The Saga of Cindy Rella - Revision 1
By: KarmA
A muscular retelling of one of our favorite fairy tales.

			  Part the First
 (In which we meet our young heroine and her loving family, 
                  and learn of her plight)


	Once upon a time, not so very long ago, and not so very far 
away (unless you consider southern California another planet, as 
many people do), there lived a young girl named Cindy.  Cindy 
was, it could be said, in an unenviable position.

	She lived in a split-level house on an unremarkable street in 
an unremarkable suburb of the truly remarkable Los Angeles.  
Unfortunately for Cindy, she lived in this house with her 
stepmother and two stepsisters.  Cindy was the virtual slave and 
jack-of-all-trades for the others in the household.

	Cindy’s stepmother was named Eve Louise, but was 
generally called by her first name and middle initial - Eve L.  Her 
stepsisters were named Anna Stasia and Andrew (yes, she was a 
stepsister).

	Eve L., the stepmother, had married Cindy’s father when 
Cindy was only three years old.  Cindy’s mother had died at 
childbirth, and her father (about whom she knew very little) had 
been happy to marry a young widow, whose two daughters would 
make cheerful playmates for his own daughter.  Alas, the happy 
household envisioned by Cindy’s father was not to be as Eve L., 
the stepmother, was wicked and cruel to Cindy and her father.

	One day, when young Cindy was but 11 years old, she came 
home from school only to be told by her stepmother that her father 
had run off to New York to become a ‘wise guy’ in the Genovese 
crime family.  Cindy did wonder about this, since her father was 
neither Italian nor particularly wise, but, then, neither was Cindy.  
Cindy also did wonder about the new garden plot in their back 
yard, but trains of thought never stopped for long at the stations in 
her mind.

	Cindy was soon the factotum and go-fer for Eve L., the 
stepmother, and her stepsisters.  As could be expected from the 
example set by their mother, the two girls teased, picked on, 
abused, over-worked and otherwise (though redundantly) bothered 
our young heroine.
		
	Anna Stasia was a year older than Cindy was.  Her name was 
the result of her natural father’s conviction that he was actually the 
son of one of the daughters of Nicholas and Alexandra, the czar 
and czarina of Russia.  Eve L. often belittled her husband for his 
beliefs, pointing out that his mother’s name was Mildred, and that 
she had emigrated to the United States from Sweden, and that no 
Russian royalty had ever been born in Poughkeepsie.  Anna’s 
father was unbending in his beliefs, however, prevailing, for once, 
over Eve’s wishes when naming their first-born.

	While Anna Stasia’s name was certainly odd, Andrew’s 
name was the result of Eve L.’s husband’s wildest delusion.  He 
was convinced that Andrew was a boy, obvious physical evidence 
notwithstanding.  It was this delusion that finally led Eve L. to file 
for divorce, citing (obviously) irreconcilable differences.  Anna 
and Andrew’s father then changed his name to Alexei Romanov 
and went on his Quest for the ‘truth’, and had, at last report, met 
his unfortunate demise at the hands of a fellow prisoner (a 
Ukrainian) in a prison camp in deepest Siberia.

	Andrew, meanwhile, endured some relentless teasing about 
her name, but being a strong and fearless young maiden, soon 
resolved the issue.  She announce (inspired, no doubt, by her 
endless watchings of E.T.) that hereinafter she would be known as 
"Drew."  A report eventually trickled back home that Drew had 
made her wishes very evident at school.  Teased about her name 
for the nth time by a male classmate, she had snapped.  Reports 
said that the principal and two teachers had to pry her arm out 
from around the dazed lad’s head, while Drew kept repeating, "It’s 
Drew, silly!  I told you my name is Drew, silly!"

	"Drew, silly!" was what she was called from that day forward 
(though never to her face).

	At the time of our story, Cindy was a robust 16-year old.  
Anna Stasia was 17, and Drew, silly! was also 16.  Eve L., the 
stepmother, was a youthful 35.  Eve L. had become the main 
breadwinner of the family (although they ate little bread); making 
money by ‘entertaining’ men either at her home or at a nearby 
motel that offered hourly rates for their rooms.  To understand a 
little about this entertainment, dear reader, a little background is 
necessary.

	Eve L. was a dedicated, confirmed weightlifter and 
bodybuilder.  She eschewed the more acceptable route of success 
through weightlifting or bodybuilding contests (although she could 
have won many awards at either), but instead preferred the 
notoriety of one-on-one contest with men.  These despicable 
individuals enjoyed the company of big, strong women (other than 
their wives) and who enjoyed the feel of strong, muscular thighs 
squeezing their head until they....

	But I digress.

	Eve L., at 6’ tall and 190 pounds of solid muscle, boasting 
18" biceps, was a spectacular success, well-known in certain 
circles in southern California.  One client, Ed, after regaining his 
wits, declared that he had never in his life seen such Mass Muscle.  
He got a faraway look in his eye, and fled California, eventually 
starting a video production company in Massachusetts, later 
moving to Florida.  Another client, Bill, stayed in California, 
eventually making videos featuring his wife squeezing the living 
bejeebers out of him.  A shy photographer/videographer named 
Ray was so enamored of Eve L.’s muscles, that he turned his 
obsession (sorry - his hobby) into a million-dollar company.

	As the girls grew older, they, too, began working out 
regularly in their basement gym, and became virtual clones of their 
mother.  At the time of our story (yes, I know I’ve said that 
before!), Anna was a 5’11", 180 pound bundle of muscle, and 
Drew, while also 5’11", outweighed her older sister by five 
pounds.  All three women were very attractive, with strong features 
to augment their strong bodies.  All were brunettes, while poor 
Cindy was blonde.

	Alas, poor Cindy was also left out of all their games.  She, 
too, was tall, but a lack of workout time and a deficient diet had 
left her a relatively puny 150 pounds.  The closest she ever came to 
the weight machines was when she dusted and polished them once 
a week.  It should be said, though, that Cindy’s strict (though 
involuntary) work regimen included such things as rearranging 
furniture, pounding nails, lifting cement bags, and mowing the 
lawn.  These physical activities gave her a ‘natural’ workout, 
leaving her inordinately strong as well (also strong as hell), though 
she had no realization of that fact.


