame and embarrassment would be extreme. If she goes for 100kg, pumps out 20... and Dahlia does 21, she loses. And it would feel like shit, too. Nobody wants to do 20 reps of 100kg, absolutely nobody. But if she goes for maybe 140kg, a full 3 plates on each side... she knows she can manage maybe 5 or 6 of those. What if... just, what if... somehow, Dahlia finds the willpower to force her muscles to pump out 9? And if she goes for her personal best, 3 reps of 160kg... surely Dahlia would be crushed under that weight, but what if she somehow...
Sheila's fists clench. The girl has already gotten under her skin! She should have more confidence than this, given their size disparity! She snaps at Sylvia more sharply than she intends, instructing her daughter to load it up to 140kg. She will try to crush Dahlia at the strength-training range. If she can force herself to do 7 or so... Dahlia shouldn't be able to manage more than 3 or 4, given her frame. It should give her the victory...
Sheila gets under the bar, bunches her thick trapezius muscles together, braces her entire body, and unracks. The bar across her shoulders bends slightly with the weight of the plates attached. There is a soft gasp from her admirers at the impressive sight. With her daughter's exhortations in her ears, Sheila begins doing the squats.
3... 4... she is cheating a little, not quite going below parallel, but Sylvia is counting the reps off just the same. Camellia angrily points that out, but Sylvia waves a hand dismissively. "That counts!"
They've discussed this before. They can't cheat too overtly, and anyway Sheila shouldn't need to cheat at all... they will play it as straight as they can, both as a matter of face and a matter of personal pride. But if there is a way to try and get some kind of edge... of course they'll take it. Doing this contest in front of an audience has its drawbacks... the other women will want to allow Dahlia to do these slightly easier reps as well, without having to go down to parallel. Otherwise, the win wouldn't be as conclusive and devastating as it should be.
5... and then 6... Sheila expels her breath in a huge grunt of effort as she straightens up, her body trembling slightly. This is usually where she stops. She bares her teeth in a wordless snarl. 1 more, just to drive it home...! She goes down, and her whole body tenses up as she begins the upward push. "Come on, come on, Mom!" Sylvia is shouting at her. There is some encouragement from the crowd too.
"Gnn... gnnnn... gaaaahhhh!" Sheila manages it! 7 reps! Her back twinges warningly, but quickly she racks the bar and steps away, allowing her muscles to relax. That was a near thing, she thinks. Towards the end she was straining just a little too hard with her lower back, and the weight had shifted a bit too far to the front, forcing her to push through the front of her soles rather than her heels...
Still, as she wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand, she and Sylvia share a smug smile. 7 reps of 140kg! Sheila can see the trepidation in the eyes of the Kwans. She particularly enjoys the way Camellia squeezes Dahlia's hand tightly. You know your girl can't match that, Camellia!
Camellia watches as her Dahlia steps under the bar. She looks so... small, compared to how Sheila looked. During their training sessions, she has never seen Dahlia do more than 4 reps of this weight, and that with considerable assistance from Camellia as a spotter for the last rep, with her arms around her daughter's waist. But if she spots Dahlia that way right now, she knows Sylvia will discount the rep.
Dahlia just looks grimly determined as she grips the bar and bunches up her shoulders. Her musculature looks awesome as she prepares to unrack. Her eyes find and meet Camellia's intense gaze. A look of firm resolve enters her eyes.
She unracks. The bar wobbles slightly. She takes a few moments to firm up her footing and brace her pelvis. She takes one deep breath... then another... then another...
Then she goes down, lower than parallel, and up again smoothly -- a picture-perfect rep.
The crowd explodes into applause. There are a few comments on how that rep was smoother and more elegant than Sheila's clumsy ones, comments which make Sheila turn and glare furiously at the audience, though she cannot see who exactly are saying those things. Jasmine Kaur, sitting beside Florence Almeida, is one of them, though, and quite vocal about it. "If this were a proper powerlifting meet, I think Sheila's count might very well be zero," she remarks, getting a few knowing chuckles from those sitting around her. "Dahlia just got a white light, a proper one!"
And then Dahlia does it again, after huffing and puffing a few times before each rep. And again - 3 now. She is emptying her lungs before refilling them, each time. And throughout, her eyes remain locked with her mother's. Camellia has moved to stand in front of her daughter, her eyes alight as she mouths words of encouragement and feeds her daughter strength with her eyes. Dahlia smiles, goes down, and up again, straining about three-quarters of the way up, but managing to straighten. 4 reps! She has already exceeded her personal best!
But there are 4 more to go, if she wants to beat Sheila outright. And suddenly... it is Sylvia hovering in front of her, blocking off the sight of her mother. "You are taking too long in between reps," Sylvia announces loudly, to some boos from the audience. "You gotta hurry it up, or I'll call it!" To the crowd she angrily says, "What? I'm the referee, I can make the ruling! What I say goes! You all could see, my mom didn't take as long in between each rep! What Dahlia's doing is like cheating -- it's like resting too much!"
To Dahlia she reiterates, "What I say goes! Now c'mon -- next rep! If you can!"
Dahlia's eyes are now fixed furiously on her rival counterpart. She has no choice but to accept this specious reasoning. She takes a huge breath... goes taut all over... goes down... and comes up again, slowly now, sticking slightly at the halfway mark, grunting with the strain as she forces out the 5th rep.
"Ok, next! No dawdling! Unless you're tired? You wanna give up, Dahlia? Feel the burn in your legs, huh?" Sylvia's taunting drowns out Camellia's encouragement -- Camellia is trying to stand beside Sylvia but finds herself physically blocked by Sheila. The two mothers are pushing against each other, on the verge of coming to blows.
Seeing Sheila trying to womanhandle her mother galvanizes Dahlia anew. She takes in big air again, goes down, and... "Grrrrrrrraaaaahh!" She practically roars like a lioness as she forces out the 6th rep!
Now the Steeles are staring at her, disbelief warring with anger. 1 more rep, and she can at least force Sheila to redo the squats. She has never done this much before. Her muscles are tired. She is at her limit... how far beyond can she push herself?
She clenches her teeth and keeps her eyes focused on her worried mother. There is some chanting from the crowd... in support of her and her tremendous physical feat... she has already done very well in their estimation, perhaps, by doing 6 to Sheila's 7... but it's not enough. She wants to win. She has to win.
Down she goes... and at the bottom, she tenses, and pushes with every ounce of strength remaining in her legs...
And finds that she cannot rise. She starts shaking all over with the strain. She is stuck. There is not enough power in her thighs.
Sylva and Sheila loom large in front of her, leering down at her with their ugly, sneering faces. "Give up... give it up! It's too much for you! You've lost!" Behind them, over their shoulders, Camellia is calling out encouragement and trying to lock eyes with Dahlia again, but they're deliberately blocking her out.
At last, red-faced and sweating, blinking tears from her eyes, Dahlia is forced to give up. The barbell clangs onto the safety bars. Dahlia awkwardly removes herself from underneath as the Steeles throw their arms in the air, doing a victory lap together. Camellia helps the shaking, trembling Dahlia to her feet and they embrace.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"You did wonderfully. You were amazing."
To crown the insult, Sylvia forces Dahlia to stand in the middle of the mats to her side, while she ceremoniously raises Sheila's arm on her other side, cementing Sheila's victory over Dahlia. "Sheila Steele leads 1-nil!" she crows.
Even though the audience claps obligingly, they are considering what they've just seen: Dahlia is outweighed by almost 20kg... yet almost matched Sheila's best effort, lagging by only a single rep, or perhaps even half a rep. 6 reps of 140kg for her body weight is impressive by any standard. Maybe... just maybe... this contest isn't as uneven as they thought.
The next round, deadlifts, doesn't reinforce this notion, however. It is practically a repeat, even down to the Steeles attempting to physically block off the connection between mother and daughter that the Kwans share. Sheila loads the bar all the way up to 160kg, figuring that she should try to win by outright power since Dahlia seems capable of forcing her muscles to endure prolonged strain. She manages 5 reps of those, sumo-style alternate grip, although the last rep was contentious. Jasmine Kaur in the audience leads the chorus that calls for the last rep to be disqualified, since Sheila didn't quite straighten up all the way, she says. In the event, however, Sylvia insists that the rep was on the level, and the Steeles still have enough support for this to stand.
Dahlia also goes for sumo-style, alternate grip, and everyone is in quiet awe of her sheer muscle definition as she performs 4 deadlifts. She is maybe one of the strongest women in the room, pound-for-pound. And yet, in this contest... it isn't quite enough. At the last rep, with the Steeles taunting her to her face while her mother cheers her on to the side, she strains and strains until she has to let the barbell slip from her fingers. Any harder, and she might have hurt her lower back, she tells her mother while weeping into her shoulder. Camellia strokes the back of her hair while reminding Dahlia firmly that her health and wellness come first, before anything else.
"Even before my freedom," she whispers into her daughter's ear. "Do you understand me? You must not hurt yourself. I will be very disappointed in you if you injure yourself in this contest."
They repeat the humiliating victory ritual, with Sylvia proudly raising Sheila's arm up high while Dahlia bows her head in defeat. 2-0 now, to Sheila. As perhaps everyone had expected.
But Dahlia has come so close, each time. So close... closer than anyone had thought.
How are the bench presses going to go?
The weightlifting was a very close contest as Dahlia is impressively strong. I think Sheila was cheating a little too much on her last 2 lifts in both the squat and dead lift contests. I would have not counted Sheila's final rep in either lift if I was there as an impartial judge. I hope Dahlia wins the bench presses to start her comeback. Thanks for your amazing writing style. ;)
Glad that some of you like these forum post stories so far, both content and format! :) I know this is a bit different from "two middle-aged women with big boobs claw each other up over a man", but well, I don't really know any other forum where these stories can belong. :p At some point I might compile these posts and update my Literotica, if I ever get the time for more than sporadic posting.
Florence Almeida wriggles in her seat -- Jasmine's insistent rubbing feels really good, though she's trying not to admit it. "What do you think so far?" she says, trying to change the subject (and trying to distract herself from the insistent pressure on her clit). "I mean... no way Dahlia can win this, can she?"
"Hard to say... all depends on her and her strategy," Jasmine replies. She reaches around Florence's shoulder and arm to squeeze her boob, and smooches Florence's flushed cheek. "But from what I've seen so far, I'm not hopeful at all. Dahlia's a real blockhead."
"How... nnngghhh..." Florence pauses as a fresh shudder of pleasure washes over her. "Gnn... ungh... how do you mean?"
"Simple. She should've thrown the squats and bust out the stops for the deadlifts. Then next, she should throw the bench press, and then go with skill and technique for the arm wrestling. She'd not only stand a chance, but she might even take the lead."
"Deadlifts...? Why?" Florence is interested, despite herself. "Gnn... if you were... ungh... dammit, I can't think straight..."
"Use your words, Flo," Jasmine chuckles wickedly. Florence's fingers rubbing her moist labia are having nowhere near the same effect as she is having on her panting victim. She is effortlessly winning this impromptu sexfight.
"Ah, fuck... unngh... If you were in Dahlia's position and facing a much stronger opponent in a contest like this what would you do," Florence says, getting the words out in a rush.
