[katietay]

Just felt like a little contribution here.

**

Every year, Dahlia Kwan is happy to participate in the annual Santa Clara Iron Woman Fitness Challenge - she's taken part every year since graduating from Berkeley - but this year she's extra happy. This year, her mom has finally consented to taking part with her, and 50-year-old Karen Kwan has a rocking physique to display. Dahlia is a regular in the gym, and does a lot of strength training. She has dabbled in powerlifting and even a little CrossFit, and she has the physique to show for it. Karen has a strong, sturdy frame, and took up lifting weights a few years ago at her daughter's urging. She's put on a decent amount of muscle, and in her bikini top she looks formidably strong.

Karen doesn't feel confident enough in her technique to try the weightlifting events, though, so the Mother-Daughter Half-Marathon is the only event they've signed up for together. She's content to watch Dahlia perform some of the harder lifts, including the power snatch. But then, Dahlia spies a fun little event - an Arm Wrestling tournament. She playfully squeezes her mother's guns. Karen flexes obligingly, and Dahlia says how wonderful it would be if they could beat the others and face off against each other in the finals. Karen laughingly agrees, and they go to sign up.

But at the signup table, they run into some people they would rather not meet. Sylvia Steele and her mother Sheila are there as well, and they greet one another unenthusiastically. Karen and Sheila have known each other for years, and over the course of their interactions they've found many more points of disagreement than concord. Their daughters are no friendlier with each other.

"Fancy seeing you here," Sheila says, with a faintly mocking smile that verges on outright rudeness. "Didn't figure you for the fitness type." She herself is a large, chunky blonde woman, strong-looking but definitely not lean. In her sports bra and shorts, rolls of fat come out over the edges. She's not obese, but she's tall and hefty.

"We've been working out together, as you can see," Dahlia says with a proud sidelong glance at her mom. "Just thought we'd come here and soak in the atmosphere, crush a few events."

"Oh, really?" Sylvia responds, folding her arms across her chest. She's wearing an outfit to match her mother's, and a cap turned backwards. Her blonde hair is cut chin-length, such that her well-developed trapezius muscles are on display. She, too, is a gym enthusiast, and has been heavily into powerlifting and Olympic lifts, a bit more than Dahlia has. "Well, a pity we're here, then. Means you won't get to crush this event."

"Well, we'll certainly do our best," Karen says diplomatically, with a polite smile.

But Dahlia isn't as diplomatic. "Oh, and what's that supposed to mean, Sylvia?" she demands, stepping forward with hands on hips. "Think you can beat us?"

"Well," Sylvia says, and casually puts up her right arm for a quick pump of her biceps, "don't see why not. I could take you any day, I think, and probably your mom too."

Dahlia bristles, but Karen puts a restraining hand on her daughter's arm. "Let's save it for the table," she says calmly. "Come on, Dahlia."

They move apart, but Karen turns around and catches Sheila's eye, and they indulge in a little surreptitious mutual appraisal, their gazes roving up and down over each other's physique. Sheila smirks, and clenches her fist, doing a little side flex of her biceps. Karen doesn't respond, but her jaw firms and she looks away.

"We're not going to take that lying down, are we, Mom?" Dahlia grouses.

"No, we're not. I hope we draw them," Karen says. Then she sighs. "They both look really strong."

"Mom, we can do it. We can take them," Dahlia says, grabbing hold of Karen's hand and squeezing it encouragingly. Karen squeezes back and gives her a reassuring smile.

As it turns out, the response for the Arm Wrestling event is overwhelming, and the organizers have to cap it at 32. Dahlia and Karen are the final two to successfully register - Sheila and Sylvia are in, as well. The women are separated into 4 brackets. As luck would have it, each of the four women ends up in a different one.

Sylvia is in Bracket A, and easily rises to the top, beating 3 others handily. None of the 3 are particularly fit or strong, and clearly took part just for fun. She grins and poses after each match, flexing her large biceps.

Dahlia is in Bracket B, and encounters a tough match only in the final round, against an older woman who looks quite muscular. They struggle back and forth for quite some minutes before Dahlia prevails, since the older woman's endurance gives out first. After a handshake and hug, Dahlia smiles and poses for the applauding crowd, flexing her shapely biceps. She flexes especially hard for her clapping mother, with a private wink and smoldering look that only the two of them understand.

