Rose's life now seemed to be built on the arrival of increasingly competitive storms. The sexy Briton had not thought that that first confrontation in the showers would lead to an endless series of rivalries with numerous girls.
There, in that gym, Rose was constantly training. She knew that some personal trainers knew about the affair that had taken place some time ago in the women's locker room, but fortunately, it seemed that the information had remained hidden from many.
The British model could feel the gaze of those who knew her story as she trained, but she knew how to resist the temptation to smash everything and leave. For her, the gym was a world where her energies were used to build the body she always wanted and keep it at its peak.
Rose was starting her session on the inclined press when she noticed suspicious movements behind her. Glancing over, she saw some younger instructors circling a girl whose face was completely new. The British girl could feel the excitement in the young men, while the newcomer seemed to strut around in casual but sexy poses.
Looking up, Rose went back to thinking about her training. A new girl always attracts attention, although she had to admit that this one seemed to attract too much. The stares she had previously felt on her as she exercised had vanished into thin air, probably directed towards the new prototype slut in blue leggings and a tight top.
When the session was over, the British girl stood up in her finery, the black shorts doing justice to her toned legs as she stepped off the machine and wiped off the sweat. Turning around, Rose suddenly stopped. In front of her appeared the newcomer, suddenly coming out of nowhere. Following the movement, the British model did not have time to stop, and their bodies collided.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" complained the newcomer. "Are you blind, or are you just bitchy?"
The girl's voice was already too loud for Rose, who immediately disliked the newcomer. Moreover, her manner was too arrogant, and she knew a thing or two about arrogance.
"If you hadn't stuck to my ass, perhaps I wouldn't have hurt you," replied the British girl.
"Hurt?" "Baby, I didn't even feel the tickle," hissed the new girl, finally placing a hand on her hip, "and I can also understand why."
The allusion was obvious to Rose and the entire audience watching the scene. It made one smile at the innocence with which most people tried to turn away, while those who knew Rose approached, hoping for a new confrontation.
"No, otherwise you'd be on the ground in tears," Rose hissed, imitating the other girl's stance. "Better that way, right?" "No one would want to clean up afterward."
The British model saw the other girl's eyes widen, abandoning her position and approaching Rose, who had meanwhile done the same. The two girls soon ended up pressing their foreheads against each other, pressing their breasts together in their respective tops.
Staring into each other's eyes, they began to put more and more force into leaning into each other, swiftly exchanging comments about the other girl's weak physique, with Rose still smiling mockingly that the new girl was no match for her.
Their breasts were held tightly, moving only as one girl pushed the other back arrogantly, trying to persuade the other to back down and apologize, only to hear the rival's contrary response.
Rose had to discover to her horror how the feeling of discomfort began to materialize and grow from the first moment she pushed back against this girl, feeling how the newcomer's bursting breasts seemed so strong.
The British model tightened her lips as she continued to grind her breasts against the girl's, both thrusting and hissing as neither wanted to move back. To those watching from the outside, it looked like two watermelons smashing against two mangoes, where the latter seemed to get the worst of it.
"Come on, Jasmine." "Let it go," intervened her trainer, perhaps one of the few guys Rose had no chemistry with.
Before leaving the position, Jasmine pushed herself against Rose again, and this time what was unthinkable for the British girl happened. The breasts in the larger navy blue sports bra seemed to completely engulf Rose's breasts in the pink sports bra in front of everyone's eyes. The British girl herself noticed this, but the sensation in Jasmine's breast disappeared soon after.
Under Rose's gaze, Jasmine cast her a look of contempt, turning and walking to follow her trainer, then freezing after a few steps. With a smile on her face, she turned around, raised a finger, and pointed at the British girl.
"You know what?" I won't leave it alone,' she said, taking a few steps to the left. "I challenge you to arm wrestling." "Unless you're afraid a newcomer might beat you," Jasmine challenged her, leaning against the small table designated for that kind of competition.
Rose did not wait even a second before approaching and resting her elbow in the slot, placing her hand on the peg to her right. The Briton displayed the most arrogant and mischievous smile she had, widening her eyes as she accepted the amusing challenge.
"I don't promise I won't hurt you," Rose hissed.
"I'm not afraid," replied Jasmine, getting into position and bringing her hand closer to her rival's.
Growling, Rose closed her hand with that of the Iranian girl, while Jasmine's trainer placed his hands on those of the two girls, looking at them before giving the go-ahead.