			Part the Second
(In which we learn of a contest and our heroine’s efforts to 
                   join in that contest)


	Our story starts (!) one evening with Eve L., Anna and Drew 
down in their basement gym, working out.  Eve L. was critically 
watching Anna do biceps curls, 60 pounds with each arm.  Anna’s 
impressive biceps bulged and relaxed with each repetition, Eve L. 
correcting and critiquing as was her wont.  Drew was busy doing 
leg presses, awesome thighs flexing as she strained against the 
machine.

	The door opened, and our young Cindy hesitantly entered.  
Her eyes were wide as she avidly watched her stepsister’s flexing 
muscles.

	"Well, what is it?!" Eve L., the stepmother, asked.

	"It’s the mail, stepmother," Cindy said, eyes downcast.  "I 
left the rest upstairs on the table as you request, but I thought you 
might like to see this letter.  I think..."

	Eve interrupted.  "Leave the thinking to us!  Give me that, 
and get back to your goddamn work!"

	Anna and Drew snickered, then turned their attention to their 
mother, who quickly slit open the oversized, cream-colored 
envelope and scanned its contents.  She let out a low whistle, and 
turned to her daughters.

	"It’s an invitation to a party at one of our neighbor’s.  Robert 
Prince is inviting all the girls in the county to his mansion to take 
part in a contest to determine who will star in his next movie!"

	"What contest is it, mother?"

	"What movie is it, mother?"

	"Can I see?"

	"When is it?"

	Eve held her hand up, and the chattering from her daughters 
ceased immediately.

	Eve thought for a minute as she reread the invitation.  She 
knew a little bit about Robert Prince.  He was relatively new to the 
area, having just purchased the nearby estate of an aging movie 
actress.  He was, she knew, the heir to the fortune accumulated by 
the manufacturer of Charmin bathroom tissue (toilet paper, to 
country folk), which of course led to his nickname of.. (Figure it 
out for yourself - I can’t spell everything out for you.)  He used his 
substantial yearly allowance in the oh-so-acceptable realm of move 
financing and producing.  There was much talk about the obvious 
similarities between his two businesses, given the current state of 
moviemaking.  His most recent film, "Reform School Girls Meet 
Billy the Kid", while not exactly a critical hit, was very popular 
with Eve L.’s ‘clients.’

	Eve looked over at her daughters and smiled.  As they 
dutifully smiled back, Eve continued.  "He is filming a sequel to 
that old Sly Stallone movie, ‘Over the Top’.  He is staging an arm-
wrestling contest for all the girls in the county who are under age 
20.  The winner will star in his new movie.  More details will 
follow."

	Anna smiled widely.  She raised her massive right arm and 
flexed.  She looked down with pride at her huge, bulging biceps.  
"That should be a piece of cake, huh, Momma?  No one can put 
ME down!"

	"Oh, yeah?"  Drew jumped up and flexed her own 
remarkably muscled arm.  "I betcha I could!"

	"No fucking way, little sister!" Anna sneered.

	"Fucking way, big sister!  Or, now that I’m bigger than you, 
should I say older sister!"

	"No way you’re bigger!"

	"Sez who?"

	"I do!!"

	"All right, you two," Eve L. said resignedly.  "Drop the 
Abbott and Costello routine.  You’ll both be able to enter."

	The two sisters were still glaring at each other when Cindy 
crept hesitantly into the room from the doorway where she had 
been quietly listening.  "What about me, stepmother?"

	Eve spun around, fixing Cindy with a piercing stare.  Cindy 
tried to meet her eyes, but dropped her gaze after a few seconds.  
Eve began to smile, and slowly walked up to Cindy.

	"You, Cindy?" she asked in a scathing voice.

	"Yes, stepmother," Cindy said eagerly.  "I’m very strong, and 
the invitation says all girls under 20, and I’m under 20 and I think 
I could..." She stopped, confusedly.

	Eve, Anna and Drew were all laughing uproariously.  Eve 
finally wiped the tears from her eyes and beckoned Cindy into the 
room.  "Here," she said, trying to keep from laughing.  "Show us 
how strong you are.  Anna, you go first."

	Grinning, the older sister knelt next to a weight bench and 
planted her elbow down, hand up invitingly.  Cindy looked at her 
uncomprehendingly for a second, then realized the implications.

	"Oh," she said, in a small, startled voice, and went over and 
knelt awkwardly across from her stepsister.  They gripped hands, 
and Anna, ever the fair maiden, immediately slammed Cindy’s 
hand down to the bench.

	"Oh," said Cindy, grimacing in pain.  "I wasn’t ready..."

	Anna pulled Cindy’s hand back up to the starting position 
and raised a sardonic eyebrow.  "Ready now? Go!"

	This time Anna’s surge met unexpected resistance.  She 
grunted in surprise, frowned, then poured more power into her 
arm.  Much more slowly this time, Cindy’s arm was forced down 
to the bench.

	Eve L. looked thoughtfully at Cindy, then motioned Drew 
over.  Anna disengaged her hand and stood up, with Dawn 
kneeling in her place.  Drew clasped Cindy’s hand and squeezed 
it, then winced as Cindy squeezed in return.  By now Cindy was 
realizing what to do, and when Drew’s arm leaped into motion, 
Cindy’s arm didn’t move.  Eventually, though, Drew’s superior 
strength forced Cindy’s arm slowly to defeat.

	Eve let out her breath as Drew and Anna celebrated, sneering 
down at their stepsister, who was rubbing her sore arm.

	"Well, Cindy, I guess that settles that question," Eve L. 
remarked in a withering tone.  "You will just have to miss this 
event."  Turning to her daughters, she continued, "Come on, girls, 
if either of you wants to win this contest, you have six weeks to 
pump up those muscles of yours.  Get to work!"

	Ignored by the others, Cindy disconsolately slipped out of the 
gym, then ran outside to the fence at the back of their property, 
where she fell to her knees and wept bitter tears.



		         Part the Third
(In which we meet the other characters and learn their stories)

	Meanwhile, back at the ranch - uh, the mansion - Robert 
Prince looked out through his office window at the gate and the 
fine trimmed lawn.  He thought with some comfort of how the 
phones were already beginning to ring with eager responses to his 
invitation.  Several months of work were finally coming to 
fruition.