Karen is in Bracket C, and along with her are several tough, buff women. Her first match is against a young, sporty one who looks like a volleyball player, and has the forearms to match. She manages to eke out a victory after a long, hard struggle. Then her second match is against another mother about the same age who proves surprisingly strong despite her spare, lanky frame. Her long limbs give her an advantage over Karen, and again Karen has to struggle with all her might to pull off a victory. And for the finals in her bracket, she's up against a short, stocky woman with thick, strong arms, who happens to work as a welder (as she tells the emcee before the match). Neither woman has any technique, but the welder woman digs in and holds her arm in place, trying to make it a match of pure endurance. Karen has to flex like she's never flexed before, straining and sweating, grimacing and moaning with pain, while Dahlia cheers her on from below the stage until she's hoarse. With Dahlia's encouragement in her ears, Karen just refuses to give in to the muscle fatigue, and finally wins the test of strength and will against her opponent. They exchange an exhausted hug, and then Karen practically falls into her daughter's embrace, allowing Dahlia to try and rub some life back into her sore arm muscles.

In Bracket D, Sheila dominates with her size and power, winning all 3 of her matches with ease like her daughter did, and flexing proudly at the end, with a pointed look reserved for Karen and Dahlia. None of her opponents looked very strong, though.

The final four are supposed to face off against each other by random draw, but Sylvia draws the organizers aside and speaks privately to them, making a few suggestions of her own. They come back with an announcement: since the final four are two mother-daughter pairs who are acquainted with each other, they would make it a friendly family rivalry! Daughter against daughter, mother against mother - the prize money (a token sum of a few hundred dollars) would be split 2 ways.

This attracts considerable attention. All eyes are on the two pairs who're getting ready for their contest. It'll be the daughters up first, fighting for family pride.

Dahlia and Sylvia both kiss their mothers on the cheeks before they step forward and up to the table, already locking eyes in a battle of will. They bend over, grip the handbars, and start to lock hands...

[katietay]

Karen and Sheila start calling out encouragement to their respective daughters, even before the match starts proper. The two younger women lock hands tightly. The referee checks their grip. Then, she places a hand firmly on their clasped fists, which are already trembling finely.

"Ready... go!" And the referee's hand flies up and away, and the daughters go at it.

Their arm muscles jump into stark relief, bunching up immediately into lumps of power. Their shoulder striations stand out sharply. For the first few seconds they are evenly matched, shaking violently, and then... Dahlia takes the lead!

She exults silently as she jerks Sylvia's thicker arm down a good portion of the way. Sylvia looks ferocious as she hunkers down to stop Dahlia from making any more progress. Strong muscles ripple across both bodies. They maintain eye contact, continuing their duel of willpower.

Each daughter knows that she is a living showcase of her mother's best qualities - genes, upbringing, everything. Dahlia feels the familiar arousal starting deep in her loins. She knows it's her muscle, given to her by Karen, that's winning out against their detested rivals' muscle. She leans in and pulls with everything she has. She wants so much for her mother to see her win. The rest of the spectators watching her beat Sylvia is just an added bonus.

Sylvia leans in as well, bending her head slightly but still not taking her eyes off Dahlia's. Her muscular arm is flexed to the maximum as she resists Dahlia's power. Despite herself, Dahlia is impressed at the size of Sylvia's arm. She can feel how strong her opponent is. She decides she has to go for a quicker win, to improve her odds. She gives it her all, nothing held back.

Both daughters moan and groan, trembling slightly as their match slowly turns into a slow grind. Dahlia gets Sylvia's arm down to more than three-quarters of the way down, a mere few inches from defeat, but there Sylvia manages to find some reserve of strength and holds her off. Their mothers, meanwhile, are practically screaming.

Karen stares raptly at the match, especially at the lovely tapestry of ridged muscles on her daughter's back. "That's it, baby, that's it... just a little bit more..." she yells. Her heart is bursting with pride right now, watching the smaller Dahlia dominate against the larger Sylvia, her rival's daughter. Her eyes crinkle with pleasure. Reflexively she clenches her pussy walls, tightening her kegels.

Sheila's fists are tightly clenched as she half-raises her arms, as if she were pounding an invisible table. "Hold her... come on... you can do it... don't you dare give up honey... don't you dare... you can take her, you can do it..."