"Strategy. The key is strategy. Squats -- you can't do much there, you're crushed under the bar, the stronger woman wins. Deadlifts -- we've just seen it. Sheila's technique fucking sucks. With her size she should be doing at least 8 of those. She's weak for her size. Dahlia's technique is much more polished, which means better lifts... which means she could have actually done 5 reps, if she'd just conserved her energy by throwing the squats. Making a token effort.
"You see... in this contest, Sheila actually has the disadvantage. She has to anticipate and guess how strong her opponent is. She doesn't get a do-over. It's once and done. So if she guesses wrong, she loses a point, just like that. You saw how close Dahlia was to actually matching her 5 reps. With Dahlia's grit, and superior technique, 6 was possible, if she really went for it.
"Now we'll see how stupid Dahlia is. I think she's pretty dumb. I think she's going to do her very best in each and every contest with Sheila, which means she's going to come up short every time. Just because her mom's watching," Jasmine sneers. "She's not fucking thinking. Bench pressing against an obviously stronger opponent is a wash, especially with a biased referee. And if she really pushes herself to maximum effort... how the fuck is she gonna arm wrestle, if she's already exhausted every muscle in her upper body?"
"We'll see now, I guess. Sheila's loading up the bar..."
"How about I make you cum just as Dahlia fails her last rep..." Jasmine whispers wickedly into Florence's ear.
Sorry, that's all I have time for today... you can probably tell I've been watching quite a bit of anime lately. ;D
I am looking forward to the next part of this amazing story. I wonder if Sheila will under estimate Dahlia in the bench press contest as I think Sheila is beginning to struggle with her lifts even with Sylvia being a biased referee allowing Sheila to cheat. Guess we will have to wait and see what happens. ;)
So sorry... this has been a seriously busy month for me! I will return as soon as I can :D
Sheila loads the bar up to 90kg. It seems she's going to try and go for more reps with a safer weight, but presumably a weight she thinks Dahlia will struggle with. Has she gauged Dahlia's pushing strength and endurance accurately...?
Then Sylvia faces the Kwans, hands on hips, and announces, "To forestall any accusation of cheating... which obviously we won't do, and haven't done, because we don't need to... but just to shut some of you up..." Here she glares at Jasmine briefly before turning back to her rivals. "We'll spot for each other. Camellia, you'll spot for my mom. And I will spot you, Dahlia." Her grin is wicked and salacious.
There is a minor uproar in the crowd, and Dahlia clenches her fists with indignation. "I want to spot my own daughter," Camellia declares.
"So that you can help her cheat?" Sylvia shoots back. "I'm trusting you with my mom here! It's all fair! And anyway, what I say goes!"
Most of the audience just shrugs at this new stipulation -- probably they figure it wouldn't matter very much anyway. They can all see if any cheating is going on. And it does seem to be fair in a way: some of them had been suspecting that Sylvia would use her hands to give her mom just a tad too much assistance. Sylvia can't really work any shenaxxxxns on Dahlia in front of everyone... or can she?
Jasmine's eyes have narrowed. "This is definitely not looking good for Dahlia. Poor girl. All those muscles, and yet, it's like she's coming into this duel with one hand tied behind her back..."
"What do you mean?" Florence doesn't get it.
"We'll see."
Sheila gets under the bar, wriggling in position. Camellia stands over her and gazes down at the rippling chest muscles, ridged abdominals and spread-out breasts of her hated foe. She can still remember all too well what it was like to be crushed up against that torso... to lose against these muscles... to have that ugly face -- the ugliness is more on the inside than the outside, of course -- leering at her suffering...
"Ready, Camellia? I should start calling you Cammy," Sheila says as she unracks the barbell smoothly. Her muscles flex as she braces the weight with her strong arms. "Easier around the house. Good name for a house servant."
"Hands at the ready," barks Sylvia. "If you fail to spot my mom properly, Dahlia gets disqualified!"
Unwillingly, Camellia reaches out and puts her hands just under the bar, with a bit of space in between. She finds herself hoping somehow that these impressive, thick muscles in front of her will somehow fail unexpectedly. Maybe a cramp, maybe Sheila strains the wrong way...
Sheila begins pumping out the reps, and Camellia's hope dies. She is so strong, so confident, with this weight... 8 reps of 90kg are done, smooth and easy. And the form is good too, if a bit amateurish. Sheila mostly ends up pushing with her shoulders a bit more than she should, with a high elbow angle. The arch of her back and the position of her feet doesn't make for good channelling of whole-body strength. But right now, it doesn't seem as though her form is hurting her at all. She takes a couple of deep breaths, then resumes. 9, 10.
Stop already, Camellia thinks, biting her lip. Stop! Enough!
But no. Sheila has clearly been training for this. Down and up the bar goes, 11. And again... but noticeably slower now... 12. "Gnnn. Gnnnnnn." Sheila's grunting and panting are loud. Has she reached her limit...?
She goes for 13. The bar goes down, and comes up... and stops, about halfway. It wobbles. "Guh... guh!" Sheila is struggling visibly.
"Come on, Cammy!" Sylvia yells furiously, pointing a warning finger. "Spot!"
Camellia complies, ignoring the deliberate rudeness, and helps Sheila complete the rest of the rep, racking the bar. Sheila slumps, letting her arms hang limply by her sides, but she wears a look of triumph. Sylvia is laughing and clapping too. Dahlia stands off to the side, her face showing only calm composure. But she catches her mother's gaze, and for a moment they are linked by Camellia's worry and concern, and Dahlia's own anxiety.
12 reps of 90kg! Dahlia has only been able to do 10 of 80kg on her best days. She can go up to 5, or even 6, for 100kg -- she is fantastically strong for her weight class. But 12 of 90kg... that is a different kind of challenge.
Sheila sits up, stretching her arms and chest. "Unnhhhh... nothing like a good chest workout," she says, swinging her arms back and forth so that her pumped, swollen chest muscles bulge powerfully. She stands up, gives her daughter a high-five, and stands to the side, waiting for Dahlia to take her turn under the bar.
Sylvia moves to replace Camellia at the head of the bench. Camellia goes over to stand across from Sheila. As Dahlia prepares to get into position, Camellia cannot restrain herself and reaches forward, taking hold of Dahlia's hand. Dahlia turns and smiles reassuringly at her mother. They both lean in and share a long, loving kiss.
"All right, break it up. Come on, hurry up and get over here. There'll be plenty of time to make out once you're in our house serving us," Sylvia snaps. "Then again, maybe we won't give you all that much time with each other... heh heh heh..." she sxxxxxxx unpleasantly.
Dahlia composes herself as she gets under the bar. She is not a professional powerlifter, but she knows the form. Legs wide apart, tucked in tightly. Back arched for maximum stability...
"Butt on the bench," Sylvia barks. "Just like my mom did. No hovering butt in this contest, Dahlia! Don't think to cheat as if this were some kind of powerlifting meet! We're doing regular bench presses here!"
Fine, Dahlia thinks. She never usually lifts her butt off the bench anyway. But this is just another niggling little example of how the Steeles will find ways and means, even if they think they have an undeniable edge, to make things that much harder for their opponents in a myriad small petty ways...
She grips tight, takes in a huge breath, and unracks. Her muscles bulge impressively all over her body. The weight feels all right. Heavy, but manageable.
"Bar has to touch the skin for the rep to count," Sylvia announces loudly as Dahlia begins. A petty attempt at distraction. Dahlia focuses on doing the reps. 4... 5...
"Straighten the arms fully at the top! Just a reminder!" Sylvia yells. Her hands follow the bar's movements, with plenty of space in between.
Looking at Sylvia and Dahlia in this position, Camellia feels her skin crawl. This is nothing she would ever have wanted -- the four of them, training partners for each other? The very thought is horrific. She doesn't trust Sylvia one bit with her daughter's safety. She inches closer to the bench, as Dahlia pumps out the 6th, 7th and 8th rep... stopping for a big breath to reset the air in her lungs with every rep now...
"Don't even think about it, Cammy," Sheila says in a low voice. She has suddenly moved to be beside Camellia. She takes hold of Camellia's right hand with her left before Camellia can react, and grips tightly, as if they were simply holding hands like friends do. "No interference."
"How low can you stoop?" Camellia whispers angrily as Dahlia pauses for breath. The barbell is trembling slightly. "This is about my daughter's safety!"
"Your girl is perfectly safe, Cammy... I don't want to beat her with a workout injury," Sheila chuckles as Sylvia begins haranguing Dahlia about taking too long in between reps. "No... I'll be crushing her into submission with my own bare hands, Camellia Kwan. When I slam her arm down right in front of your eyes... that's how I'll beat you, Camellia!"
Dahlia is now struggling with the 10th rep. She has to strain visibly, grunting loudly and desperately, before she can straighten her arms fully. It doesn't help that when her arms are almost straight, Sylvia is still yelling, "Not yet! Not yet! Straighten! Not a full rep!" such that Dahlia has to really push before Sylvia will begrudgingly accept the rep.
10 of 90kg. More than she has ever done. 3 more to go, if she wants to win. 2 more, if she wants to force Sheila into another set.
She turns her gaze to the side and sees the two moms standing side by side, holding hands. She can see how unwilling Camellia is, how Camellia is unable to jerk away and free herself from Sheila's grip. She can see the silent pleading in her mother's eyes.
Do it for Mom...!
She breathes in, tenses all over, lets the bar down, and practically makes it bounce up. It sticks halfway.
"Unnnnghh... unnngghhhhh!"
Her face, already flushed, goes crimson from the effort. The veins in her shoulders stand out starkly. Her teeth are bared. It's too heavy... she can't finish it... she has to find the strength from somewhere... how she wishes her mother were at her side, how she wishes it weren't Sylvia's sweaty crotch she smells now, but rather her mother's familiar scent... how she wishes her mother could give her an extra push by using her fingers on her pussy...
The bar wobbles and shakes, tilting to one side, and then the other. Meanwhile, Sylvia half-crouches over her struggling rival. She is laughing gleefully, her hands not very close to the bar -- certainly not close enough for real safety. "Come on, Dahlia," she laughs mockingly. "Come on, all you, all you. Use your muscles, Dahlia! Aren't you proud of them? Huh? You're always saying how proud you are of them, how strong you think they are. Come on, push, Dahlia, push! Push! All you, sis, all you!"
"The idiot does look sexy while she's straining like that," Jasmine murmurs. Her face is flushed and her lips are parted with arousal. She grabs Florence's hand forcefully and guides Florence's fingers to her clitoris, pressing it hard. "Look at that straining body..."
"And look at her poor, frantic mother," Florence laughs, pointing at the distraught Camellia with her free hand. Camellia is trying to rush forward and grab hold of the barbell herself, but Sheila is holding her back.
"I'm warning you, stay back! Or she forfeits!" Sylvia tells the teary-eyed Camellia. "I'm spotting, don't worry! See? I'm just giving her a chance to show her real strength. Isn't that what you both want? Come on, Dahlia! I believe in you! I'm not helping, it's really all you! Hahahahahaha!"
The bar starts moving... but down, not up. Dahlia's strength is failing. Her arms are shaking violently now, and it is painfully clear to everyone watching: she is not going to be able to complete the rep. Most of the women's hearts are going out to Dahlia in this moment: the overtones of the spectacle cannot be ignored. Brave, strong Dahlia has pushed herself beyond her limits to try and match the much larger Sheila in strength contests, and has come up short each time, coming heartbreakingly close.
But now, a more nefarious thing is happening...