	He had first thought of filming a remake of "Over the Top" 
that previous winter.  He was relaxing in his hot tub recovering 
from his latest visit to Desiderata, a local competitor of Eve L.’s, 
that had left him aching and sore and still somewhat dizzy from 
the final head scissors he had endured.  "God, that woman is 
strong," he had thought, sinking entirely under the surface.  "Even 
Arnold Schwarzenegger would have trouble with her.  It’s a good 
thing Sylvester Stallone didn’t run into her in ‘Rocky’ or ‘Over the 
Top’..."

	He had exploded out of the water like a breaching whale as 
he grabbed for the phone and set things in motion.

	Now, he reflected, everything was in place.  After extensive 
and protracted negotiations, and after having his script rejected by 
everyone from Keanu Reeves to Judd Nelson, he had signed 
Danny Bonaduce to star in ‘Over the Top II - A Partridge 
Reunion.’  Further negotiations with Florence Henderson had 
broken down when a nervous aide pointed out that they had the 
wrong mother.  Shirley Jones, Marion Ross, Barbara Billingsley, 
Jerry Van Dyke, Mary Tyler Moore and Bill Bixby had all 
emphatically declined interest.  Susan Dey, after being promised 
the deed to Robert Prince’s house (he sure hoped his lawyers could 
find a loophole in that contract), had finally agreed to a 30-second 
cameo, resolving yet another issue - the title.

	Various previous ideas for titles had floated and sunk.  There 
was "Somewhere Over the Top", a musical with the title song 
performed by Liza Minnelli or Lorna Luft.  Someone suggested 
"Over the Big Top", with the female star being a circus acrobat 
finally realizing her lifelong ambition to be an arm-wrestling 
champion.  Quickly shot down (after it floated?) was "Over the 
Top Again", which sounded too much like a sequel to a World 
War I saga starring Lew Ayres or Kirk Douglas.

	Finally, "Over the Top II - A Partridge Reunion" was to be a 
reality.  All that was missing was the female star.  This tournament 
was a stroke of genius, Prince reflected.  I’ll find both a star and 
(though she doesn’t know it yet) an arm-wrestling companion for 
himself.  Just the thought of it prompted a growing erection, and 
Prince turned away from the window, adjusting his ‘unit’ as he 
did.  His final thought as he walked rather uncomfortably out of 
the room was how he’d change his name to a symbol - V**V - 
indicating his passion, and be thereafter known as "The Movie 
Producer Previously Known As Robert Prince".

	
	Meanwhile, back in the backyard, all of Prince’s ruminations 
having taken place while Cindy knelt sobbing, a curious 
occurrence occurred.

	Twilight had settled over the yard.  As usual, Cindy was 
oblivious to her surroundings, but even she couldn’t miss the 
sudden bright flash of light emanating from the other side of the 
fence.

	"Shit! Goddamnit! Shit!"  She heard from the other side.  
"Goddamn camera!  I can’t see!  I can’t..." The tirade was 
interrupted as someone bumped into the fence.

	Cindy stood up and tentatively approached the fence.  "Is 
someone there?" she asked (bright girl, our Cindy).

	"Shit! Just a minute!  I’m still seeing stars." 

	Puzzled, Cindy looked up at the cloudy sky.

	"I’m sorry," came the voice again.  "It’s a new camera, and 
I’m sorta clumsy, y’know."

	Cindy raised up on tiptoe and took a peek over the fence.  
There she beheld a little man, barely 5’ tall, who was still rubbing 
his eyes.  In his hand he held a camera.  Cindy glanced back at the 
house, and saw, in an upstairs window, the unmistakable 
silhouette of two women embracing passionately.  Cindy looked at 
the man, then back at the window, puzzled.  Finally she shook her 
head and put two and two together.  She deftly scaled the fence 
and landed lightly next to the little man.  She gently shook one big 
fist under his nose.

	"You were spying on us, weren’t you, you little wimpy 
pervert!"

	"I can explain," the man yelped, and he did.


	Several hours, and several repetitions of the story later, 
Cindy looked down fondly at the little man.  "Okay, let me see if I 
have it straight now.  Your name is Giuseppi Garibaldi Calamari, 
and you’re Italian, right?  You grew up in New Yawk City, and 
were a member of one of the gangs there, right?  You had some 
trouble there, and moved to London, where you started and ran 
your bookmaking and auction operation, right?"

	"You’re doing great so far, kid!"

	"Your motto in London was ‘Bid a Quid with the Squid’, 
right? And you did really well, right?  Especially when you 
expanded into the Jewish section, where your motto was ‘Have a 
Jew Bid a Quid with the Squid’" She frowned, puzzled.  "Is that 
right?"

	Giuseppi sighed.  "You’re awfully damn close, kid, real 
close.  You lead a pretty sheltered life, don’tcha?"

	"Yes, I live in a house.  Anyway, you made a lot of money 
there and came back to New Yawk, where you killed everybody in 
your gang - what was it called again?"

	"The Mafia!!"

	"Oh, yeah - You killed all your Mafia friends and were 
named ‘capo de tuti capo’, right?  And Marlon Brando based his 
performance on you, the real Godfather, right?  He’s a lot taller 
than you, though."

	Giuseppi sighed again.

	"Then all your friends in the Mafia who you didn’t kill found 
out you were gay and had a shitload of boyfriends, right?  So they 
put out a contact out on you."

	"A Contract!"

	"Oh, yeah - Put a contract out on you so you live here in 
California all by yourself, right?"

	"Oh, honey, you ain’t never been so right in your life.  Now 
it’s my turn.  You’ve told me all about your troubles with Eve L., 
the stepmother, and with your stepsisters.  You told me all about 
the party and how you can’t go - Wait, don’t cry again!  I’m gonna 
help you become the best damn arm-wrestler in the world!  You’re 
gonna walk into that mansion with your head held high!"

	Cindy looked puzzled, which Giuseppi was realizing was a 
fairly common occurrence for her.  "But I won’t be able to see 
where I’m going..."

	"Never mind, kiddo, never mind!"



			Part the Fourth
(In which we learn of the preparations for this upcoming contest)


	The next six weeks, dear reader (if you’re still with me, hang 
in there), were a flurry and bustle of activity in all three of our 
households.