Sylvia gives up just a little more ground, and the referee is crouching, eyes fixed on the match, ready to call it the moment Sylvia's hand touches the pad.

Dahlia gasps and pants as if she's running a marathon. Beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. She's almost won, she's so close, but somehow Sylvia is still holding against her, fighting her for every fraction of an inch. The burning in her arm and shoulder keeps growing and growing.

Do it for Mom, she exhorts herself silently. Show them she's given me the better muscles.

Then from somewhere deep inside, Sylvia finds a second wind. Her wrist comes up again, bending Dahlia's back at just the right angle, and with that little extra leverage she pulls her arm back just a little bit, enough to be seen by the crowd.

The crown goes wild. Those who were previously cheering to see the slender and leaner Dahlia take a huge lead are now cheering to see Sylvia start to make an impossible movie-style comeback, especially as the long moments pass and Dahlia fails to reverse the gain. Then Sylvia pulls back by yet another inch, and everyone can sense the tables are starting to turn.

"Yes!" Sheila screams from the side.

"Come on! Keep going! You've got this!" Karen is starting to sound more frantic by the second.

The two daughters, locked in their punishing arm war, can feel the truth, see it in each other's eyes. Dahlia is futilely fighting down muscle exhaustion and rising panic, and Sylvia can see it clearly. She bares her teeth in a wild grin. Dahlia meanwhile can see the growing triumph in Sylvia's eyes, as the realization sinks in for both of them: Dahlia is all gassed out. She's given everything she has, and it wasn't good enough. She's got nothing left in the tank. Whereas, Sylvia still has that little bit to keep her going. Dahlia's muscles are starting to give out.

Inch by inch, but more and more quickly, Sylvia pulls their arms back upright. Every single inch is excruciating torture for Dahlia, desperately disheartening, as victory moves further and further away from her. The tears are coming to her eyes, not just from the pain, but from growing despair. She desperately wants not to lose to Sylvia like this, not in front of their mothers, or a crowd.

But she can't go on. Her muscles have been taxed to their limit. Only sheer willpower keeps her going for just a few more moments, as their hands wobble from side to side in the middle.

Then with a single smooth motion, Sylvia pulls her arm down all the way, pressing her hand onto the pad. The referee's swift chopping gesture seals it - it's over.

Dahlia has lost. Sylvia has won.

At the instant of her defeat, Dahlia looks away, unable to keep looking into Sylvia's eyes, unable to bear the ugly gloating triumph she sees there. Sylvia sags with sheer relief, but quickly recovers and steps away from the table, raising her arms high, looking magnificent in her sports bra. Then Sheila embraces her from behind, and she turns around laughing happily. The proud mother and her victorious daughter share a tight embrace, burying their faces in the crook of each other's necks. Then Sheila grabs her daughter's arm and raises it, grinning broadly at the cheering crowd.

On the other side of the stage, Karen enfolds her daughter in a hard, loving embrace. Dahlia sniffles and rests her forehead on Karen's shoulder, while Karen strokes her back consolingly.

There is a final bit of salt to rub into the wound suffered by the Kwans. The emcee insists that the daughters come back to the center of the table, and the referee ceremoniously takes both their hands, and then raises Sylvia's, to officially signify that she is the winner. Sylvia smirks at Dahlia, but Dahlia can't meet her gaze.

Sylvia has proven to be the stronger, better daughter, at least in this contest.

And now the mothers step up, flexing their fingers, staring at each other across the table. Karen is ready to avenge her daughter's defeat and win back some pride for their family. Sheila is ready to put the finishing touches on the statement her daughter has already made: that they are the superior mother and daughter, stronger and sexier.

At the referee's signal, they lean forward, grab the handbars, and put their elbows up on the pads...

[katietay]

The two older women lock gazes and hook their thumbs slowly, almost sensually, under the supervision of the referee.

Their rivalry has reached a crucial cusp. Over the years they've kept tabs on each other, exchanging the occasional correspondence. Discreetly, covertly, they've been comparing each other's lives. Where Sheila lucked out a bit and has done a little better financially, Dahlia has done better in school, but the daughters are about evenly matched in athletic achievements.

Now here they are, up on a stage, musculature on display, about to arm wrestle to see who the better woman is while their daughters look on.

The larger, bulkier Sheila smirks and says in a low voice, "Did you enjoy our girls' match as much as I did? The look on your suffering Dahlia's face..." She licks her lips sadistically.