The moment the trainer's hands lifted, both Rose and Jasmine began to pull, leaning forward as the other arm pulled hard to help with the strength test. The girls' biceps swelled, toned, and rounded as their hands trembled slightly, still in an equal position.
Jasmine looked up at her opponent with a tugged smile as she tried to put more strength into her arm, shifting Rose's hand slightly as she grunted in exertion. The British model returned the glance, tightening her lips and pulling harder. Their hands began to visibly shake as Jasmine's hand was moved back to its original position with an effort from both of them.
The people around the girls immediately began to cheer for their favorite, although, to Rose's annoyance, it seemed they all wanted to see her lose. Jasmine's name was almost always heard by both girls, and it seemed to give some strength to the newcomer, who, with a loud grunt, managed to gain more ground on Rose's arm.
The British girl sees how the girl's arm is swollen with power as she trembles, trying to overcome her strength. She feels her arm tremble from the effort as she tries to overtake her rival, but in another few seconds, Jasmine manages to gain more ground.
Rose could not admit that the newcomer was strong, but she could see the Iranian girl's effort in her eyes and behind her mocking smile. She felt Jasmine's arm trembling in the effort more than her own in that test of strength. Gritting her teeth, Rose planted her eyes in Jasmine's, increasing the strength in her arm, and saw a flash of frustration in her rival's eyes.
A few seconds later, the two girls' hands returned to the center, erasing any advantage the newcomer had gained against the "queen" of the gym. As they continued to stare at each other, beads of sweat began to trickle down their faces, trickling down towards their necks.
Very slowly, as if on purpose, Jasmine's arm began to be steadily pulled down, the newcomer grunting in exertion as she tried to stop her rival, unsuccessfully.
Jasmine's eyes registered the realization that she could not win this test of strength. She realized she had challenged Rose but had no hope of beating her. The Briton smiled as she finally felt her rival surrender before slamming Jasmine's hand against the red pad.
"Fuck yeah!" shouted Rose, raising her arms in victory.
Although most people were cheering against her, the crowd screamed in rapture as Jasmine felt her sore arm, still in disbelief that she had lost to that girl.
The British girl approached Jasmine as if to comfort her, resting a hand on her shoulder and bringing her face closer to the newcomer's so that her words would only be heard by her.
"At the end of practice, stay here."
Jasmine didn't understand why, but she had to admit that the situation was looking interesting. She could hear the demand in Rose's voice—a competitive but demanding tone that she couldn't say no to.
For the British model, she felt a desperate need for a new confrontation. Her pride had been hurt, even if imperceptibly to other people, but she felt it. Her breasts had been obliterated by Jasmine's, just before she was challenged to arm wrestling.
The next hour was different from the first; both Rose nor Jasmine didn't dignify each other with a glance as they continued their exercises, waiting as the gym emptied more and more. By the time the last of the people had left the locker room and the two girls were sure they were alone, the person at the reception desk was excluded, who, like every afternoon, was passing the time on Netflix with headphones on.
Jasmine and Rose met in the center of the room, amid all the machinery, standing a step apart, sweaty but still full of energy. The newcomer could still feel her arm throbbing in defeat; the site of their duel was only a few steps away.
"Well, bitch," asked Jasmine, impatient. "What do you want?"
Rose remained impassive, her gaze fixed on the newcomer's navy blue sports bra; her breasts seemed to want to break through the fabric. She hated to admit how intimidated she was by that breast, especially after feeling its strength.
"I want to challenge you, but this time in a more... feminine way," Rose replied, the fire in her eyes consuming Jasmine's "titfight."
Jasmine widened her eyes, lowering her gaze to the British girl's pink sports bra and raising it again into Rose's. She smiled, confident that this could be revenge for her humiliation in arm wrestling earlier.
Rose didn't need to know the answer; from Jasmine's gaze, she could see her desire to flatten the British girl, so she stripped off her sports bra and left it on the machinery beside her. Her breasts bounced slightly, firm and strong as ever.
Jasmine lowered her gaze, but the British model could see how her rival felt no fear at seeing her enemy’s breasts. From the start, the newcomer thought her body was more feminine and better than Rose's, and now that she saw her breasts, she seemed to become more and more convinced of that.