	Prince was finalizing movie plans, even though Carrie Fisher 
had returned his script unchanged, saying that there were some 
scripts that even SHE couldn’t doctor and could he please lose her 
address and telephone number, and could he please, please not 
name the heroine Leia!

	The ballroom at the mansion was being rebuilt, with several 
arm-wrestling tables installed.  Bidding was proceeding for the 
rights to tape the tourney, and to resell the videos.  82 women had 
accepted Prince’s kind invitation.

	At Cindy’s house, the stepsisters continued their quest to 
muscle up, each pushing the other to greater and greater strength.  
Eve L. worked with them.  Myriad arm-wrestling matches were 
held at the dining room table.  Anna might win three matches in a 
row, inspiring Drew to redouble her efforts, then she would win 
three in a row, and Anna would work harder.  And so on.

	One night, both Drew and Anna felt particularly good, and 
locked into a spectacular match that lasted almost five minutes.  
Fort the first two minutes, neither moved an iota off center, with 
only their bulging, rippling arms showing the intense effort being 
put forth (figured I better put some action in pretty soon).  They 
then alternated advantages until Drew finally gained the upper 
hand and pinned an exhausted Anna.

	Occasionally Eve L. would join in.  She won the vast 
majority of her matches with both sisters, and Anna suspected that 
she had let them win the few times they pinned her.

	Cindy had been working under Giuseppi’s tutelage.  Every 
night she would sneak out of the house and over the fence.  There, 
in his backyard, she would work with free weights until exhausted.  
Giuseppi made meals for her, enhancing her diet to maximize her 
performance.  He was continually astounded by her raw strength, 
and he worked with her on channeling and focusing it.  At the end 
of the six weeks, she was awesomely muscular and astonishingly 
strong.  Giuseppi massaged her almost 20" biceps, feeling a pang 
of regret at the direction his sexuality had taken him.



			Part the Fifth
(In which the long awaited [damn right!, you say] contest takes place)


	Finally (finally!!) the big night arrived.

	At Prince’s, the ballroom was prepared, the tables ready.

	At the stepmother’s house, the girls dressed under the 
supervision of their mother.  Anna wore a short, short red skirt, 
with long fishnet hose, and a matching red halter-top that fit so 
tight her nipples threatened to poke through the fabric.  Drew was 
dressed identically, though her skirt and halter were virginal white.

	Grumpily, the two girls slipped into the high heels stipulated 
in the contest rules.  Eve L. drove them to Prince’s estate, and 
watched them hobble inside.

	After Eve L returned home, Cindy, eyes downcast and 
manner meek and mild, informed Eve that she would be painting 
some furniture in the tool shed, and was dismissed with a curt nod.  
Cindy flew across the backyard and over the fence, where 
Giuseppi was waiting.  Cindy pulled on her skin-tight black 
leather pants and black vest.  Cleavage was the word.  "Be careful 
with these," Giuseppi informed her as he handed her a pair of 
black high heels.  "Size 12 is pretty hard to find."  The final piece 
was a red mask that Cindy would wear to disguise her identity.

	Giuseppi rode with Cindy to Prince’s in the back of the 
bright orange taxi her had hired for the evening.  They pulled up to 
the mansion, and Cindy opened the door.  

	Giuseppi stopped her.

	"I gotta tell you a few things, sweetheart.  First of all, I’ve 
still got a few connections with my old gang - I mean, the Mafia.  
I’ve heard that a few of those guys are planning to send Robert 
Prince to sleep with the fishes."

	Cindy looked puzzled.  Giuseppi sighed.

	"They’re gonna kill him, honey, okay?  He embezzled money 
from some of them, and they don’t go for that.  They put a contact 
- I mean, a contract - out on him.  I’ve heard that the killers will 
arrive at midnight, so you gotta be outa the house by then, or you 
might get hurt.  I don’t want anything to happen to youse."

	"Gee, Joe, Thanks!"

	"Hey, kiddo, if I didn’t like guys so much I’d love you!"

	"Joe, you are the greatest friend I’ve ever had.  I was thinking 
- even though it gave me a headache - about you.  Since you’re a 
homosexual Mafia leader, I guess that makes you my..."

	"Don’t even say it!" Joe interrupted.  "Men have died for 
that!  But there is one last thing that I didn’t want to tell you 
before.  I knew your father in New York.  He finally did get to be a 
‘wise guy’ in our family.  He was also a ‘wise guy’ to me, if you 
catch my drift."

	"Um.."

	"Never mind.  Youse got real good genes, honey!  Your Dad, 
Rocco Rella, was the strongest guy I ever met.  He had a grip like 
a vise.  Once he grabbed hold of something or somebody, they 
didn’t get away.  ‘Gripper’ Rella, we called him.  So, honey, now 
you know it all.  Get in there, Cindy Rella, rip their arms off and 
win one for the Gripper!!"

	Cindy ran up the walk, tears in her eyes.  At the door she 
stopped.  Then, shoulders back, chest out, and head held high, she 
opened the door and walked in.

	Inside, Robert Prince was just approaching the microphone, 
when the door opened and he was suddenly no longer the center of 
attention.  All eyes were fixed on the apparition in black leather 
that entered (after tripping on the doorjamb), all 6’ and 190 
pounds of solid muscle, arms looking huge, even in repose.  Her 
breasts strained to break free from the vest; her long, long legs 
were encased in tight leather.  Her face was mysteriously obscured 
behind a red mask.

	Nudged from behind by one of his aides, Prince stopped 
staring, tried to remember just what it was he was going to say, 
and then simply proclaimed the festivities open.

	The ballroom became a blur of activity.  You, dear reader, 
would not know where first to look.  The room was full of fit, sexy 
tanned women, all eager to make their presence known to the 
Prince.  All had dressed to impress - or underdressed to impress 
even more.  There was a plethora of pectorals, a bevy of biceps, a 
deluge of deltoids, an abundance of abs, a coterie of calves, a 
quantity of quads and a thicket of thighs.  Oh, and many tandems 
of tits.  Muscles bulged, twitched, rippled, swelled, grew, 
quivered, flexed, strained, and got big.  Hands clasped, knees 
bumped, sweat ran, kisses were thrown, gazes locked, toes tapped, 
and wrists bent and were bent.