Karen recognizes this for the psyche-out attempt it is, but that is no protection - it works. Her face flushes with anger. "She almost had the match. I'd back her any day against your Sylvia."

Their hands are clasped tightly together now, and the referee puts her hand onto theirs, preparing to start them off. "Ready?" she asks. Karen and Sheila in turn give her a firm, sharp nod, not taking their eyes off each other. The tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Behind Sheila, Sylvia catches Dahlia's eye, pumps her right biceps - still bulging from their match - and winks. Dahlia trembles with anger, but turns her gaze to her mother. Her eyes rove all over Karen's toned physique. Every line of muscle on Karen's body is taut.

They both know a lot of the credit for Karen's physique improvement can be credited to Dahlia, who drew up the training programs and eating plans. Nothing too extreme - just a sensible high-protein low-sugar diet, and intense movement-based weight training four times a week in the gym. Karen isn't winning any bodybuilding or strongwoman contests any time soon, but she's already much fitter and stronger than almost any other woman her age in the whole county. When Karen is put to the test like this, Dahlia is, as well, in a way.

The match begins. With a huge grunt, Sheila surges forward, putting her shoulder into it and making it a pushing movement. Karen cries out sharply at the sudden strain on her arm. She manages to absorb most of the attack, however, and holds Sheila off, but the blonde has seized a sizable advantage. Their daughters' voices rise above the clamor of the cheering crowd. Sylvia sounds thrilled as she screams for her mother to slam Karen down all the way. Dahlia frantically urges her mother to hang in there and pull back.

For about thirty long seconds their hands waver in that position, about a third of the way down on Karen's side. The strain is greater for Karen that it is for Sheila, and it shows on the lines of suffering etched on her face. Sheila huffs and puffs and grunts like a she-bear, trying as hard as she can to break down Karen's resistance by sheer brute power.

"Come on, Mom! I love you! You can do it! I love you, Mom! Come on!" Dahlia yells with abandon, so agitated that she's tearing up, not caring how she may seem to other people.

With this love being poured into her ears, Karen rallies. With a low, long growl she pulls as hard as she's ever pulled. Sheila is just slackening off slightly at that moment to catch her breath, and fails to stop Karen's counterattack. Their arms go back to the center and stay there, still trembling violently.

The first volley has been exchanged, but the real match is just beginning. Karen finds to her dismay that she can do little else but counter Sheila's strength, holding her in place. Her eyes blaze as she glares at her rival. For years she's put up with assorted instances of Sheila's general odiousness, her rude and dismissive putdowns, her willful ignorance stemming from casual racism. Sheila's palm feels hot and hard against her own. She strives with every fiber of her being to shift their hands to her left, and inwards. To win.

Sheila for her part glares back with equal ferocity. She's always felt mildly but persistently infuriated by Karen's whole demeanor, her reserved attitude that seems to bespeak arrogance. Even the way she walks pisses Sheila off - so prim and proper, like some kind of high society lady, when really they're not so different. No - Sheila is better, she has always believed so. Her daughter has struck a good solid blow for Steeles vs Kwans. Now it's her turn, in this primal face-to-face contest pitting muscle against muscle, will against will. She'll do what it takes to show everyone who the better woman is. To win.

Taking a deep breath, she seizes the initiative again. Her thick arm bulges as she ramps up the power, trying to grind Karen down. The fat on her arm wobbles and jiggles, but it's still a strong arm, with a big biceps. Karen groans, and gives way a little bit. She endures Sheila's burst of strength until once again Sheila has to pause for a while to regain some energy, and their arms go back to neutral.

Sheila sucks in air through her clenched teeth, breathing hard and fast. Sweat trickles down her cheeks. Deep down she is concerned that she can't go the distance, that Karen could outlast her just as her daughter Sylvia outlasted Dahlia. But Sylvia shouts, "You're the bigger and stronger woman, Mom! You can do it! Just keep flexing and take her down!" Sheila takes heart from that, and gathers herself for another assault.

Karen's mouth hangs open as she gulps in oxygen to fuel her muscles. Sweat beads her upper lip and brow. She can feel the aching in her elbow and shoulder joints. She has to fight down her frustration at being on the defensive. She can't seem to muster the necessary power to get any advantage. Perhaps she'll have to try and outlast her larger and stronger opponent. Yes, stronger - admitting this is a bitter pill to swallow, but she can feel now that she can't match Sheila for raw muscle power. She hunkers down for a defensive arm war.