Smiling, she removed her sports bra and threw it on the same machine, while her breasts swayed on her chest. Rose could not hide her surprise; the Iranian girl's tits were huge. Jasmine smiled as she appreciated Rose's gaze.
"Afraid, bitch?" Jasmine smiled mischievously.
"Never," Rose replied.
Jasmine stepped forward and pushed her breasts against Rose's, who gasped in surprise as the larger pair collided with hers. Before the British model could react, the newcomer struck again with her breasts, knocking Rose back each time.
The gym queen finally reacted, stopping the advance by gritting her teeth and slamming her pair into her rival's. Under Rose's surprised gaze, when her tits hit Jasmine's, the newcomer seemed not to flinch.
With a new blow, the British girl's feet drew back again before she struck back. Each time Jasmine attacked using the weight of her breasts, Rose recoiled from the blow, slamming into the machinery before responding, unable to gain the lost ground.
Angrily, Rose leaned forward, pushing her breasts immediately into Jasmine's larger pair, who grunted annoyed but without losing her smile. The Iranian girl's flesh seemed to engulf the smaller pair each time, causing frustration in the British girl, who felt compelled to defend herself.
The harder Rose pushed, the more Jasmine responded, pushing her back step by step and moving around the gym. Try as she might, the gym queen could not stop the newcomer's advance. Jasmine kept thrusting her huge tits into Rose's, who was slowly losing ground.
"Feel my best breasts, bitch?" hissed Jasmine, amused.
Rose couldn't stand how the newcomer was dominating her. With each thrust, their breasts pressed together, feeling the weight of the Iranian girl's breasts push her away. Growling with rage, Rose pushed her breasts forward forcefully, and finally, she managed to slam her rival's breasts back. The Briton, however, did not even have a second to rejoice as Jasmine pushed in response, slamming her tits back.
Both girls increased the aggressiveness of the exchange, further increasing the force of each thrust. Realizing the disadvantageous situation, Rose began to use what she had to inflict as much damage as possible on Jasmine's pair. If they continued with only thrusts, the gym queen would most likely be defeated, so a change of strategy was needed.
Jasmine pushed forward again, knocking the British model back, who responded by swinging her breasts to the side. The British pair crashed against the newcomer's right breast, stealing her first moan of pain.
"Fucking bitch!" cried Jasmine.
Rose swung her breast to the other side, meeting the Iranian girl's left breast with a slap.
Jasmine moaned again but was quick to respond. The British model opened her mouth wide as Jasmine swung her breasts in turn, colliding with the British couple and causing Rose to turn from the force of the blow.
The gym queen forced herself to endure the pain, gritting her teeth and quickly moving back, thrusting her breasts forward as Jasmine regained momentum.
The newcomer's mouth opened breathlessly, feeling Rose's firm breasts piercing her flesh from the side. The British model thrust once more, scraping her nipples deeply into her rival's tender flesh.
Jasmine narrowed her eyes, thrusting forward angrily and slamming her breasts into Rose's pair, who stumbled back, slamming her shoulder into a machine.
Seeing her coming, the British model thrust her breasts forward, meeting Jasmine's larger pair haphazardly, but this time the British girl used her spikes to inflict damage, knowing that her size would not be enough to give her the advantage.
Both girls took to thrusting their breasts forward, shifting to inflict more damage on their rival, Jasmine using her size and Rose using her two spikes. Rarely, their nipples met directly, bouncing off each other and stabbing each other in the areolas.
The pain was obvious to both of them, the small moans and groans escaping their lips as the rival's tips configured into flesh or when the enemy’s breasts slammed hard into the other's chest.
The gym around them seemed to spin incessantly as the two girls slammed their breasts together, their moans becoming deeper as their attacks increased in intensity and rhythm.
Jasmine aimed to completely crush Rose's pride with her breasts, while the British girl tried hard to avoid it, inflicting enough damage on her rival to stop her.
Once again, both girls thrust their breasts forward, meeting nipple to nipple with force and pain. Jasmine gasped suddenly, closing her eyes as she felt her nipples being bent downward by Rose's.
"Fuck!" moaned the newcomer.
Rose pulled back and pushed her nipples into Jasmine's once more, bending them again and making her moan.
"Feel my best nipples, slut?" growled Rose.
Jasmine hissed and pushed even harder, trying to ignore the pain. Rose seemed invigorated, pushing her breasts faster against the larger pair and scraping Jasmine's flesh with her nipples. She refused to believe the slut in front of her was any better. The girls continued to thrust even harder, incessantly slamming their breasts together and moving around the gym.
