[katietay]

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...?

[Ben19c]

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.   

[ColombianCouple]

Oh wow... now she is Slace Cammy  i like this part

[ColombianCouple]

Oh wow... now she is Slave Cammy  i like this part

[katietay]

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...

[Ben19c]

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?   

[MrMota]

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.

[katietay]

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...

[katietay]

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...

[Ben19c]

Amazing how Dahlia's arm strength and muscle endurance proved too much for Sheila in the arm wrestling battles.   

[katietay]

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...

[Ben19c]

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.   

[katietay]

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!

And yeah, ok, all the Sheilas too.

[Ben19c]

WOW that was an epic contest of strength and endurance.   
Now it comes down to a tiebreaker which could go either way.... 

[katietay]

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.