The match enters its second minute. The same thing happens a few more times. Sheila exerts herself and tries to overpower Karen, Karen resists and goes down quite a long way, until Sheila's burst ends, and their arms go right back up. Each and every time, Karen's arm goes a bit lower than before. And Karen looks more drained and more exhausted after every return to the middle. The look in her eyes is growing increasingly desperate, even though she tries her best to project confidence through her gaze.

Sheila's fatigue is growing too. Her arm is shaking very violently now, and the fat below her triceps is wobbling like pudding. Part of her deeply resents this, since Karen's triceps are sharp and well-defined. I just want to slam that skinny arm down, she thinks, even though that "skinny" arm isn't that skinny, and is fairly well-muscled. Why is it so fucking hard? Just give up already, you bitch!

The match enters the third minute. This is an incredible battle of wills, and no one can take their eyes off the sight. After yet another close brush with defeat, in which Karen is brought down almost three-quarters of the way down, Karen finally breaks eye contact first, bowing her head. A sob of pain and frustration escapes her lips. Her arm is weakening. She doesn't know how much longer she can last. But an answering gasp of vexation also comes out of Sheila. She has just been so close to victory - seconds away, she's sure, but she just couldn't keep the pressure up. The soreness is starting to sap her strength. If she doesn't win the next rally, she feels she might just lose ignominiously, as Dahlia did earlier.

Both daughters instinctively sense their mothers' plight, and realize that it's come down to the wire. They both step in closer, until they're beside their respective mothers. The referee remonstrates with them while trying not to take her eyes off the contestants, but rolls her eyes and decides to allow it, since they're not yet interfering with the match. This show of daughterly devotion excites the spectators even further. Everyone can sense how high the emotional stakes are in this contest.

"Come on Mom... hang in there... you can do it, don't give up..." Dahlia unfortunately sounds like she's almost pleading or begging with her mother not to lose, but she can't help it. Her face is creased with worry as she takes in just how tired her mother is.

"Come on Mom... come on... you got this... she's on the ropes, you've got her... don't let up now... don't let it go now..." Sylvia sounds almost savage as she growls her encouragement, willing her mother's muscles not to let her down.

Three and a half minutes of the match have gone by. The referee starts to say, "This is a tie..." And she is immediately met by a vehement response from four throats. "No!"

"This is it, Karen," Sheila gasps, her voice sounding ragged and raw. "Do or die. You're going down."

"No," Karen replies hoarsely. "You are."

They squeeze their eyes shut, and pull with all their remaining strength.

And then...

[lifeofriley]

great!!!! 

[katietay]

With a thump, Sheila slams Karen's hand down onto the pad.

The reactions are instantaneous. Half of the crowd throw up their arms and whoop, while the other half slump and groan with disappointment. Sheila and Karen both sag against the table, as their bodies finally relax. For a few seconds longer they hold each other's gazes; Karen cannot help but look desolate, while Sheila's eyes dance with wild, sensual gratification.

Then Sylvia throws her arms around her victorious mother, who laughs and lets go of Karen's captive hand, and then enfolds Sylvia in a tight whirling embrace. They are both all smiles, teeth gleaming, eyes crinkled with pleasure.

Dahlia slips an arm around her mother's waist. Karen is still leaning against the table, with head bowed. Dahlia presses herself against her mother, bending down and softly rubbing their cheeks together.

"You were great, Mom," she murmurs as she plants some kisses on her mother's cheek.

"I'm sorry, darling. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't win," Karen whispers back, still panting and catching her breath. She turns her head slightly and Dahlia can see the unshed tears in her mother's eyes. "I let you down."

"No, Mom," Dahlia says, feeling the hot tears spring to her eyes too. "You did your best, you were wonderful. I'm so proud of you. But I let you down, I should've won my match..."

"No, Dahlia, you made me so proud, you were so strong. I'm so proud of you."

They embrace tightly, pressing their foreheads together.

The referee looks at all this, and gives the emcee a questioning look. The emcee grins and gestures for her to carry on with the necessary post-match ritual. This whole arm wrestling tournament event was her idea, that she'd pitched to the organizers of the Iron Woman Fitness Challenge. She'd been hoping for a decent turnout, but this gripping emotional drama for the final four contestants is far beyond what she'd expected. She can see how captivated the spectators are by the scene before them, the duels they've just witnessed. This couldn't have turned out better if she'd hired actors to play out the script.