"Come on, come on," Sylvia is shouting gleefully. Camellia is now struggling against Sheila, who has hooked and locked her arms behind her to prevent her from moving forward to help Dahlia. Dahlia is still struggling to push the weight up with the last dregs of her strength, but eventually her arms give out and she has to let the bar rest against her sternum, just below her breasts.
And still Sylvia does not lift a finger to help rack the weight. "Hey, come on, don't be a wuss," she scolds Dahlia. "It ain't over till it's over! Don't give up!" She bends over Dahlia's suffering face, grinning evilly. "Come on, Dahlia! Your mom's watching you! Push, Dahlia, push! You can do it!"
Dahlia does not waste energy on a reply; she is trying not to let the bar dig into her flesh. She is well and truly pinned beneath it now, and has to exert all her pushing muscles just to relieve the pressure on her body.
The calls begin to get louder from the audience. "Let her up! Get that off her! What do you both think you're doing!" Roughly half the audience is sadistically enjoying Dahlia's discomfiture; the other half seems to have decided that this is where the Steeles show themselves to be real villainesses.
Gauging the outcry to have reached a certain level, Sheila catches Sylvia's eye and waggles her eyebrows. Sylvia nods quickly.
"Fine, fine, loser," she cries out gaily as she reaches down to hook the bar with her wrists, taking the weight on her forearm. "Come on... come on, Dahlia, the least you could do is rack it yourself, don't make me do all the work..." She helps so little that Dahlia is practically forcing out one last assisted rep before the bar is finally, mercifully, put back into its proper place with a clang.
Dahlia Kwan lies slumped and exhausted on the bench, all four of her limbs limp, as if she has just been defeated in a fight. Which, in a sense, she has. Sheila at last releases Camellia from her pinioning hold, and Camellia is immediately at her daughter's side, rubbing and kneading Dahlia's sore, aching muscles all over the front of her torso, sobbing and weeping with tears of helpless fury. Without evincing even the slightest sense of shame, Sylvia raises her mother's arm and they do a small victory parade around the room, looking for all the world like they just won a beauty pageant.
"Mmmf," Jasmine says, and begins cumming. "Unnnngh," she grunts with pleasure, pressing Florence's fingers hard against her clit. "Just as I thought."
"Mmhmm. Mmhmm." Florence Almeida is very close to orgasm herself, rubbing her pussy furiously with the free hand Jasmine is allowing her to have. "She really... was pushing so hard... even to the end... what an absolute fool," she gasps.
Sheila 3, Dahlia 0. Sheila has won at each of the 3 big lifts.
And now... Sheila stands at the arm wrestling table in front of the inverted Y-rack. Sylvia comes and stands, arms akimbo, in front of the Kwans -- Camellia looking up resentfully, eyes blazing; Dahlia blinking and starting to sit up with her mother's assistance. Her arm, chest and shoulder muscles all look incredibly pumped... maybe even over-strained...
"All right, come on, enough rest. It's time for the next contest! And Camellia... it's time for you to take your position!" She points imperiously at the Y-rack.
The jaws of the trap are closing. This is how Dahlia will enter the arm wrestling contest: with thoroughly exhausted and strained upper-body muscles, with hands that are still trembling with fatigue, with a slightly sore lower back from all the strain on her entire core. Standing against her: thick, muscular Sheila Steele, her mother's nemesis, who outweighs her by 18kg...
While Sheila swings her thick gorilla arms around in circles, stretching and limbering her relatively-fresh muscles, Dahlia and Camellia walk hand in hand with quiet dignity towards the inverted-Y rack. Sylvia gestures impatiently for Camellia to take her position as the human prize.
Mother and daughter, with an arm around each other's waist, turn to each other for one last long, lingering look into each other's eyes.
Dahlia raises her right arm and flexes her still-pumped muscles. Her biceps pop. "I won't let them take you," she says softly.
Camellia squeezes her daughter's strong arm lovingly. Their lips meet in a long, deep kiss...
Sylvia takes hold of Camellia's shoulder. "To the rack, now! The next round's starting!"
Angrily, Camellia shakes Sylvia's hand off. But for now, all the Kwans can do is to glare helplessly at the sneering Steeles. Slowly, Camellia steps away from Dahlia and moves towards the rack on which she will be strung up. She tries to move as slowly as she can. Every second that passes is an additional moment of rest for poor Dahlia's sore, aching muscles...
But Sylvia grabs her by the arm and drags her over. She can feel how strong Sylvia is -- not for the first time, she wonders if her rival's daughter is in fact stronger than her. Could she take Sylvia in a duel...? Part of her doesn't really want to find out. Sylvia does feel very strong -- she grabs hold of Camellia's wrists and yanks them upwards, pushing them into place and snapping the manacles across them. As she does so she leans in close against Camellia's body. Their breasts press together.
Hers might be slightly bigger than mine... both breast and muscle...
As if thinking the same, Sylvia gives Camellia a sly, smug look and sways her hips slightly, making her breasts brush across the older woman's. "I think I could take you," she says, giggling slightly. "I can't wait to find out." In a louder voice she commands Camellia to spread her legs, so she can lock them into place. Then she steps away to enjoy the sight of her handiwork.
Beautiful, elegantly-muscled Camellia Kwan is now trapped in one of the most humiliating poses conceivable: arms straight up and together, legs splayed just a little more than shoulder width apart. Her enemies have full access to any part of her body. And only Dahlia's strength stands between them and her.
Sheila moves over to stand right in front of Camellia, looking down slightly -- the rack makes it so that Camellia loses an inch or so of height, for an additional feeling of diminution and humiliation. Slowly, a big smile breaks across Sheila's face.
"Take a good, hard look at this, Cammy," she says, as she raises her right arm and slowly curls it into a powerful biceps flex, right in front of Camellia's eyes. She draws it out, slowly making her veined muscles swell. "Look at the muscles I'm gonna use to crush your girl. She doesn't stand a chance against this arm right here, Cammy. Not a chance. Ain't that right? Huh? She can't beat these muscles."
Camellia swallows hard. "She can, and she will." Her voice shakes slightly.
"I'm going to savor every moment of it. When I press her hand down, right in front of you, winning this whole contest. And in future, my Sylvia will have her turn. After today, you'll both never taste victory, ever again." She pumps her right arm some more, causing her biceps to bulge even more threateningly. "Your lives are going to be one... long... defeat. Losers."
Camellia blinks, and tears roll down her cheeks. She desperately wants to believe Dahlia still has a fighting chance. But that monstrous arm... Sheila's huge arm...
The table is right in front of her. Dahlia is to her left, Sheila to her right -- so that if Dahlia loses, it will be right beneath Camellia's sorrowful gaze. Sheila puts up her arm first, smirking at her opponent, while gripping the handle with her left hand. Everyone is silent as Dahlia steps forward, takes hold of her handle, and props her right arm up.
She looks the picture of feminine strength, with her broad shoulders and tapering ridged back, her flaring lats and defined arms, her corded forearms, her bulging thighs and calves, her sculpted glutes. The thought crosses the mind of more than a few of the watchers: this looks like a muscle princess facing off against an ogress, or an angel facing off against a stronger demoness, or a brave defender of humanity facing off against a larger and stronger alien invader... or something along those lines.
Their thumbs hook. Their fingers wrap. Their forearms bulge as their grips tighten.
Sheila's fingers dig painfully into the back of Dahlia's hand. Dahlia takes it silently, trying to give back as much as she is taking, but her lips part and she emits a soft little grunt of pain. Sheila's lips quirk in a small secret smile of triumph.
Sylvia busies herself rudely shoving Dahlia's shoulders and elbow around, making a show of ensuring that both their postures are correct. Everyone can see that she's being a bit lax with her own mother. Not that anyone thinks it would make a real difference.
"How long do you think she'll last, Jasmine?" Florence wonders, as she takes out her big "finisher" vibrator. "I say... 3 seconds."
Instead of replying, Jasmine seems to be studying the two women intently, her eyes moving up and down every line of muscle on their bodies, her gaze lingering on their faces in profile.
"I'm just gonna get started now. I'm so close," Florence moans as she puts the vibrator to her pussy. "I want to time it so I cum right as Dahlia loses..."
But Jasmine is now slowly, leisurely rubbing her own pussy, sitting in a relaxed posture, seemingly in no hurry. "Suit yourself. Heh... this girl... is full of surprises."
"Huh?"
Sylvia puts a hand on the clasped hands. "Ready..." Then she whips her hand away. "Go!"
Taut muscles jerk into action. Sheila immediately starts winning, pulling Dahlia about a third of the way down.
The cords of muscle across Dahlia's entire chest are standing out starkly like steel cables. She is already at maximum exertion: every muscle on her entire body is standing out, not just her bulging arm. Her pulsing neck veins are visible as well. Her face is a rictus of agonized effort.
But of course, everyone thinks. She's already so tired from straining at the bench press. This match is just a way for Sheila to torture Dahlia for a bit in front of Camellia, and for Sylvia's sadistic viewing pleasure as well. It's so heartrending to see Dahlia push herself so hard in this hopeless matchup...
Their hands go down to about halfway. 3 seconds have passed. "Damn, guessed wrong," Florence mutters. Her eyes are glazed as she presses her buzzing vibrator to her crotch. "Gnnn... so close... almost..."
Jasmine is leaning forward, staring intently like everyone else. "That's right. Lock that wrist..." she murmurs.
In less than 10 seconds, Dahlia's arm is almost all the way down. Her hand hovers just a couple of inches from the table pad. Just a couple of inches away from the crushing of their hopes, and Camellia's total despair.
Their shaking arms slow to a stop. 10 seconds... 15... 20...
Sylvia moves over to stand beside the captive Camellia. Mom is such a good dominatrix, dragging this out like that. Just look at the way Dahlia is so desperately straining... with the last ounces of her pathetic strength... trembling all over... eyes squeezed shut... teeth clenched so tightly her jaw might snap... looking like she'll break any moment... I love seeing her like this. I can do that to her, too. I will absolutely do that to her. I will destroy her every day that we're together. Make up for all those times she somehow got fluke victories against me...
She reaches out and cups Camellia's pubic mound. "Enjoying this as much as we are?" she laughs softly, licking the helpless Camellia's ear. "Maybe there's time for me to make you cum before my mom lets Dahlia lose. What a good idea she has, to drag this out..."
Camellia, intent on the battle in front of her, does not reply, except to hiss slightly as Sylvia's fingers intrude into the folds of her womanhood.
Half a minute has passed. The watching women are all now staring intently, each of them trying to bring themselves off in their own way, like Florence with her vibrator. Florence is edging. "I'm right there..." she moans. "Come on, Sheila, do it!"
"It'll be a while yet," Jasmine breathes, using her fingers on herself but at a moderate pace. "Mmm... this is incredible... I love seeing this... didn't think I would... an actual arm war... mmm..."
Arm war? Florence thinks. What? Dahlia, against Sheila, right now, like this? But it's Jasmine saying it... She frowns and looks closer.
The cocky, complacent, confident smile on Sheila's face has faded slightly, replaced by a look of growing concentration. She still has a massive, apparently insurmountable advantage, pressing down with her thick arm and shoulder; the visual impression is that of a boulder of muscle pressing down on Dahlia's shaking hand.
But Dahlia, gasping and grunting, sucking in rapid breaths through clenched teeth, is somehow still holding out. Nobody could possibly strain their entire bodies this intensely for this long... almost a minute now... yet Dahlia seems to be doing it.