	The room was full of the sounds of hotly contested battle.  
Grunts, groans, moans, yells, screams, gasps, hisses, accusations, 
denials, whispers, shouts, and the occasional silence as all watched 
a particularly close and well-fought battle.

	Big muscles were overcome by skinny arms (though not 
often).  Big muscles were overcome by bigger muscles (quite 
often).  Tempers flared, eyes glared, bosoms bared and no one 
cared.  It was an event to bring tears of joy to the eyes of the type 
of men who enjoy that sort of thing.  Everywhere one looked, there 
were exhibitions of strength, power and desire.  Competitive juices 
(as well as a few other kinds) flowed as all and sundry gave their 
all to be the chosen one.

	There were arm-wrestling matches going on at any moment 
at each of the four tables.  The preliminary event was a round-
robin tourney designed to produce the fittest contestants.  Each girl 
had matches with six other contestants, with the best records 
gaining the finals.

	Cindy was nervous in her first match, against a green-haired 
18-year old with a diamond stud nose ring, who asked Cindy 
where she bought the mask.  Two seconds of straining muscles 
were followed by a resounding thud as the girl’s hand hit the table, 
and a gasp of pain escaped her lips.  None of Cindy’s opponents 
seemed especially eager to take on this masked Wonder Woman, 
and she had a relatively easy time through her six contests.

	All eyes were on table #1 when Juno, a 6’3" black model was 
matched up with Mary Lou, a 4’11" spitfire gymnast.  It was 
nearly impossible to align the long black arm with the short 
(though more muscular) white one.  The match lasted nearly as 
long as the preparation before a swearing and sweating Juno 
finally forced down the arm of the smaller girl.

	Others watched in amazement as twin sisters locked up in a 
five-minute battle during which neither arm moved one tiniest bit 
from dead center.  This match was eventually and reluctantly 
called a draw, over the strenuous protests of both contestants.  The 
two girls were found later that night seated at a table in Prince’s 
library, both fainted dead away, but with their arms still clasped 
together - and dead center.

	As the evening wore on and the arms wore down, it became 
apparent who the finalists would be.  The masked goddess in black 
was a crowd favorite.  Anna and Drew both snarled and growled 
their way through their matches, thankful they didn’t have to face 
each other or the masked marvel.  A cheerful 13-year old named 
Annie used her immense 30" biceps to rip a swath through her 
competitors, only breaking one arm (not hers) in the process.

	Prince motioned the four finalists up to the front of the room 
to draw lots to see who faced whom in the semi-finals.  The draw 
was announced - Annie vs. Anna and Drew vs. The Masked 
Marvel.

	Annie and Anna approached the table, and at the ref’s 
directions, gripped hands.  It had become obvious that young 
Annie was an incredibly powerful girl.  Her 30+" biceps were 
hard, but her arms were shorter than the other girls’, so she had a 
slight leverage disadvantage.  She had overcome that problem by 
sheer strength, but it could be different now against Anna, who 
may match her strength but has much longer arms.

	Anna had used her psyche-out technique before each match.  
As the competitors approached the table, she would stare intensely 
at he opponent.  Some tried to meet her gaze, but unable (or 
unwilling) to outstare her, would look elsewhere, oftentimes with 
their concentration or determination broken.

	She did the same with Annie.  Annie stared back for several 
seconds, then crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.  The 
room broke out in laughter as the ref checked the girls’ grips, and 
signaled them to begin.

	Both sets of biceps leapt into huge definition.  This was a 
match of pure power, as neither had met any previous opponent 
who could match them strength for strength.  Neither girl paid any 
attention to strategy or technique - they just relied on pure muscle.  
For thirty seconds their arms never moved.  The two seemed 
perfectly matched in power.  Anna’s breathing was still steady, but 
Annie’s was growing labored as her youth and the effects of the 
six previous matches took their toll on her stamina.  It was also 
apparent that Annie’s shorter arm couldn’t gain the needed 
leverage.  She refused to go easily into that good night, though, 
and made it difficult for Anna.  Millimeter by millimeter, Annie’s 
arm began to go down.  Muscles in her awesomely bulging arm 
began to twitch as they shut down.  Anna, sensing victory as the 
clock passed the minute mark, began to sneer as she poured on 
even more power.  Annie, gasping for breath, face red from 
exertion, tried to hold off the inevitable, but was finally pinned at 
the 1:47 mark.

	Annie collapsed, unable to believe she had been 
overpowered, and was helped away by a wiry gymnast.  Anna, 
jubilant at her victory, flexed in an awe-inspiring double biceps 
before she bounded down, high-fiving her sister on the way.

	Cindy adjusted her mask as she walked to the table to meet 
Drew.  She had observed a few of Drew’s preliminary round 
matches and saw that Drew had a psyche-out trick of her own.  
Drew had extraordinarily big hands, and as the girls approached, 
she would playfully hold her hand up, palm out, inviting the other 
girl to compare hand size.  Drew’s were invariably bigger, and her 
opponent was momentarily intimidated.  Drew would then smile at 
her pityingly, and offer to shake hands.  As they shook, Drew 
would squeeze her hands, displaying her power, seeking to further 
demoralize her.

	Cindy knew that her own hands were very big.  She took the 
initiative, and invited Drew to compare before Drew could.  Drew 
hesitated, seeing the massive hand before her, then placed her 
hand palm-to-palm with Cindy’s.  Drew was shocked to realize 
that this masked unknown had hands that not only matched hers in 
size, but also may actually be slightly larger.  Before Drew could 
recover from her surprise, Cindy smiled and extended her hand.  
Drew again hesitated, but finally clasped hands.  Forearms tensed 
as they squeezed.  Cindy kept a smile on her face, resisting Drew’s 
crushing grip.  After several seconds of bonecrushing struggle, 
they mutually released their clasp and proceeded to the main 
contest.

	Bare arms displaying a combined 40" of rock-solid biceps, 
the two fought for nearly a minute in stalemate.  Cindy felt her 
confidence slip for a minute, but then remembered Drew’s earlier 
technique.  When in her earlier matches Drew had been unable to 
immediately overpower her opponent, she had resorted to short 
bursts of power to jerk the other girls’ arm down in small 
increments.  Then, with her opponent halfway down, she would 
take a deep breath and focus all her strength into a mighty surge, 
slamming her opponent’s hand down.