So the referee gets Karen and Sheila to stand to either side of her, and each daughter grips her daughter's hand tightly. Then Sheila's arm is raised in victory, and Sylvia raises Sheila's other arm too. Sheila looks like a real champion, tall and broad, with thick arms raised in triumph. Her nipples are so stiff they protrude through her sports bra.

At the first opportunity, Karen frees her arm and turns away, embracing her daughter again. She and Dahlia just want to get somewhere away from all the watchers, and lick each other's wounded pride in some privacy. But Sheila and Sylvia move to bar their way.

"Looks like we're the stronger, sexier mother-daughter team," Sylvia gloats.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dahlia demands, her voice low and angry. "Fuck off. Let's go, Mom."

"So you don't deny that we're the better women?" Sylvia says loudly, careless of the people around them who stare curiously. "You acknowledge my mom's a better woman than yours?"

"Like hell I do!"

Sheila and Karen meanwhile glare daggers at each other, their animosity open now and unconcealed. "Surely you don't think this proves anything like what you seem to think it does?" Karen says, her voice brittle with incredulity. "Are you serious? Do you think an arm wrestling match makes you better than me?"

"And everyone with eyes could see," Dahlia cuts in, "that Mom's bracket was so much tougher than your mother's. My mom's arm was already tired from all her tough opponents. If they're both fresh, it'd be a very different story."

"Excuses," Sylvia sneers. "Face it. We're bigger, stronger, and just plain better than you two. Let's have a rematch if you like, I'll beat you again."

Before Dahlia can accept, though, Sheila speaks up. "You and I need to settle this, Karen."

"Yes. This has been between us for years."

"It's not just between us anymore. You know it. It seems our darling girls are part of it now, as well."

"That's my Dahlia's choice, if she wants it or not."

"Mom," Dahlia says, hooking her arm through Karen's, "I'm with you, no matter what it is they try."

"Then it's you and me, bitch," Sylvia says, doing the same with her mother's arm. "Us two, against you two."

"What do you think you're going to do now, Sheila?" Karen's voice is tight with restrained outrage. "This is a public place. Not the place to cause a scene."

"Of course not," Sheila snorts derisively. "I'm not going to get into a scrap with you here and now. We're civilized too, you know. But we've already brought you two down a peg, or two..." She smiles nastily. "This is a great Fitness Challenge they've got going on here, you know. So many stations, events, competitions. So many ways for us to humiliate you."

"We won't stay around to play with you all day. We've got things to be getting on with," Karen says curtly.

"You can beat a retreat any time you like... losers. Or..." Sheila jerks a thumb over at the area cordoned off for a tug-of-war challenge, where apparently the tournament is already underway and various mother-daughter teams are already having at it, competing in teams of 2 or more while the onlookers scream and laugh to see such sport. One of the matches going on is apparently between teams of 4 - one side has what appears to be one mother and 3 of her daughters, pulling against two other pairs on the other side. The team with the mother and three sisters seems to be winning.

"How about it? One for the road?" Sheila throws out the challenge with a mocking grin.

Sylvia mirrors that grin, and stands in a cocksure posure. "Come on, Dahlia. Think you can take us? After we drag your asses over the line there'll be nothing for it, you'll have to admit we're better than you."

"How about an additional forfeit, just to make sure we have something real on the line," Sheila adds. "Losers will have to kiss winners' muscles in front of everyone." She flexes her strong right arm proudly.

"Yeah, great idea, Mom!" Sylvia, visibly enthused, flexes her left arm, hugging her mother close with her right. "Come on, Dahlia, Karen... unless you're afraid of being humiliated!"

Dahlia and Karen exchange a long, wordless look. Then Karen gives a single sharp nod of affirmation. They both turn back to their rivals, holding each other's hands tightly.

"Challenge accepted." Dahlia flexes her right arm, glaring at Sylvia. Karen flexes her left, glaring at Sheila.

A small circle of curious bystanders has gathered. "Wow, they sure are taking this fitness challenge thing seriously," someone remarks.

"Maybe we should go get fired up too," a daughter says while nudging her mother.

"I wonder what beef they've got, between their families."