Gradually it dawns on every watcher in the room: Sheila isn't finishing Dahlia off yet... because she can't.
She begins twisting and turning slightly, trying to use leverage and momentum to bring Dahlia down the rest of the way. Dahlia seems to be on the verge of losing... yet she grimly holds on, managing to keep her hand just shy of defeat. Her arm muscles flex as powerfully as they ever have, perhaps more.
"Hold on, Dahlia. My darling. Hold on." Camellia calls out softly to her struggling daughter, her voice tremulous. "You can do it. Hold on. Keep going. Hold on."
Two minutes now, much longer than anyone thought Dahlia could hold out. It's obvious now that Sheila isn't deliberately dragging this out, at least not anymore. She may have wanted to at first, but now the choice isn't hers to make. Both she and Dahlia have started to sweat. She is leaning in now, trying to bring more of her shoulder into the action, so she can press Dahlia's hand down with the weight of her upper body muscle.
But Dahlia somehow does not give way.
"How... how is she doing this?" Florence gasps. She has already cum at the stimulating sight, but the match isn't ending yet. She moves the vibrator away to give herself a bit of rest. "She's stronger than I thought."
"Not just that... she managed to do it." Jasmine grunts with pleasure as she continues fingering herself. "I saw her do it from the beginning, but couldn't quite believe it would work. Maybe she got lucky, maybe Sheila got too complacent..."
"Do what?"
"Lock her whole body. Sheila's technique really sucks, at pretty much everything. That's why I can beat her, myself," Jasmine laughs, a little breathlessly. "Didn't you notice, Sheila gripped the handle like it wasn't really anything, not even part of the table. She might as well have been diddling herself with her left hand. Dahlia gripped her handle as if her life depended on it. Which it does, in a way. She's been compressing all her muscles, you see? Pushing inwards, constantly."
"Oh. Wow," Florence gasps.
"Yeah. She's been able to use her entire upper body against Sheila's arm. And her wrist work is flawless. She's locked their hands so well, even though Sheila's grip must hurt. That's given her much more leverage. They're in an arm war now. She's still disadvantaged. But she has an actual chance. It's attrition now. Let's see how long they can last... let's see whose muscles give out first..."
Sylvia has stopped fingering Camellia and is now glowering at their shaking hands. "C'mon, Mom! Stop fucking around. Finish her!"
Sheila only grunts and growls in reply. They are both grunting and growling, hissing and snarling. Sheila is leaning forward and to the side almost all the way now. Dahlia maintains her square posture but is braced in the opposite direction, recruiting every muscle in her body in the heroic effort to hold Sheila off.
"Just a little more and I can call it, Mom," Sylvia says. "Come on! Just a bit more!"
"Fight, Dahlia! Fight! Hold her! Hold her!" Camellia cries out.
The strain on Dahlia's arm is terrible. How much longer can she hold out...?
Wow, your writing style is a amazing in describing the intensity of this strength contest. Dahlia has maintained the best form in each challenge and it seems that Sheila might not prevail in arm wrestling as it will come down to who's muscle will hold out. ;)
Oh wow... now she is Slace Cammy ;) i like this part
Good thing everyone in my alternate reality has been genetically modified to never suffer from rhabdo. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure Dahlia would be suffering from it by now. :p
It is the longest minute Dahlia has ever experienced. Longer even than the minute she spent watching her mother slowly succumb to Sheila's camel clutch. Her entire body shakes and trembles with the immense strain. She forces her arm to keep flexing, keeping her hand just a fraction of an inch above the pad, unaware that a trickle of blood has come out from her nostril.
That trickle sends Camellia into a near frenzy, but there is nothing she can do except watch her brave warrior daughter push herself beyond her limits.
And then suddenly, Sheila flags. Just like that, in the space of a second, their arms go back up to the center, though Sheila's body is still tilted off to the side. A moment more... and Dahlia is over the top. Sheila's arm muscles wobble... and go flaccid. Her resistance crumbles. Dahlia slams her arm down decisively. Sheila's hand smacks into the pad with an audible thud. The whole room goes silent with shock for a few seconds.
Dahlia has won.
The whoops and cheers are deafening. At least half the audience seems to have taken Dahlia's side, or at the least they are simply thrilled at the unexpected upset. Against all the odds... fighting back somehow from the very brink of total defeat... Dahlia's arm has outmuscled Sheila's.
Sheila is slumped over the table, head resting on her own defeated biceps, barely standing. She is hyperventilating through her mouth, seemingly unable to get enough oxygen into her lungs even with her huge gulping breaths. Dahlia isn't in much better shape, arms limp and upper body completely slack, mouth hanging open as she pants, dazed with fatigue. Her tongue darts out and she tastes the blood -- a thin trickle that seems to be stopping.
Sylvia has her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Camellia's face is only now starting to break out in the joyous radiant recognition of what has just happened right in front of her. Her daughter has won the arm wrestling match.
Dahlia raises her head, and meets her mother's gaze. Sheila yanks her arm away and staggers backwards, clutching feebly at her right biceps and trying to rub some life back into it. Tiredly, Dahlia walks over to her captive strung-up mother and, ignoring Sylvia standing by the side, wraps her still-trembling arms around her mother in a loving embrace.
Heedless of the hubbub all around them, uncaring of how Sylvia rushes to Sheila's side and asks incredulous questions that Sheila has no answer for except to snarl that her arm is cramping, mother and daughter kiss as deeply and fiercely as they can. Camellia breaks the kiss momentarily. "Darling... your nose..." She uses her own tongue to clean the blood off Dahlia's upper lip.
Dahlia chuckles and shakes her head slightly. "Just strained too hard. I'm fine."
"Dizzy?"
"Just the strain. I'll be fine, Mom... in a few minutes..."
"Dahlia... my love... you did it."
She has, indeed. Instead of a crushing 4-0 humiliation followed by a BDSM dungeon session, it is now 3-1. The audience is in equal parts infuriated and exhilarated at Dahlia's magnificent feat.
"How... how?" Florence whispers as she comes down slowly from the high of her climax, her vibrator hanging limply in her hand.
"Just plain outlasted her. Look..." Jasmine gestures. She too is breathing hard from an orgasm, and sweat beads her powerfully-muscled arm as she points. "Sheila seems to have cramped up. Low muscle endurance. And we can hear her snorting like a cow from here. Lung capacity weak. VO2 max probably lower than ever. Definitely not clean living."
"But the weight difference... the strength difference..."
"Weren't as great as we thought, maybe. Still... can she pull it off again, with her left arm? Or is this just prolonging the inevitable?" Jasmine voices the question on everyone's minds.
While Sylvia does her best to massage her mother's right arm, Sheila bows her head, avoiding everyone's gaze. The hunch of her shoulders practically radiates shame and rage. Meanwhile, Camellia and Dahlia continue weeping as they kiss and hug -- or rather, while Dahlia presses herself against her mother's body and tries to rub the soreness out of Camellia's stretched shoulders.
"I'm so proud of you."
"I'm going to get you off this thing, Mom. I promise."
And with that, Dahlia peels herself unwillingly away from her mother and takes her position at the table once more. She grips the handle on the right side and props up her left arm. Glaring over at the Steeles, she calls out her challenge.
"Come on, Sheila, you bitch! Let's hold hands some more!"
The audience gasps as one at this challenge, and the amazing sight of the smaller Dahlia throwing down the gauntlet like this.
"Mom, wait, get some rest, let her wait up there a bit more, I can call for a recess," Sylvia hisses.
Sheila shoves her daughter aside and stomps back to the table. With a wordless growl, she raises her left arm and brings down her elbow hard on the pad, and grabs hold of Dahlia's hand with a vengeance.
Jasmine's eyes are on fire. "Well done, Dahlia. Maybe the first smart thing I've ever seen you do," she murmurs. "Yes... yes, this could work."
"You think Dahlia can beat her on stamina," Florence says breathlessly, already getting her vibrator ready for another round. "She's not letting Sheila get a moment's rest."
"It's just sheer endurance and bloody willpower now," Jasmine says, practically purring with pleasure, as Sheila and Dahlia begin their left-hand match with no preamble or signal from Sylvia. Sylvia moves to stand beside her mother, eyes fixed on their clasped hands which are already shaking violently. "Just two women, flexing their tired arms against each other, seeing whose muscles give out first. Ooh, I love this..."
"Ooh, look, Jasmine... Sheila still seems to be stronger," Florence moans as Sheila starts taking the upper hand. Camellia's expression grows even more anxious, and Sylvia bares her teeth with feral glee as she exhorts her straining mother to redouble her efforts. "Dahlia's still struggling... she looks so sexy all over, when she struggles like that..."
"Her right arm is still far too tired," Jasmine observes, grunting softly and rhythmically as she rubs herself. "She can't grip it as tightly as she did with her left, just now... she's not managing to recruit enough of her upper body... it's mostly arm against arm now, with a bit of chest and shoulder and back... unnngh... she was so close... but it looks like she'll lose this one..."
All around the room, the watching women are all more or less thinking the same thing. Right before Camellia's eyes, Dahlia's entire flexed body trembles as her arm is slowly but surely outmuscled, the strain on the stretched bulging biceps steadily increasing.
No... no... I've got to be stronger than this... I've got to pull harder... I can't lose... can't lose, after all this... Frantic thoughts fill Dahlia's mind. Sheila's arm feels so dishearteningly strong...
"Nice try, bitch," Sylvia hisses from the other side of the table, where she's put her hands supportively around her mother's shoulders, abandoning even the slightest pretense of impartiality as the "referee". "But now you're finished. There was no way you could've beaten my mom, except she had muscle cramps. No such thing now, Dahlia. You're just not strong enough to win."
Sheila is sucking in rapid breaths through her clenched teeth, but she grins as she flexes her powerful arm, pulling poor Dahlia's hand down lower... lower... lower...
WOW that was an impressive strategy by Dahlia to wear down Sheila's right arm endurance to get the win. Can Dahlia do it again with her left arm as Sheila did not take any time to recover her oxygen level? ;)
It's getting so hot in here, i really love the live commentary of florence and jasmine although i loved it even more if they had their own betting and fighting going on as well. I'm still team Kwan but i'm not sure this win is enough. great job by Great katietay as always.
Dahlia's muscles are so, so tired. She has never been this tired. She has been training and preparing for this day with her mother, pushing herself each and every time to the very brink, and then just a little further beyond. Each time, her body has responded well, and she has slowly but steadily improved both strength and endurance. The post-workout sessions and, yes, the post-workout milk drinks have helped tremendously. Been crucial, even. There is nothing as nourishing to Dahlia's body as the milk produced by Camellia's own body.
But she hasn't ever strained her muscles this hard, this long. Perhaps they should have tried harder to procure a man to wrestle with, like Sheila did before her fight with Camellia. It isn't within every woman's means, though. They have tried their best, mother and daughter both. They have given this long feud their all, and more. Is this really how it ends -- Dahlia's left arm forced down as her chained mother helplessly looks on?
Not as long as there is even an ounce of strength left in her, Dahlia decides. Most of it is in her left arm, now. Her right arm muscles are barely responding. Her chest is starting to slacken, and so is her core. She can't bring her legs to bear in an arm wrestling match. It's just her left arm against Sheila's. And Sheila is winning.