	Cindy consciously relaxed her continuous pressure.  Drew, 
interpreting this as a sign of weakness or exhaustion, began her 
routine of power surges.  To the delight of Anna, and a few others 
in the crowd, the arm of the masked mystery woman began going 
down.  Cindy watched Drew intently, waiting for the deep breath 
that presaged an all-out effort.

	It came.  Cindy, with impeccable timing, threw all her power 
into a colossal effort during that infinitesimal pause when Drew 
gathered her power.  In a half second, Cindy went from being 
halfway down to having Drew on the brink of defeat.  Drew, 
though stunned at this reversal of fortune, proved her mettle as she 
held her ground.  For several more seconds, their arms quivered in 
battle as Drew resisted, hoping to turn the tables yet again.  Cindy 
never let up the pressure, though, and Drew’s arm went suddenly 
limp as Cindy pinned her.

	Prince, beside himself with excitement, and barely able to 
walk due to his huge erection, managed to calm the madding 
crowd long enough to announce a half-hour break before the final 
match of the night, the long-awaited matchup between Anna and 
Miss Mysterioso.

	Cindy looked nervously at the clock, which now read 11:20.  
She would have to work fast if she hoped to be out of the room by 
midnight.  She sat patiently, as if unconcerned, while another girl 
vigorously massaged her arm (probably hoping she’d get a chance 
to massage something else later), while others whispered words of 
advice and encouragement in her ear.  This was a heady situation 
for our young heroine, who had never before been the target of 
such adulation, acclamation and adoration, and her confidence and 
self-esteem were duly increased.

	Five minutes before the scheduled start time, a hush fell over 
the waiting crowd as Anna walked to the table.  She looked at 
Cindy, fixing her with a riveting stare.  Cindy met Anna’s gaze 
calmly, then walked over to face her over the table.  The staring 
contest continued for the next few minutes until the ref hesitantly 
told them it was time to start.

	Then Anna, still trying to stare down Cindy, reached behind 
her back, unhooked her halter top and dropped it distastefully off 
to one side, displaying her perfectly tanned, perfectly formed tits.

	"Let’s do this one topless, shall we?" she sneered at Cindy.

	Cindy never hesitated.  She slowly unbuttoned her vest, eyes 
locked on Anna, and shrugged it off.  Her own beautifully formed 
tits sprang loose, nipples jutting forward, freed at last, oh, Lord, 
freed at last form their confinement.

	Eyes still locked on each other’s, the two big women clasped 
hands.  At the ref’s signal both girls dropped their gaze, pouring 
all their considerable strength into massive surges of power.

	Neither arm moved.  Biceps bulged, arms quivered as 
irresistible force met immovable object (and vice versa).  This was 
no hinky-dinky match where stratagem met counter-stratagem and 
grips were adjusted to meet changing circumstances.  This was 
one-on-one, pure power arm-wrestling of the "My arm is stronger 
than your arm." variety.  The crowd was initially stunned into an 
awed (or odd) silence before erupting into cheers and yells of 
encouragement to the straining contestants.

	Both girls were straining to their utmost, no thought given to 
reserves of strength.  Biceps swelled to truly epic proportions, 
muscles threatening to burst through the skin.  First baseball-sized, 
then softball-sized, then grapefruit-sized muscles bulged (bowling 
ball-sized, while certainly titillating, is hardly realistic).  For many 
excruciating seconds - first 30, then a full minute - muscle vied 
against muscle in a struggle for supremacy.

	The fact that both contestants were topless added to the 
distractions.  Both were so well endowed that their breasts actually 
rested on the tables, nipples having a spectacular view of the 
titanic struggle.  Cindy found herself staring at Anna’s tits, 
marveling at how large and erect her nipples were.  They were as 
big around as her little finger, and were at least an inch long.  
Cindy wanted to reach out one finger and flick one of them.

	The crowd roared as Anna managed to gain the first 
advantage, helped in no small measure by Cindy’s momentary 
distraction.  Anna’s teeth were clenched tight.  The tendons in 
Cindy’s neck were stretched as taut as - well, as bowstrings.  
Both girls were breathing in agonized gasps.  Their clasped 
massive hands quivered, fingernails turning blue from the 
decreased blood flow from the vise-like grips that would’ve broken 
bones in a less-conditioned woman’s hand.

	Anna in her turn also noticed the magnificent golden orbs in 
her line of sight (Jeez, I don’t know how they got to be golden! 
Maybe she mowed the lawn topless).  Anna wondered if they were 
as firm as they looked.  She also wondered how it would feel to 
press her own heaving bosom against her opponent’s to see whose 
would give way first, or to have a friendly game of dueling 
nipples, like she and Drew...

	The crowd roared again as Cindy forced Anna’s arm back up 
to dead even.  They had been battling for almost two minutes, with 
only miniscule changes.  Neither was willing to concede a 
millimeter to the other’s superiority.  Then, slowly and with much 
grunting and straining, the masked girl began to force Anna’s arm 
down.  Inexorably it continued its descent.  Anna couldn’t believe 
it, and let out a piercing scream and unleashed an all-out, do-or-
die, make-or-break, last-ditch effort.  Their arms quivered - and 
quivered - and quivered - but Cindy did not lose much ground.  
Anna’s scream tailed off and her arm almost deflated at the same 
time.  Unable to resist any longer, and after an agonizing 3 
minutes and 18 seconds, Anna’s hand touched the table.  

	The room rang with tremendous shouts.  Cindy was the 
victor!

	Cindy and Anna barely had the energy to unclasp their 
benumbed hands.  Anna stared at the masked stranger with a 
mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect.

	"Just... who.. the fuck.. are you?" she gasped.

	Cindy was about to reply when she spied the clock.  Oh, 
Fuck! Midnight!  Shaking off the congratulating hugs and 
outstretched hands, she struggled to the door.  She opened it, then 
turned to look back into the room.  She had a glimpse of Robert 
Prince leaning against a table, a giant wet spot staining the crotch 
of his pants, when all heck broke loose!!

	Four men, all wearing fedoras and trench coats broke into the 
room through the shattering windows, spraying the women with 
glass and bullets from the Uzi each was carrying.