"Beats me, but they're really taking this stuff personally. Did you see the tears in their eyes just then? Geez, it's just arm wrestling..."

They wouldn't understand, all four women think at once. This is much more than just a game. This is a long-running contest for supremacy and dominance.

Slowly they break the posedown and walk together to the tug-of-war arena, where again they speak to the woman in charge and secure a rope and a lane for themselves.

They stand barefoot on the grass, preparing to begin. The rope has the center marking in red, and two additional markings in white - the white marking of the opposing side has to pass the two poles in the center for the victory. The mothers stand right behind their daughters as they pick up the rope together, and the referee goes around making sure all is in order.

This contest seems to heavily favor the Steeles, on account of their combined body weight. The smaller, slighter Asians are the clear underdogs here. But as the four women get into position and grip the rope tightly, there is nothing but determination on the faces of Karen and Dahlia.

Can they pull one back for their team? Are they stronger together? Or will this end with their lips pressed against their rivals' biceps?

[katietay]

They dig in, and brace themselves. Muscles flex and tauten on all four bodies. The rope vibrates with the tension.

The whistle blows, the referee's hand chops down.

From the get-go, they put their backs into it, grunting loudly and unselfconsciously, uncaring about how undignified they may or may not look. This is all-out war, a test of their combined full-body strength and willpower.

Thigh muscles harden, more sharply defined for the Kwans than the Steeles. But the Steeles sport larger calves and thicker glutes. Karen and Dahlia grip the rope with corded forearms, making their defined triceps jut out on their arms. Sylvia and Sheila flex their broad backs and lean backwards as far as they can go. The lean abs ripple on Karen's and Dahlia's torsos. The biceps of Sylvia and Sheila bunch up into solid lumps.

Slowly, the marker shifts, in favor of the Steeles.

Grimly, the Kwans hold on, digging in with everything they've got. Their opponents outweigh them by maybe 50 pounds, and just might have the strength advantage too. And endurance, as well. The discouraging thought flashes through both their minds: is sheer willpower the only possible way they can win this?

Their feet drag in the grass, carving furrows. They are halfway to defeat.

Blinking sweat out of her eyes, Karen says breathlessly to her daughter, who is straining and flexing in front of her, "We have to work together. One-two-heave."

"Yes, Mom," Dahlia gasps over her shoulder. "Together."

Karen does the count, pitching it just loudly enough for her daughter to hear. "One, two - heave! One, two - heave!" Dahlia obeys her command and follows her rhythm, thrusting with her legs with each grunt of "heave". The exertion needed distorts the word from Karen's mouth; it comes out as more of a "heeenghh". Nevertheless, it works, and their bursts of power become more coordinated.

This has a noticeable effect. With each yank, they begin to claw back the ground they've lost. Sheila and Sylvia stumble, looks of angry frustration on their faces. They are still confident of outmuscling their rivals at this, so they simply keep pulling.

In the rear, Sheila leans back so far that she's at about a 30-degree incline. She sees herself as the heavyweight anchor, with her weight and muscle mass holding down the rope. Her strong, sexy daughter in front is doing most of the pulling and leg thrusting. She augments Sylvia's efforts with her steady, unflagging strength.

The Kwans manage a spectacular comeback, dragging the marker all the way back to dead center. The Steeles are both growing increasingly frustrated. Incredulous looks flash across their faces. "This can't be!" is the uppermost thought in their minds.

But sweat is pouring from every pore on Karen and Dahlia. The lactic acid buildup eats into their muscles. The aching and soreness are only increasing. Karen's voice is cracking. And through the rope, their opponents still feel so strong, so indefatigable.

It is still anybody's match. Which desperately straining mother-daughter couple will display true grit and prevail, in this brutal tug-of-war?

[katietay]

Dahlia's eyes are squeezed tightly shut. She cannot open them anymore without feeling the sting of sweat in them; her face is bathed in perspiration. Her body aches all over. Her palms hurt from gripping the rope. Her leg muscles shake with fatigue.

Her world is reduced to her physical struggle, and the faint sound of her mother's voice calling out. "One - two - heave. One - two - heave." The voice is weakening, like their muscles. Dahlia, the dutiful daughter, forces her body to obey the chant, pulling in tandem with Karen. She feels as though she will collapse any second.