Sheila's ugly face, with the slightly distended nose, looms in front of her own. It seems Sheila is never not sneering, except just then, when Dahlia somehow managed to pull off the upset win. How she wished she could just punch Sheila's face in. So many times, they have both been forced to see that ugly, almost orange face wreathed in a smile of triumph, those stone-hard eyes gleaming with gleeful malice. Especially when Sheila had forcefully mounted her... when her face was cradled in her mother's lap...
The memory sends a fresh spasm of hatred through Dahlia, but the brief surge of fury is not enough. Dahlia recovers maybe a fraction of an inch, but then goes down again. Her hand is now so close to the pad... just a couple of inches more and Sylvia will call it, Sylvia is bound to call it even before her skin properly touches the rubber. Her arm is so, so tired... her muscles are so, so sore... Sylvia keeps hissing at her over Sheila's shoulder to give up, to give in... and she pulls, and pulls, but Sheila's big arm is just too strong...
A soft grunting catches her attention -- it's her mom. Dahlia turns her gaze slightly to the side. Camellia's eyes are fixed on her; not on her arm, not on their clasped hands, but on her face. Their gazes meet. Camellia grunts again. She is visibly straining against her cuffs, trying in vain to get free, heedless of the metal digging into her flesh at the wrists and ankles. Her muscles are popping all over. She isn't thinking about the rules of the contest or any such thing. She is simply, reflexively, being a mother. Her daughter is in trouble, right in front of her. She has to get free somehow and help. Dahlia knows that's what Camellia is being driven by at this moment.
Something rises up from within Dahlia at the sight of her desperately straining mother. She sucks in a huge breath, and expels it in a huge grunt that almost sounds like a roar. Their trembling arms move upwards. Dahlia begins pulling Sheila back up.
But Sheila snarls and growls, and pulls her back down to the verge of defeat.
Dahlia's eyes remain fixed on Camellia's taut muscles along her arms, across her bare chest, around her strong supple waist. Slowly, she pulls Sheila back up a few inches.
Sheila leans in and tries to press Dahlia back down.
The veins along both women's muscled arms are fully engorged. Back and forth, up and down they go. Beads of sweat dot their whole bodies. Their shoulders heave with each breath they gulp into their lungs.
And then, bit by bit, everyone can see it. Sheila is slumping again. So is Dahlia, but their arms are slowly, ever so slowly, moving back upright. Dahlia's biceps are slowly outmuscling Sheila's, in the most excruciating comeback anyone there has ever seen. The cheering and yelling are deafening -- most people love rooting for the underdog. And there have been few underdogs as clearly disadvantaged as Dahlia has been.
Fuelled by love, Dahlia's muscles somehow last long enough until Sheila gives a long, ragged moan and allows her arm to be pulled upright, back to the center position. Her head has been bowed for a while now. She looks up, and there are startled gasps at the look on her face. Her eyes are rolling upwards and back, her jaw hangs slack with a trickle of drool out of one corner... she looks as though she is about to faint.
Sylvia has time to utter a shocked and horrified "Mom..." before Dahlia leans with her entire body to the right, flexing her exhausted left arm one last time, and pulls Sheila's arm over the top in one fluid motion. Sheila's whole arm is stretched out. Her hand goes down...
... and Sylvia swoops in, crouching so that her eyes are level with the clasped hands, shaking like leaves in the wind.
"She's won! Dahlia has won!" Camellia cries out.
"No!" Sylvia immediately yells. "No! Not yet! Not yet!"
The murmur grows. "Hey, she's down! Sheila's down! Call it!" The women rise off their chairs and move forward, trying to get a better view.
Dahlia keeps struggling on and on, shaking all over. She knows she has already won -- she can feel the resistance of the pad against the back of Sheila's hand. But Sheila is still putting up the barest resistance, and leaning in so no one else can get a really good look. The Steeles are refusing to admit defeat. Camellia jerks futilely at her cuffs and calls out the injustice of it, but Sylvia just keeps her hand raised in the air. "No! Not yet! Not down yet! Come on, Mom! Pull! Pull!"
Until finally, when Sheila has slumped all the way and practically sunk to her knees, her arm muscles limp... only then does Sylvia grudgingly straighten up and lower her hand. She doesn't say anything. She just stands there, glowering at her utterly exhausted mother.
Dahlia releases Sheila's hand and her arm slides off the table as she sinks to her knees, swaying slightly, blinking sweat out of her eyes, gasping as though she has jsut finished a marathon. Those last few seconds... if she had flagged for even a moment, Sheila might very well have pulled her all the way back up and down the other side. She knows she had already won... just that Sylvia was determined to wring every last bit of energy out of her.
Sylvia is now sulking, refusing to declare the winner of the match, or the scoreline. A few of the women start up a chant. "3-2! 3-2! 3-2!"
That is indeed the scoreline now. Against all expectations... against all the odds... Dahlia has triumphed with her arms against Sheila's.
She blinks, and looks up at Camellia's face, streaked with tears and lined with worry. She rises slowly to her feet, trying to rub some life back into her nerveless forearm and numb upper arm with her right hand. She tries to smile at her mother, blinking away her own haze of tears.
The embers of hope haven't completely died out yet...
Sheila takes a long swig of water from her bottle, then drizzles the rest over her face and shoulders. She can feel her face flushing with shame and embarrassment, and she keeps her head down, averting her gaze from anyone else's. Including her daughter's.
What the fuck has just happened? How the fuck did it happen? How? How has she just lost twice -- twice! -- at atm wrestling, of all things, to that wretched Dahlia Kwan?
She can feel the scorn and vindictive resentment practically radiating from her daughter Sylvia. She had given Sylvia such a hard time, after Sylvia's duel with Dahlia. She didn't think she'd now be on the receiving end of Dahlia's... golden arms. That arm strength, that sheer muscle endurance... just unreal. Sheila can count on the fingers of one hand the number of women currently in this room capable of beating her in an arm wrestle (not counting Dahlia). She can confidently beat the rest. But other than Dahlia... no one else has ever gone down that far, almost to defeat, and then pulled off a stunning comeback. And with both arms!
She has mocked Sylvia mercilessly sometimes, for losing to Dahlia with both arms consecutively. She's also expressed outraged disbelief at how their daughters' duel ended, how Dahlia had gone into the sexfight round almost KOed already, yet had managed to outlast Sylvia's pussy. Now she can feel Sylvia's gaze practically boring into her. It's the muscle fatigue, she decides. She didn't go into the arm wrestling contests fresh. Sylvia should've made sure she was more rested -- Sylvia, her own daughter! Dropping the ball like this! It's her fault. Sylvia should've done more. Massaged her arms better, while Dahlia was still struggling with the bench press. It's Sylvia's fault.
The shame and humiliation threaten to overwhelm Sheila. Her fingers open and close reflexively. Her grip strength... it's all shot. She needs time... more time to recover...
She risks a quick look up. Dahlia has finished rehydrating and is now embracing her captive mother. They're kissing deeply, furiously. She can hear their murmurs. How Dahlia had been inspired by the sight of her mother's flexing, straining muscles. How proud Camellia was of Dahlia's indomitable will and muscle power. How Dahlia thinks all her strength comes from Camellia, her strong sexy muscle mom.
She feels like retching and spitting with anger and contempt. This shouldn't have happened. She should be celebrating right now, after trouncing the smaller, weaker Asian girl 4 to nothing in front of her own mother, in front of everyone. They should be forcing Camellia to watch as she and Sylvia do double-penetration on Dahlia, breaking the defiant girl's will, forcing her to admit that their family is just plain inferior, just plain weaker...!
She is having such a hard time catching her breath. The burning in her lungs has abated only a bit. She realizes she is still huffing and grunting like a cow in heat. Angrily she looks up, catches her daughter's eye -- the bratty bitch really is giving her the stink-eye -- and beckons her over impatiently. Sylvia comes over with insolent slowness.
"What?"
"I need a recharge." Sheila gestures over at the Kwans. "Get them to stop! She's practically humping Cammy. Cammy is not allowed to help her daughter in any physical way! That's what she gets for losing to me!"
Sylvia hesitates, nods, and turns around, shrilly conveying her mother's demands. A storm of protest arises from the audience. This seems arbitrary to them, unfair, petty. Which... of course it's all that, but Sheila is past caring.
Camellia is mine to bully. And her daughter too. Mine! You're all mine, Cammy! Looking down your snooty nose at me all these years... making me feel less than you... I'll take any fucking payback I can get!
Dahlia is still clinging defiantly onto her mother, pressing up against her. They are both glaring alternately at Sylvia and at her. Their sense of womanly honor, however, is easy to exploit. Unwillingly, after a last long, lingering kiss, Dahlia detaches herself from her mother and goes to sit and rest by herself. Sheila snorts nastily in triumph.
"Now come on," she calls out to Sylvia, and spreads her legs, reclining back on her forearms. "Give your momma a pick-me-up."
There is jeering now at this blatant unfairness, but Sheila only sneers at them. Lesser women. She's beaten most of them before, made them beg, made them eat her out, taken them with her strap. "I deserve this!" she yells at them. "Winner's perks! I beat Camellia Kwan! You all saw it! I get to have this! She doesn't!"
"Mom," Sylvia hisses, even as she gets down on her knees. "Mom, they... they're..."
"They're nothing," Sheila snaps. "Just do it. I need to win the tug of war."
"Should've done more cardio," Sylvia mutters before she lowers her face completely into Sheila's crotch and begins her mouth-work.
Sheila throws her head back and lets the pleasure hum pleasantly through her body, slowly pushing the exhaustion out and away from her cells. She looks over at her opponent. Dahlia is sitting calmly and seems to be doing nothing more than breathing deeply and slowly, while looking up and holding her mother's gaze. She is not even attempting to use her own fingers on herself. Camellia, meanwhile, with her restricted mobility, is nonetheless attempting to flex her muscles in a sexy display of strength for her daughter's eyes.
She begins to grin as her confidence returns. There's no way she loses the tug of war. She, with her refreshed body and greater body weight, she is going to yank Dahlia all the way across the line in the middle. Dahlia's arms are a fluke, a freak of nature. The tug of war will show everyone who's boss, who the bigger and stronger woman really is.
When she has reached a nice high plateau, she tells Sylvia to stop. While she gets to her feet, Sylvia moves the arm wrestling table away and comes back with the rope for the contest. Sheila's thick limbs feel powerful. The lactic acid has all but gone, and her breathing is back to normal. She grins again at Dahlia, enjoying the looking of trepidation that the smaller Asian girl cannot quite hide.
Now they'll see, she thinks as Sylvia lays the rope down between them. Now they'll all see...
Amazing how Dahlia's arm strength and muscle endurance proved too much for Sheila in the arm wrestling battles. ;)
The audience falls silent as Dahlia steps forward, bends down, and picks up the rope. Her leg muscles ripple as she moves. Her elegantly-shaped calves bulge. She looks strong and sexy. The question uppermost in everyone's thoughts is the same: will it be enough?
Across from her, with only a few feet of distance between them, Sheila smirks. Her confidence has been restored, along with seemingly much of her energy. She is still breathing hard and heavy, with rivulets of sweat flowing down her body, but Sylvia has given her what amounts to an adrenaline shot. She does look very much like a woman who outweighs her opponent by about 18kg -- an entirely different weight class in most types of competitions.