When their nipples met directly again, Jasmine gasped in disbelief. Rose could feel it; her nipples did not only bend the rival ones but crushed them against Jasmine's breasts.
The Iranian girl staggered backward, bumping into a machine before she managed to stop with a mask of surprise and pain on her face. When she saw Rose approaching quickly, Jasmine raised her hands on the British girl's shoulders, grunting as her firm breasts hit, the flesh trembling violently on her chest.
Jasmine tried to recover, but Rose immediately brought her breasts into collision with the Iranian pair, feeling as the newcomer gasped in pain. A loud, meaty pop echoed through the empty gym, followed by a guttural moan from Jasmine, who moved her hands to Rose's back.
"Is that what you want, bitch?" hissed the Briton, "we'll see who's the better woman now."
Rose's arms tightened around Jasmine's waist, pulling her tightly to herself. The newcomer let out a grunt as their breasts flattened against each other. Locked in that embrace, Rose had bet everything on her breasts, confident that she could win the challenge and erase the previous humiliation.
They both tightened their grip, and Jasmine grunted in annoyance at feeling the enemy’s breast against hers. Groaning, the newcomer began to thrust harder, slapping her breasts together with her rivals, both pairs bending over each other.
Rose grunted as she felt further pressure on her chest, alternating with Jasmine in tightening her grip, feeling her flesh swell to the side, lowering her gaze to the duel between their flesh.
With heavy breathing, Jasmine began to twist her torso, rubbing her tits on the British pair as Rose pushed forward, squeezing the larger breast outward.
"Bitch, your small breasts cannot win," Jasmine hissed at the newcomer.
The Iranian girl tightened her grip even more, and Rose had to struggle to resist the rival force, but she felt the restlessness growing stronger. Pushing in a final, desperate battle of firmness, Rose felt as the larger rival breast began to envelop her pair.
She couldn't believe what she was feeling—the rival flesh slowly spilling over hers—and she pushed her tits forward harder to make up ground.
"Can you feel it?" "My huge breasts are crushing you, bitch," Jasmine hissed with an arrogant smile, watching her rival's desperate expression.
Rose felt defeat drawing closer and closer, the difference between their breasts becoming harder and harder to make up. She knew that if she continued like this, she would surely lose.
With one last desperate push, Rose's breasts regained the space between them, causing the newcomer to grunt and stumble back. Using all her weight, Rose pushed once more, and Jasmine's legs seemed to collapse.
They landed on the gym bench, none of them realizing they had come so close to that machine. Jasmine landed on her back with a groan as her breasts continued the duel with the British pair.
Rose's arms immediately lunged past her rival's body, closing right under the bench. She began to pull hard, pushing her breasts into the larger pair.
Jasmine screamed in pain, feeling her breasts being pierced by the rival pair. The newcomer looked down, tears in her eyes, as she saw her huge breasts retreating, being forced to yield to the sides by the smaller pair.
"No! no! no!" whimpered Jasmine, trying to push back.
For a second, the larger pair seemed to stop Rose's breasts, but when she pulled again, the smaller breast continued its slow dominance.
A few seconds later, Rose had finally pinned Jasmine's flat breasts against her ribcage, shattering the girl's pride and avenging her previous humiliation.
"The real woman is me," whispered Rose, her voice choked with breathlessness.
The Briton could see tears beginning to flow down her rival's cheeks. She pushed her tits forward again, slowly. Jasmine could feel again how her breasts flattened, losing their shape against the stronger breast.
Rose took a second to enjoy the girl's defeated moans before reaching up slightly and pulling her mobile phone out of her pocket. Coming back down and visibly flattening her rival's breasts, Rose snapped a photo with an arrogant smile. Afterward, she stood up from the bench, the cold air hitting her hard.
"Now you know why I'm the queen of the gym, bitch," sneered the model, slapping her defeated rival's sagging breasts with her hand.
Jasmine moaned, crying, as the British girl felt the sensation of defeat in her breasts. Although she had won, she knew that if Jasmine did not fall, she would lose.
"This is your protégé. Now even she knows who's better," the Briton said, loud enough to be heard by Jasmine as well. Finally, she attached the photo she had taken earlier, where her breasts had defeated Jasmine's pair on the bench.
In the end, there was only one queen.