	Cindy ran down the steps, but slipped on the last one.  One 
of her high heels came off and was left on the steps.  She turned 
back to get it, but the sight of one of the gunmen in the doorway 
convinced her that discretion was the better part of valor.  Looking 
around for her carriage - uh, I mean, taxi - and not seeing it, and 
deciding further that she who arm-wrestles and runs away will live 
to arm-wrestle another day, she ran away.


			Part the Sixth
 (In which we learn of the search for the woman with the size 
                 12 shoe and the aftermath)


	The next morning, calm prevailed.

	Robert Prince sat in his hospital bed, squinting with his one 
good eye at the high-heeled show her held in one hand.  "Find 
her!" he instructed his aides.  "Go to every fucking house in the 
county and find the girl whose foot can fill this shoe.  There can’t 
be that many women with muscles like that who wear a goddamn 
size 12!"

	As they scurried out he leaned back in his bed, one hand 
rubbing the bandage over his eye, while they other hung 
suspended in a cast next to his bed.  He sighed.  It could have been 
much worse, he mused.  Only one casualty reported - an 18-year 
old who had fallen in love with Annie, and who had thrown herself 
in front of a burst of bullets intended for the 13-year old.  That was 
the only episode of accurate fire reported about the latest version 
of the gang who couldn’t shoot straight.

	The four gunmen, after exhausting their ammunition in 
wildly inaccurate bursts, had been rapidly and efficiently disarmed 
by the 80 remaining enraged girls, and just as rapidly and 
efficiently dismantled as they were passed from girl to girl.  As one 
of the girls said, "Typical men!  Shoot their entire wad during the 
first 30 seconds, then wonder why we’re so pissed!"

	Three of the men were given a very close look at the insides 
of various thunderous thighs or had their heads encircled by 
massive arms.  All three were currently in critical condition at area 
hospitals, as doctors tried to determine the cause of their 
contusions, bruises, broken limbs and ruptured organs (internal 
and otherwise).

	The fourth man, who had killed Annie’s new amour, had last 
been seen while a young, tear-stained and enraged Annie was 
dragging him down the steps by the hair.  Prince’s injuries had 
occurred when he tried to interfere.  The man was dragged past the 
now sated women, who dispassionately ignored his desperate pleas 
for mercy and leniency.  It was, they said, a most fitting 
punishment.

	But where was the one-shoed masked marvel, Miss 
Mysterioso, the unknown Lady X?

	At home in her bedroom, fast asleep.  When she awoke, dear 
reader, you will be happy to know that her recuperative powers 
matched her physical powers.  Oblivious (surprise, surprise) to the 
furor surrounding her identity and the search for her, she 
proceeded with her daily routine, only slightly sore from her 
exertions of the previous night.

	The next few days were black (and blue) ones indeed in the 
house of Eve L., the stepmother.  She was utterly disgusted and 
disappointed that both of her daughters had been defeated by this 
strange unknown, and made her feelings very apparent.  She took 
out most of her anger in a series of even more strenuous workouts, 
leaving her daughters awed into uncharacteristic silence.

	The girls occasionally found their thought fading off into 
erotic reveries.  Drew remembered the unknown arm-wrestler’s big 
hands and the feel of that hand pressed against hers.  She 
wondered what would happen if they were to interlock fingers and 
engage in a "Mercy" test of strength, trying to force the other to 
her knees...

	Anna, in her turn, remembered the masked woman’s 
generous chest.  She surreptitiously felt her own firm tits and 
wondered whose were bigger.  She imagined her and her rival 
standing face-to-face, nipples barely brushing as they flexed their 
magnificent pectorals, seeing whose nipple-to-nipple span was 
greater...

	Finally (and mercifully) came a knock at the door.

	It was Duke, Prince’s right-hand man, making his tour of the 
county, having all the women try on that lonely high heel.  Many 
girls had tried it on, but while one had the length and one had the 
width, none had been able to fill the masked woman’s shoe.

	The room was tense as first Anna, and then Drew, tried it on.  
Close, but no cigar.  Duke’s shoulders slumped, as this was the 
last house, and his last chance.  Robert Prince would have him by 
the balls if he reported failure.

	Just then (luckily for us), Cindy came into the room and 
spotted the shoe held by the despairing man.  "Oh," she exclaimed 
in surprise.  "My shoe!  Thank you ever so much for returning it."

	There was a stunned silence as all eyes turned to our young 
heroine.  Eve L., Anna Stasia and Drew, silly! were speechless as 
Cindy walked over to a chair, sat down and slipped on the high-
heeled shoe.

	"It fits!" whispered Duke.  "It fits! It fits!"

	"You!?" stammered Drew.  "You were the girl in the red 
mask the other night?"

	"Sure," said Cindy, admiring the shoe that had been lost but 
that now was found.  "Say, I hope your arm is feeling okay.  You, 
too, Anna," she continued, turning to her older stepsister.  "You 
really are strong!"

	Duke put his arm around Cindy and started leading her to the 
door when Eve L., her mind still whirling from the implications of 
what she had just witnessed, finally found her voice.

	"Stop!" she said imperiously.  "She’s lying!  She couldn’t 
have been the victor the other night because...  because..." She 
hesitated, and then continued.  "Because I was!"

	"You, mother?" her daughters cried in unison, as Cindy and 
Duke gaped at her.

	"Of course.  Who else could defeat both of you?"  Eve 
replied, thinking quickly.  "I wanted to prove to everyone that a 
thirtysomething woman could outdo you youngsters."

	"Yes! Yes, it must be!"  Anna exclaimed enthusiastically.

	Cindy was puzzled.  Our heroine, however, was growing up 
quickly, and this time she had a thought of her own.  Telling the 
others to wait a moment, she ran up to her room and quickly 
returned with the black leather pants and vest (Yes, I know - after 
the final topless match with Anna, and before running away, she 
picked up her vest and put it back on) and, as she triumphantly 
held it up, the other shoe!

	"Here, Eve," she happily exclaimed, not even realizing that 
that was the first time she had ever called her stepmother anything 
but ‘stepmother.’  "How do you explain the fact that I have these 
clothes?"