Instead of following suit and picking up her end of the rope, Sheila bends forward slightly and cranks her arms in a crab pose -- the most-muscular pose. Her solid muscles bulge intimidatingly all across her shoulders and chest. Her veiny arms add to the impression of overwhelming raw power.
"Get a good look, Dahlia. You'll be worshipping these muscles soon enough," she says nastily. Then she turns to Camellia and pumps the pose some more, as if she's hulking up. Her grin broadens at the look of dismay flashing across Camellia's face, that Camellia cannot quite suppress. "Yeah, that's right, Cammy." She steps closer to the chained-up woman. "This is what your little girl's up against. She got lucky with her arms. She won't get lucky with these. I'm gonna drag her all the way across this line, right here in front of you. You're getting the best live view of the moment when your Dahlia becomes our slave too, Cammy." She cackles. Sylvia, standing off to the side, cackles too.
A single tear rolls down Camellia's cheek. "My daughter has already proved she's stronger than you think," she says, holding her nemesis's gaze with proud defiance. "I believe in her. She'll beat you, Sheila." She takes a deep breath. "My daughter will win!" she cries out, her voice ringing across the room.
Still smirking, Sheila steps away, bends down and picks up the rope. They've chosen a somewhat short and thick rope; there's not really enough length to wrap it around either woman's wrists (which is dangerous), much less waist. Both Dahlia and Sheila will have to rely only on their grip strength to hold on to the rope. As Sylvia quickly explains to everyone, if either contestant loses her grip, she will be deemed to have lost. Otherwise, the contest ends when any part of the loser's feet, even part of a toe, has crossed the line marked in the middle over into the other zone (it won't count if the toes are still on the marker itself, since it's a strip of white tape -- it has to actually go over into the other side).
As Dahlia takes firm hold of the rope, her heart flutters. The coarse fibres dig into her palms -- good for friction, allowing her a decent grip, so at least they haven't oiled it or anything. But there isn't enough length for her to adopt the usual tug-of-war stance; instead, she will have to hold on to the rope in front of her body and splay out her legs in a starfish posture. Sheila will be doing likewise. This means Sheila's body weight will count for more, instead of leverage achieved by the more usual kind of stance. Yet another way the Steeles have subtly stacked the contest in Sheila's favor: Dahlia and Camellia have been practicing by themselves using the conventional way, so Dahlia's movements now will have to be improvised.
She remembers the first fitness challenge between their families, at the Mother's Day competition on the beach. She remembers the shame and humiliation of how both of them, mother and daughter, both lost to their rivals on stage at arm wrestling. She also remembers how they both managed to win at tug-of-war, how it felt to have her mother right behind her, so close together their bodies were touching, how the sound of her mother's labored breathing gave her inspiration, how they both pulled in perfect tandem so that they somehow managed to win. Now she's going to be all by herself, against the biggest woman she's ever faced... a woman who has already defeated her beloved mother, crushed her decisively in contests and fights, while she watched helplessly...
She has been trying to draw strength from her mother's display, rubbing herself while Camellia flexes as best as she can, doing her best to give Dahlia more arousal. But thoughts and images keep intruding. Camellia's arm being forced down by Sheila's stronger arm. Camellia's nipple being pushed aside by Sheila's as they match breasts. Camellia losing a test of strength and sinking to her knees in front of Sheila. Camellia's face, trapped in the crook of Sheila's arm, as Sheila KOs Camellia with a camel-clutch chokehold...
No! The thoughts are leeching strength from her muscles. No, I can't think of her that way... my own mother... I have to remember, she's strong. She's powerful. She's my muscle mom. She's right here... they won't break her. They won't break me. They won't break us!
Dahlia and Sheila grip the rope tightly, and it goes taut. They lean back, allowing their knees to bend. The initial thrust will be important, using their quadriceps power to immediately make their opponent lose ground. Sylvia stands in the middle, on the opposite side of the rope from Camellia, holding onto the rope with one hand. Every other woman leans forward in their seats expectantly.
"And..." Sylvia yanks her hand away. "Go!"
With all her strength, Dahlia thrusts with her legs and throws her whole body weight backwards, pulling harder than she has ever pulled in her life...
Amazing new chapter to build up to the tug-of-war next. Unless Sheila can get a quick win, Dahlia has the muscle endurance along with overall conditioning to out last Sheila in this contest. I am looking forward to see how it unfolds. ;)
Dahlia can feel Sheila's sheer muscular power like a shockwave through her entire body. Her feet skid on the rubber mat and her knees buckle. Sheila is too heavy, too strong. Already she has slid forward a few inches before she manages to dig in and resist Sheila's pulling power. Already she can feel the strain of gripping the taut trembling rope. Already her lower back is feeling the immense force of pulling back against Sheila Steele. Already her shoulders are being yanked forward, almost out of their sockets. Her muscles are already screaming for mercy, twinges of agony shooting through every muscle and joint of her shaking body.
Her vision blurs as she throws her head back and utters a choked cry. She is losing. Inch by inch, she is being dragged forward against her will, closer and closer to the dreaded line. Step by step, Sheila is hauling Dahlia closer and closer to a crushing defeat. Her mother... her dearest, beloved mother... can only watch helplessly, chained to her rack, almost within arm's reach yet so far, so very far...
I need to be stronger. I need strength. More strength. How? From where? Mom. Mom, give me strength. I need your strength. She's too big, too heavy, too strong. I can't win on my own. Mom... help me...
Dahlia is now only scant inches from defeat. Her feet have almost reached the line. Sheila is jerking and tugging, her feet scrabbling and pedalling furiously, grunting and snorting with exertion, making wordless exuberant sounds -- she knows she's almost got it, she has almost won this contest. Every single muscle on Dahlia's strong, young body is fully flexed and taxed to the very limit and beyond, stretched out on full display before Camellia's tear-filled gaze...
Dahlia's eyelids flutter. Her grunts of effort now sound like desperate croaks. Her whole body shakes like a sapling in a storm.
"That's it... ungh... that's it... just a bit more... just a teensy bit more..." Sylvia moans, fingers pressed tightly against her pussy. She bites her lip as her gaze moves rapidly back and forth between her mother's starting line and Dahlia's toes, and Dahlia's body itself. Only an inch of space remains.
Dahlia's eyes glaze over.
Imagine... this is a cliff. I'm on the top of a cliff. I'm holding on... that's Mom, down there, hanging on to the rope. I have to pull her back up. I have to pull. It's so heavy... like a car... there's a car below Mom. I can't let her fall. I won't let her fall. Mom, I won't let you fall. I won't.
It is the longest five minutes anyone in that room has ever experienced. For five endless minutes, the watching women scream and shout and cheer and exclaim, unable to believe what they are seeing. Dahlia's toes are at the very threshold. Her knees are bent. Her upper body is forcibly arching forward, and her shoulders are fully stretched out. Her face is hidden, with her head bowed in between her arms. Sweat drips from her whole body onto the mat beneath her, collecting in little pools. Veins stand out all over her body. On the other end of the rope, Sheila keeps grunting and growling and gasping like a she-bear rutting, almost howling with rage and frustration. Spittle flies out from between her lips. Her crimson face is contorted. Her muscles are so pumped with effort that she looks more powerful than a gorilla. Sylvia is still rubbing her clit, but she is frantic, rocking back and forth on her heels, yelling at her mother to just give it that one last heave, one last surge of effort to finish off Dahlia for good, she is literally less than an inch from victory, what is wrong with her, pull, just pull, Mom, you big fucking cow, just heave one more time, one more time, one more time...
And all this time Camellia just stares, her jaw hanging, fatigue etched on every line of her body, staring in mingled disbelief and desperate hope at her beautiful daughter's straining, flexing form...
Until finally...
Dahlia's body lurches backwards suddenly, and she collapses clumsily onto the mat. The rope is still in her hands, but loose now. She lands with a jolt, the unexpected impact knocking the air out of her aching lungs. Her limbs splay out, and she just lays there, unmoving except for the rapid and violent heaving of her torso as she gulps in air like a drowning woman just rescued.
Her feet have not moved beyond the line.
Across from her, Sheila too has fallen onto her back, and now lies there supine, her muscular chest also rising and falling with big gulping breaths. Her arms are limp by her side. The veins on her forearms stand out in a frightening, grotesque way. Her hands tremble and shake, her fingers crooked like a pair of hooked claws.
There is a moment of stunned silence in the room. And then the uproar begins.
Sheila has lost her grip on the rope. Her grip strength apparently was the first thing to give out in this entire contest, coming in just ahead of her lungs. Definitely ahead of Dahlia's muscles. Which have, against all odds... against all reasonable expectations... proved stronger. Victorious.
The score in this contest, between Sheila Steele and Dahlia Kwan...
... is now 3-3. Dahlia has equalized.
The final contest will be the tiebreaker. The two women will now wrestle for dominance... and for the fate of the feuding families.
**
Happy Mothers Day to all the Camellia Kwans of the world! :D
And yeah, ok, all the Sheilas too.
WOW that was an epic contest of strength and endurance. :o
Now it comes down to a tiebreaker which could go either way.... ;)
Everyone is taking advantage of the temporary lull in the action to rehydrate and recharge. After Dahlia has slowly, painfully climbed to her feet, she stands beside her mother on shaking legs and feeds her diluted fruit juice from their bottle. Her hands tremble so much she has trouble holding on to the bottle properly, and she has to lean on Camellia's rack for support, or her knees will buckle entirely.
This contest has exacted such an immense toll on Dahlia's body... Camellia's eyes fill with tears yet again. Dahlia kisses the tears off her mother's cheeks, but her own eyes are watery and red-rimmed as well.
"Almost there, Mom," she whispers, letting her lips brush across her mother's. "Just one more challenge to go... I'll win... I'll beat her... for you..."
"Yes." Camellia's voice is soft and hoarse. She has been yelling and cheering her lungs out. "You will. You must."
"I'll make you proud. I'll show them all how strong we are. I'll get you off this thing. I'll make it so Sheila and Sylvia never bother us again." They kiss hungrily, desperately.
Meanwhile, their rivals are exchanging words with increasingly harsh voices. Sheila is lying on the mat, arms still by her side, spread-eagled in ungainly fashion. Sylvia is kneeling beside her, bent over her and kneading her veiny forearms.
"Just do it!" Sheila snarls in exasperation.
"It'll be too much," Sylvia snaps back in response. "Bad enough I'm doing this right now..."
"I'm fucking cramping! You're my daughter!"
"They're laughing at us! I'm supposed to be the referee..."
"Oh don't give me that, they can't do a damned thing about it, the only thing I care about is making sure I win this thing!"
"You should've won this already! You should've put her arm down!" Sylvia stops massaging her mother's arms and straightens, throwing her hands up in dramatic fashion. "What the fuck is happening, Mom? You're not winning. You're losing!"
"I am not losing," Sheila hisses, her voice suddenly low and frantic. She darts furtive glances at the audience members, but she doesn't meet anyone's eyes. She can hear what they're saying perfectly well... she is just pretending not to. "I will crush her. I'll do it, just get the cramps out of my arms and eat. My. Pussy!"
The scorn and derision are palpable.
"All this cheating and she's still struggling," Jasmine Kaur can be heard quite clearly above the hubbub. "I wonder what's in Sheila's biceps. Marshmallows, probably. Big and fluffy and soft." There are gales of laughter all around.
Sheila grips her red-faced daughter by the shoulders. "I need this. Just do it."