Then, a new sound pierces the air - the referee's whistle blows. The rope goes slack at the same moment as Dahlia finally gives in to her exhaustion, and falls backwards. She sags against her mother's warm, sweat-slicked body, and they both fall back onto the grass in a tangle, panting and wheezing fit to burst.

With a few quick strokes of her forearm Dahlia clears the sweat from her eyes, and opens them blearily. The air is filled with the sounds of clapping and cheering. Karen hugs her from behind, just underneath her breasts. "Dahlia, honey... we did it," she whispers hoarsely, almost sobbing. "We won."

It's true. Across the grass lane, Sheila and Sylvia are huddled together, heads bowed and touching, arms around each other. Their faces are shadowed, but Dahlia can see their expressions well enough to know that they are distraught.

She blinks away tears of happiness. "We did it, Mom," she says, turning her head to the side. "Together. We beat them."

Karen smiles and nods, and leans in to plant a soft kiss on her daughter's lips. Dahlia eagerly puckers up to receive it. Her eyes promise further intimacies later.

Then they get up onto wobbly legs, and walk unsteadily across to their defeated opponents, each woman keeping the other from falling. Sheila and Sylvia rise shakily to their feet at the approach of their adversaries. They glower.

"We won," Karen states the obvious. "We beat you together."

"We're better than you," Dahlia tosses out.

"Like hell you are," Sylvia spits.

The four of them stand almost toe to toe with one another. Karen raises her right arm and flexes it. Beside her, Dahlia follows suit with her left arm. Karen cocks her head and gives them a quizzical look. "Well?"

Sheila folds her arms across her chest. "We're not doing it."

"Yeah! Forget it!" Sylvia says, copying her mother's intransigent pose.

Dahlia's face darkens. "You're going to renege? We beat you fair and square, our muscle against yours!"

"We just think you haven't earned this," Sylvia tells her snidely. "We both beat you at arm wrestling, so where's our muscle worship?"

"We both had tougher opponents than you, in our brackets," Dahlia says hotly.

"That's a bullshit excuse, we had plenty of time to rest and recharge before our matches," Sylvia argues back.

"A deal is a deal, Sheila. Does your word mean anything?" Karen asks quietly.

Sheila stands quietly for a while. Then she uncrosses her arms, bends down, and plants a firm kiss on her rival's flexed biceps.

"Dammit... Mom..." Sylvia groans with frustration, but with her mom deciding to cave in and honor the agreement she has no choice either. Glaring at the slight smirk on Dahlia's face, she bends down and gives Dahlia's muscles a quick peck. Satisfied, the Kwans put their arms down.

"This isn't over," Sheila says softly, holding Karen's gaze.

"If you say so."

"I'm serious, and you know it too. We've let this brew far too long."

"Maybe so."

"Let's have it out. Let's see who the better woman is. You and me."

"Don't forget about us," Sylvia chimes in, and steps in so close that her chest and forehead push against Dahlia, who doesn't give an inch. "We're in this together now, Mom. Dahlia and me, we'll have it out between us too."

"Any time, Sylvia," Dahlia says.

Then the organizers and some security people come to break them up, concerned at what seems to be shaping up into a brawl. The four immediately step apart and put on a facade of friendliness, laughing and smiling, trying to assure the officials that nothing untoward is going on, that they're old friends and they're just having a comically intense moment for laughs.

"It's just all in good fun," they say, chuckling. "Sorry for what it looks like! This is just a misunderstanding. We're going out together right now for some pizza, in fact!"

Mollified, the event officials retreat. Tension is defused... on the surface.

"We'll be in touch," Sheila promises, as she and Sylvia walk off arm in arm, none too steadily on wobbly legs.

"We'll be waiting," Karen replies, linking arms with Dahlia.

Left alone now, they look into each other's eyes lovingly, proudly. Then Dahlia grins. "Pizza actually sounds like a really good idea right now."

Laughing, they walk off together, still staggering slightly but keeping each other upright.

**

Later, the families are in touch. A date is set, in two months' time. A private gym room is arranged for.

Karen Kwan and Sheila Steele will face each other in a series of contests and fights, with their daughters as seconds, to determine who the better woman - the stronger mother - is.

to be continued...

[lalutte65]

well done, heres hoping two months passes overnight

[M_H]

I hope there is another fight between these girls!!

[papillon]

Great story! Dramatic and original. Had to go back to page 5 to find this!