	Eve L. had not missed the mode of address used by Cindy 
either.  "It’s obvious," she sneered.  "You are a thief as well as a 
liar.  You stole them out of my closet when you cleaned my room 
yesterday."

	Cindy was, again, puzzled, as well as kind of pissed off.  
Duke was as well (puzzled, that is), but he thought he saw a 
solution.  He cleared his throat.  "Well, madam, we still have the 
shoe.  Would you be so kind as to try it on?"

	Eve L. walked haughtily to the chair.  Duke’s hands shook as 
he slipped it on her foot and realized, to his consternation, that it 
fit Eve L. just as well as it had fit Cindy.  He sat back in 
confusion, looking back and forth from Eve’s foot to Cindy’s foot.  
He finally got the two of them to sit in chairs opposite each other.  
He placed their feet up on a small table he conveniently found 
nearby, and positioned them together, sole-to-sole.  Being a little 
bit of a foot fetishist, he spent an inordinate amount of time 
examining the situation, trying to determine whose foot was 
bigger.

	Cindy kind of enjoyed the feel of Eve’s foot against hers, and 
she rather playfully pressed against it, kind of like pressing on a 
car’s accelerator.  Eve pushed back until the two of them were 
engaged in a type of foot-wrestling contest.  Cindy felt her nipples 
swelling, and was no longer quite as puzzled.

Duke finally threw his hands up in dismay.  "It is as if you had 
your foot up against a mirror!", he groaned. "There is no 
difference!  How can I tell..."

	Suddenly his eyes brightened and he smacked his forehead 
with his hand. "Of course!  I am an idiot!  Muscles!  Our mystery 
woman had muscles!  Disrobe, both of you!"

	Cindy reluctantly moved her foot away from Eve L.’s.  No 
one else in the room had even been aware of their little test of 
strength, since the only indication had been a certain flexing of 
thigh and calf muscles, indiscernible to the observers since their 
legs were covered, Cindy’s with sweat pants and Eve’s with jeans.

	Eve stood up and with no hesitation slipped out of her jeans 
and unbuttoned and removed her shirt.  Duke gasped at the 
massively muscular form now standing before him in bra and 
panties.  Eve chuckled at Duke’s obvious and natural response and 
did several poses, finally flexing a huge bicep almost under his 
nose.

	Duke stammered and stuttered, finally saying, "You are... 
You must be...  My, God, what muscles... You have to be the 
one!"

	"Not so fast!" came a voice, and he turned his head to see 
another equally hard, equally massive flexed arm.  Mouth open, he 
turned further to see Cindy, who, having removed her sweatshirt 
and sweat pants, now flexed before his (overstimulated) eyes.

	Drew, Anna and Duke watched in awe as Cindy and Eve hit 
pose after bodybuilding pose, trying to one-up and outflex the 
other.  Duke admired their heavily muscled broad backs that 
tapered down to narrow waists, their huge, hard quads and 
diamond-shaped calves.  But most of all, he gawked at their arms 
- biceps and triceps that were as big and hard as any he had ever 
seen before.  Duke shook his head.  Finally her held up one hand 
and stopped the impromptu posedown.

	"There must be one final test.  You both had the means, 
motive and opportunity to attend the contest.  You both fit the 
physical criteria for our Lady X, that is, you both can wear the 
shoe, and you are both somewhat - okay, incredibly - muscular.  
Since you both claim to be our champion arm-wrestler, there is 
only one way to settle this."

	For once, Cindy knew exactly what someone meant.  
Without pausing, she turned and walked into the dining room and 
sat down at the table.  Eve immediately sat across from her.  
Elbows were planted on the table and hands were joined.

	This match started somewhat differently.  Each woman 
gradually and somewhat tentatively increased the pressure, as if 
testing the other.  Eve locked her eyes on Cindy, and our heroine 
returned the stare over their clenched hands.  Slowly the pressure 
increased until both women were at their peak performance.

	Cindy found herself staring down at Eve’s incredibly hard 
and big biceps.  For the first time she wondered whether she could 
actually match Eve muscle for muscle.  Her hand felt numb, Eve’s 
strong clasp almost cutting off the circulation.  The arms 
continued, straight up and down.  The air around their hands 
seemed charged with electricity generated by the incredible forces 
being applied.

	Cindy felt her arm being forced back!  Was it possible that 
Eve was stronger after all?  "No!" Cindy thought.  "Fuck this!"  
Calling on every ounce of strength in every fiber of her body, 
Cindy strained as never before.  Eve watched in disbelief as her 
trembling arm was pulled back to even, then forced closer and 
closer to the table.

	Somehow Eve found enough energy to stop Cindy, but was 
unable to recover any of the lost ground.  For another minute that 
seemed like an hour to the exhausted women, their arms remained 
locked as Cindy tried to find enough to put Eve down.  With a low 
moan that chilled the rapt onlookers, Cindy ever so slowly and 
ever so gently touched Eve’s hand to the table.

	Finally, our heroine’s victory was complete.  She 
looked at her stunned stepsisters and her broken, whimpering 
stepmother.  She thought of her poor mother and her poor 
misguided father.  She thought kindly of Giuseppi Garibaldi 
Calamari, her "Fairy Godfather," and, remembering his advice, 
turned and walked out the door and into her new life, head held 
high.

	She didn’t trip.








And they all lived happily ever after? 

The following scenarios are under consideration for a 
possible Part II.  If Part I is quite enough, thank you very much, 
then I will quietly slink back into my cave.

Option A - Cindy mover in with Prince Charmin, only to 
find that he has another woman in mind for his movie.  S. Noelle 
White is every bit as big and every bit as strong as our heroine is.

Number 2 - Cindy is fired by Prince Charmin and moved in 
with Giuseppi, where she discovers her cruel streak and 
sadistically abuses and tortures the wimpy little bastard.

Choice C - Cindy discovers religion and enters a convent, 
where the mean are scarce or chaste, but the Mother Superior is a 
closet bodybuilder (who can tell under those robes and wimples?).

Part 4 - Cindy rejects Prince, "discovers" that she is a 
lesbian, forgives her stepmother and stepsisters and moves back 
home, where the four of them have steamy, muscular lesbian sex 
and arm-wrestle every night to see who does dishes.




Thank you for your support -

KArmA