Muttering angrily, Sylvia moves to comply. The crowd howls with contempt as Sheila spreads her legs and Sylvia gets in between them, still reaching up to massage the last of the cramps out of Sheila's forearms. Sheila simply lays back and closes her eyes, ignoring the jeers and taunts. Her breathing gets slower and deeper as Sylvia's mouth and tongue work their magic. Her massively muscled chest rises and falls. Strength starts returning visibly to her arms and legs.
"Use my thigh," Camellia whispers in Dahlia's ear. "Rub yourself against my thigh. They're being too unfair. We can have this much."
Dahlia hesitates a moment, and nods. Running her hands up and down Camellia's sides, she stands with Camellia's left thigh in between her legs, and starts humping while kissing her mother passionately. No one gainsays them. The Steeles are in a world of their own, and as for the audience they tacitly endorse what the Kwans are now doing. It's the very least the Kwans can do to give Dahlia a fair fighting chance.
Which is still not something Dahlia is going to get, everyone thinks again, when finally the two battling women are standing and facing off again. The strain and fatigue are etched on every line of Dahlia's perfectly muscled body. Sheila also looks exhausted, but her shoulders heave with each huge breath she takes. She is thoroughly galvanized by her daughter's ministrations. Her inner thighs glisten with the juices of her arousal that have trickled out.
"This is gonna be the ugliest wrestling match we've ever seen," Jasmine chuckles as she sits back and drapes an arm across Florence's shoulders.
"How are they both even standing?" Florence murmurs. "Dahlia's legs are still shaking, look."
"And Sheila's hands are still trembling. I don't think she could grip a teddy bear right now," Jasmine laughs. "This might have to be a slap fight. Bit of slap and tickle, eh, as the British say."
"Ok, who's your money on, Jasmine?" Florence says challengingly, slapping and squeezing the much larger woman's rock-hard quadriceps. "How's this gonna play out?"
"I think I know Dahlia well enough by now. You tell me your guess, Flo. Who's gonna win? And how?"
"Well, obviously, the only chance Dahlia has would be to use her speed and skill," Florence says reasonably. "She can't muscle her way out of a 20-kilo disadvantage. If she hasn't been taking classes in BJJ or Chinese nerve-pinching or something, she's got no chance."
"Ha! You're clueless."
Florence opens her mouth to retort, but as the match commences she gapes.
"What... what's she... oh for fuck's sake, is she serious?"
"Yep. That's what I thought," Jasmine says, snorting with amusement.
Right in front of everyone... right in the middle of the room... the exhausted, over-exerted Dahlia Kwan is raising her arms high in the air, wordlessly challenging her larger opponent to a test of strength.
Amazing chapter and I think Dahlia has more than a fighting chance. Seems like Sheila keeps running out of endurance as the battle continues. ;)
Sheila's face contorts and practically goes purple with rage. Everyone can see it -- the sheer disparity in size, the incongruity of Dahlia challenging her like this. Dahlia's limbs are shaking! Her skin is slick with sweat all over, and even her outstretched hands are trembling slightly. And yet, she is still issuing this challenge to a test of womanly strength...!
She is wide open -- all Sheila has to do is to ignore the foolish challenge and charge forward for a takedown. And then, at last, Dahlia Kwan will surely crumble. She will be crushed beneath Sheila Steele, made to submit and join her mother in captivity. And that will be the end of this feud. Has Sheila's pride been stung sufficiently, though...?
Yes, it has. Before everyone's rapt eyes, Sheila steps forward and raises her own thick arms in the air, ready to lace fingers with her rival's daughter and match muscles with her. Her arms are trembling, too. Her legs are shaking maybe a tad less than Dahlia's. This isn't going to be a test of strength so much as a test of endurance...
They lock hands and begin. Everyone can see the precise moment they wordlessly commence their contest. The muscles jump out in sharp relief all over both bodies, and immediately they are both scrunching up their faces, jaws hanging open as the pain shoots through their straining sinews and tendons. Dahlia and Sheila press their faces and upper bodies close together and sway slowly from side to side.
Sheila is the fresher, thanks to Sylvia's mouthwork. Her energy level and her bulk begin to tell, very quickly. Bit by bit, Dahlia's arms are pushed backwards and down, at what must be an increasingly painful angle. Her upper body also begins to bend, as Sheila presses forward relentlessly. Her slightly larger breasts are pressing on Dahlia's smaller ones, seemingly flattening them out to the sides.
Sheila begins laughing breathlessly with delight, clearly feeling dominant. "Haha... hah... hahaha! How... how do you like that... huh... huh?? Test of strength? Test of strength? You? Against me?" She is practically breathing those taunts into Dahlia's mouth, since their faces are pressed together.
It is heartbreaking to watch, especially after Dahlia's spectacular showing in the last 3 contests of strength. She has come so far, equalized when no one -- not even her mother -- thought it possible... and now, to lose like this...
A moan is heard all through the audience as Dahlia's knees suddenly buckle and she begins sinking. "No," Camellia wails, and begins weeping. "No. Come on, Dahlia. Push, darling, push. Fight back. You can do it, darling. Push, Dahlia, push." Dahlia's muscles flex mightily as she fights to obey her beloved mother. But slowly, so slowly, her legs bend until her knees are almost touching the mat.
Sylvia leans in close, one hand pressed against her clit, practically slavering. "Ohh yes. That's it, Mom. Crush her. Crush her flat."
"Ahh... ahh..." Dahlia moans piteously.
"Haha... haha..." Sheila's hot breath blows right into Dahlia's open mouth.
Then Dahlia's head shifts slightly and her lips close around Sheila's. Their faces are now fully pressed together in what looks like the most passionate of kisses between lovers.
Long seconds pass. Dahlia's body shivers and shakes. Her knees remain just barely above the mat. The strain on her lower back must be incredible. Sheila's body is hunched over hers like an engulfing wave. Every muscle on their bodies is fully flexed and strained to the limit.
The muffled grunting from both women gets louder and louder. "Mff. Mfff! Mffff!"
And then suddenly... Dahlia is straightening up, pushing back! Her trembling legs begin to unbend. Her arms begin to move forward again, jerkily pushing back against Sheila's, until they are almost level with her chest once more. Sheila's face is unmistakably dark red now, almost purple. She seems to be trying frantically to jerk it away, to turn away from Dahlia. But Dahlia's mouth stays plastered on Sheila's. The veins and cords on Dahlia's neck are bulging and writhing.
The watching women leap to their feet with a roar, surging forward and craning their heads for a closer look.
Dahlia has applied the Kiss of Death! Sheila can barely breathe through her still-damaged nose. By locking lips with her opponent, Dahlia forces them into an oxygen duel -- the woman with stronger chest muscles gets more air into her lungs. But she can still breathe through her nose, unlike Sheila. Sheila's pride has already broken and she's trying to escape the liplock, but Dahlia is tenaciously staying on point, keeping the contest going. And more: as Sheila tries to draw back and lean away, Dahlia gets to regain the ground she's lost and push back against Sheila's muscles.
A few seconds more, and the two women are even again, straining with arms out to the side, feet braced to push forward. They are still kissing. Sheila has gone bug-eyed with panic. She's trying to free up some space to breathe through her mouth, but every time she manages to escape Dahlia's lips it is only for a split-second before Dahlia determinedly latches on again like a limpet. She is flushing crimson as well, and not breathing easily. But the duel of stamina appears to be favoring her heavily, and more with every passing moment.
It is bedlam. Camellia on her rack is screaming for Dahlia to push with all her might, her own tired muscles tensed up in sympathy. Sylvia is alternating between yelling imprecations at Dahlia and screaming incredulously at her mother. The spectators are all cheering and shouting, some for Sheila still, but most for the plucky, indomitable Dahlia upsetting all their predictions and putting up an incredible underdog fight.
And now it is Sheila starting to bend over backwards...!
But abruptly, Sheila staggers backward a giant step, and just like that the liplock is broken. Dahlia loses her balance too. The two wrestlers lurch around for a few moments, still locking hands, before they fall to the mat in a tangled mess of flailing limbs. Sheila has apparently decided to abandon her pride entirely and break off the test of strength this way, instead of allowing Dahlia the chance to see it through and push Sheila down onto her knees.
Down on the mat, with both of them too tired to even mount a proper "ground game", it becomes a simple matter of weight, mass and momentum. Soon, Sheila has managed to pin Dahlia down, despite Dahlia's desperate struggles.
The crowd subsides, watching quietly as the struggle continues, seeing Dahlia succumb slowly, bit by bit, to Sheila's weight advantage. The exhaustion on Dahlia's face is heartrending to see. Sheila has pinned her arms down successfully, and is now maneuvering to clamp her thighs around Dahlia's. Sheila is not having an easy time of it either, breathing so heavily she is snorting with every breath, but gravity is now on her side. Try as she might, Dahlia cannot dislodge her heavier opponent, not from this position.
In just a few moments, the tide has turned and the Kwans are plunged once again into despair. Sylvia is now heaving sighs of relief, grinning as she looks at her mother's undulating back muscles and licking her lips. Camellia is now hanging limply, tears running silently down her cheeks, still whispering words that look like "Fight, Dahlia, fight" to anyone who can lipread.
Finally, after long minutes of wrestling around on the floor, Sheila manages to get one thigh, and then the other, on the outside, hooking her calves underneath Dahlia's. She has subdued Dahlia's movements almost entirely by now. Their struggling has subsided. Sheila looks down at Dahlia, sweat dripping from her nose and chin down onto Dahlia's face.
"That's it..." Jasmine murmurs, sounding disappointed. She sits back in her chair and reaches for her vibrator. "That's it then. She's had a good long run, longer than we thought she'd have, but she's finished now."
Florence can only murmur in agreement. If the match were for a pin, Dahlia would have lost already. In this position of total dominance, Sheila has every advantage. All she has to do now is to wring the submission from Dahlia's lips.
The end of the Kwans is near. How will it come?
This battle has been amazing including the latest chapter. Amazing how Dahlia has used her endurance to push Sheila so close to exhaustion. Thanks for creating this epic struggle. ;)
The groans of dismay from Dahlia's supporters and the murmurs of speculation subside after a while, and still there is no movement from the two women, other than the heaving of their chests. Sheila remains perched atop Dahlia, pinning her down. Their legs are still entwined, with Sheila applying a dominant grapevine lock.
Dahlia glares defiantly up at her opponent, her face a mask of despairing courage, heartbreaking to see.
Sheila's sadistic grin grows wider and wider as she gazes down at her helpless opponent.
"I win," she says at last, still breathless, but gleeful.
"No," is all that Dahlia says in reply.
"Wanna give up? Huh? Say you submit to me, Dahlia Kwan."
"Never."
Sheila looks up then and turns to look at Camellia. Sylvia has taken up position behind the helpless woman; her hands are poised at Camellia's nipples and pussy. She grins and gives her mother a sharp nod of readiness. Sheila is about to wring a painful submission from Camellia's daughter, right in front of her.
She locks eyes with Dahlia again, and everyone can see how her hamstrings begin curling and flexing. Her large, slightly flabby glutes quiver as she tenses up her whole lower body, the hard muscle still visible beneath the layer of fat.
Dahlia's legs, stretched out, begin trembling. She presses her lips together and clenches her jaw. The trembling spreads slowly through her torso, and then up through her pinned arms, until her whole body is shaking.
Almost a minute passes this way. Dahlia's breathing gets heavier and heavier. Beads of sweat appear on her skin all over. Sheila begins grunting with effort, relentlessly flexing her legs to apply the grapevine hold as agonizingly as she can.
Dahlia's lips are trembling now. Sheila bares her teeth ferally. "Graaaarrgghh!" she growls and begins jerking her whole body, flexing her hamstrings to the max.
Another minute passes before finally...
"Hnnnhh... hnnnn.... haaaarrr... aaaaarggghh..." The cries of pain are finally wrung from Dahlia's stubborn lips. She can no longer conceal it on her face. She is too weak to bridge successfully against Sheila, though she tries a few times. All she can do is flex her legs to resist... it is not enough.
Sheila lowers her face to Dahlia's and begins to kiss her helpless opponent ferociously, almost devouring Dahlia's mouth. "You like to kiss, huh?" she gasps in between long, hard kisses. "You like to kiss? Thought you could beat me with kissing? Huh? You thought you could win like that? How do you like this, huh... how do you like kissing now..."
Dahlia can only lie there and take it... all of it. She tries to spread her legs wider to escape... it doesn't work. She tries again to bridge and buck Sheila off somehow... it doesn't work. She tries to turn on her side... it doesn't work. Sheila is in full control now, of the kissing as well. Soon, Dahlia is sobbing full force as she thrashes in pain beneath Sheila's sweaty bulk.
Meanwhile, Sylvia is stimulating Camellia to what threatens to be a powerful, utterly unwanted orgasm. Her fingers and hands are hard at work, rubbing Camellia's exposed nipples and pussy, and Camellia is completely helpless against her. Camellia whimpers involuntarily as her arousal grows and grows, even though her anguish is growing as well.
"So sopping wet," Sylvia giggles in Camellia's ear. To the crowd and the wrestlers she cries out, "She's sopping wet! She's so turned on, watching her girl lose to my big, strong mom! She's gonna cum any moment now! You hear that, Dahlia? Your mom's about to cum... to the sight of you losing! Why don't you submit already? Give up, Dahlia, give up!"
"Submit, Dahlia!" Sheila echoes, throwing her head back and cackling.
"Aarggh... aarrggh..." Dahlia's face turns this way and that, as the pain wracks her body. But her eyes open, and she glares up at Sheila. "Never!"
"Gnnnn..." Sheila glares right back and redoubles her hamstring flexing, doing her utmost to pour on the pressure.
Tears of pain are squeezed from those defiant eyes. "N-never..." Dahlia says in a weaker voice.
How much more can she take, everyone wonders. Almost everyone has something -- hand or vibrator -- pressed against their own pussies and clits now. And Camellia, too -- how close is she to climaxing? She looks as though she is flexing every muscle in her body to resist... as though her resistance is about to crumble any moment, under Sylvia's cruel and merciless assault.
"Submit," Sheila demands yet again, hoarsely.
"N-n-never..." Dahlia croaks. Her voice sounds so feeble now. "I'll... never... give in... to you..." Her whole body is shaking, shivering, quivering, as if she is having a fit.
And finally... after almost five minutes... Sheila's legs relax and she slumps. Dahlia's violent trembling gradually stops, not straightaway. Sheila continues lying atop her, breathing even harder than before, sweat pouring off her body. Her weight is visibly making it harder for Dahlia to catch her own breath.
Their legs are still in the grapevine position, but the strain has abated... for now. Dahlia has somehow managed to withstand almost five minutes of unrelenting flexing by Sheila. The watching women can only imagine the state her legs are in...
"You know you've lost," Sheila whispers into Dahlia's ear, not loudly enough for anyone to hear. "Just fucking submit already. Are you such a sucker for pain, girl?"
"I won't submit to you," Dahlia manages to say, after gulping in a couple of breaths with difficulty. "I won't lose to you."
"You've already lost," Sheila snarls.
"No. I won't. Because... I'm fighting... for my family."
"Well, so am I," Sheila growls. "And my family... my girl and me... we're just plain better than yours, Dahlia," she says, leaning in close to practically spit the words against Dahlia's mouth. "We're stronger and sexier and better. I beat your mom completely. I pounded your pussy while she held your legs open. I broke her. She's mine now. And my girl... we both know she should have won her matches against you. She's stronger and better than you. You just keep winning with flukes. You should lose." Anger thickens her voice. "You should lose. I'm bigger and stronger than you. I should win. You should lose. Just lose. Lose, Dahlia! Lose!"
Dahlia's breathing is still ragged, but she manages to reply. "Never." Looking Sheila straight in the eye, she says, "I'm stronger than you. You know it. Everyone knows it."
Sheila's eyes blaze, then narrow. She says in a low voice, "Do you remember the first wrestling match you watched between your mom and me, Dahlia? In that ring, when I got her up against the turnbuckles? And my boob crushed hers right in front of your eyes? And you remember what I did next?"
Dahlia's eyes widen.
Sheila repositions her limbs slightly. Then, she raises her entire body off the mat, launching herself up with her hands and her toes.
Her entire body flops down heavily on top of Dahlia's.
Dahlia goes goggle-eyed. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her battered body convulses a couple of times as the air is completely driven out of her.
"Oooohhhhh!" the crowd exclaims at this move. Camellia utters a choked wordless cry of denial, frantically pulling and pulling at her chains and cuffs, to no avail.
Sheila is using the biggest advantage at her disposal: her sheer weight advantage. Her whole body is now a short-range battering ram. "Submit, Dahlia!" she yells.
Dahlia takes a moment before she weakly shakes her head in negation.
"Ooh... not a good sign... she can't even speak now..." several of the women comment, in between their moans.
Sheila gathers herself for another body slam.
"No... don't..." Camellia cries out, her voice cracking.
Sheila turns her head. "What's that, Cammy?" she says breathlessly. "You want to submit? You want to give up on your daughter's behalf?" Beneath her, Dahlia stirs weakly, her muscles tensing uselessly against Sheila's.
"Do it... do it..." Sylvia urges Camellia while rubbing and pressing. "Cum right as you throw in the towel for your Dahlia..." she suggests, breathless with excitement at the prospect.
Camellia shakes her head violently all of a sudden. "Dahlia! Get up! Get up, my love! Fight! Get up!"
"All right, she asked for it," Sheila snarls, looking down at Dahlia. "You too! You're asking for this!"
Again, her body goes up, and her weight comes crashing down on Dahlia's. This time, Dahlia has a second to brace her entire body against the impact, but it seems to do little good. Once more, the wind is driven out of Dahlia's muscular but much-weakened body.
Dahlia gags and coughs. Her torso heaves helplessly beneath Sheila's bulk.
"Wanna kiss? Huh?" Sheila dives in for a lip-lock, a predator going in for the kill. She smothers Dahlia's mouth with her own, cutting off Dahlia from much-needed air. "Mmmf... mffff..."
"Who wants to bet? Camellia cums first, or Dahlia submits first?" Sylvia calls out to the crowd.
Sheila comes up for air, gasping. "Submit," she pants.
Dahlia's head lolls from side to side. She is barely conscious now. It is beginning to look as though she is KOed, rather than slowly shaking her head, refusing to quit.
"One more for the road," Sheila chuckles. She braces herself, and does the body-flop again.
The meaty smack resounds throughout the gym room. This time, there is barely any reaction from Dahlia -- her body jerks once, and then goes still.
Camellia starts shaking her head. "No... no..."
"Yes... yes..." Sylvia rubs away at Camellia furiously as Sheila clambers to her feet, with an unmoving Dahlia stretched out on the mat. Looking straight at Camellia, Sheila plants a foot firmly on Dahlia's unresisting belly, raises her arms up high, and pulls them into a powerful, dominant double-biceps flex of supremacy and triumph.
And watching her nemesis like this, flexing with a foot on her daughter, Camellia... cums.
She whimpers and sobs as she does so, climaxing so powerfully after resisting so hard that she squirts onto Sylvia's fingers. Her whole body convulses with spasm after spasm, quake after quake, rattling the cuffs and chains. It seems to go on forever. Sylvia meanwhile keeps laughing and laughing with spiteful glee, while Sheila continues flexing, mouth twisted with dark satisfaction.
While Camellia is still in the throes of this extended forced orgasm, Sheila reaches down and drags Dahlia's unresponsive body over, closer to the rack, and repositions her. She then lowers herself onto Dahlia's face in a schoolgirl pin, her shins trapping Dahlia's arms underneath. Dahlia's eyelids flutter. Sheila smiles again at the sight of Dahlia's face trapped in between her thighs, then looks up at her defeated, humiliated rival.
"It's over between us, Cammy dear," she says, as Sylvia finally stops over-stimulating Camellia and steps away, licking her fingers. Camellia, hanging limp and broken, does not respond. "It's over at last," Sheila repeats emphatically. She flexes her arms again, the picture of womanly dominance. "You're both ours now. You're both... arrkkh!"
Her words are cut off in a choked cry as abruptly, Dahlia's leg appears and snakes itself around her neck.
In the blink of an eye, the two combatants are again thrashing around on the mat in a tangled mess, but this time head-to-crotch. They twist and turn, limbs flailing, turning and tumbling.
Somehow... somehow! Against all reasonable expectation... when everyone had already given her up for gone... when by all rights she should have been considered KOed...
"This is beautiful," Jasmine whispers. She is on her feet, eyes shining, moist fingers hanging forgotten by her sides. She has already rubbed herself to four wet climaxes, and her inner thighs are coated with the juices of her indulgence. She no longer seems interested in deriving more sexual pleasure from the scene unfolding before their stunned, incredulous eyes.
"Impossible," Florence gasps, beside her. "She didn't submit. She never submitted! She's still fighting!"
"Beautiful. Just beautiful," Jasmine repeats, her voice thick with adoration as somehow, Dahlia's and Sheila's tangled forms settle and resolve themselves into...
A 69 double head-scissors.
Sylvia is shrieking, running her wet fingers thoughtlessly through her hair, inadvertently coating it with Camellia's juices. Camellia has lifted her head wearily to see what is happening, and seems to be slowly taking it all in. Everyone else has stepped forward for a good, close look at that rarest of sights before their eyes.
Sheila is trying to free her head, pushing and clawing at Dahlia's trembling thighs. Dahlia has wrapped her arms around Sheila's midriff and is squeezing, seemingly not very hard -- it is all too obvious that she has barely any strength left in her arms. Or her legs, come to that. Her own head is trapped securely between Sheila's thighs -- she could not prevent or escape the hold.
They roll around, first one way, then another. It is hard to say who has the advantage; the one below may have a more comfortable posture for squeezing, but the one above has gravity on her side.
After a while, they stop rolling. Each is now on her side. Dahlia's trapped, crimson face is facing towards her captive mother. Camellia has the full view of Sheila's huge glutes and hamstrings slowly crushing Dahlia's head and neck. She can also see how poor Dahlia's tortured legs are quivering so violently, after all they've been put through. How much strength can her daughter still muster, still channel through her terribly weakened leg muscles?
The two women settle into their final, final test of strength. Sheila has also wrapped her beefy arms around Dahlia's trunk. Now, all that is left for them to do... is to squeeze, and squeeze, and be the last woman squeezing.
Which will it be? Who will squeeze her opponent into the final submission?
Fabulously intense & incredibly hot & & sweaty! ;D :-* :D
Amazing chapter ;)