Miren meets boxer Isa by Ric Miren's strength is tested by female pugilist Isa Money could not change Miren but it did change the people around her. After beating Al life outdoors before a cheerful mass, her name spread among the most important aw managers of the continent seeking for young blood to put some muscle in the sport- show. Her mum tried to cope with that at the very beginning and the idea of managing her powerchild pleased her, but soon it was clear that the young girl had her own ideas. One fine day a cute sport car parked notoriously careless at the tavern threshold. A blonde-stained heavy girl, wearing suede skirt and stilettos, came in and asked for Miren. She claimed to represent a well known sponsor of the aw pro circuit. She discussed with Miren's mum and they decided to clear off their differences in a Snap drink challenge. Snap was a highly alcoholic home made liquor which Miren's mum drunk like water. She used to over-drink visitors but got bored having no match. Isa had some trouble to get down her stool after leaving the bigger woman knocked down on the floor before Miren's astonished eyes. Following the instructions from the stranger, Miren left the countryside and moved into town. Isa had booked for her a suite in a luxury hotel. When she arrived to the hotel, large adverts and flags announced a boxing match at the hotel's arena that evening. In the classic boxer stance, there was a standard weight male boxer with a Mexican name, broken noise and ugly face, pitted against a meaty girl in her twenties of athletic complexion and large muscles hidden underneath a moderate fat layer. From the smile she recognized Isa. The suite was about three times her mum's tavern. Only the bed itself seemed to be close. Spreading her limbs she could not touch any of its four edges. In a separate room there was a fridge filled up with snacks and beverages. She helped herself. Then she had a 10 min. shower, put on a lace top and jeans and descended the stairs to the arena. Very smart people coming from sport cars and limousines flowed into the boxing center. She followed the current, but the bouncer stopped her, pushing her aside to clear the entrance for the smart visitors. Ehh, my name is Miren; Isa, the boxer invited me to come. To her surprise, the gorilla ridiculously bowed and gave her way in. 'Excuse me M'dam, first row number 16', he said reverentialy. The benches were packed with public. As she crossed through them to get her sit many unusual odors stimulated her sense of smell, expensive perfumes, Chinese food, vison fur, air conditioner... She found her place among a cute young man and an elder lady who carried a dog. He had dark hair shaved in his thick neck, a golden ear ring, almost oriental eyes perhaps with make-up, a pirate style immaculate white blouse unfastened revealing a hugely muscled hairless chest and hyper-tight black trousers expanded by his thighs and buttocks. He had one leg crossed on the huge thigh of the girl in miniskirt next to him, an ever smiling power built brunette with a pretty face covered under an spectacularly voluminous brown long hair. They shameless kissed, caressed and playfully hit each other, laughing loud and pushing their neighbors. Miren received an elbow in the ribs from him. He turned his appealing stare to her to apologize. Their glances tangled up, till the big pretty girl required his attention pulling his nose with a two-fingered squeeze. In the ring two youngsters were kicking the shit out of each other with doubtful style but unarguable courage. Eventually one of them felt flat and was counted out. As soon as the stretchers took the beaten boy out, the lights turned off and a floodlight received the Mexican boxer, escorted by half a dozen sidemen in uniform outfit. He jumped on the fourth rope into the ring and flashed some lightning fast jaws to the cheering public. Then Isa came in, wearing a black silk hooded gown, followed just by two ugly big guys from the promoter crew. She pulled apart the third and fourth ropes so hard that she swept in between without almost bending over. Once in the ring, she let the dressing gown slip to the floor and lifted her arms to receive the acclamation. She wore red gloves and the sexiest outfit consisting of crossed leather strips so tight that they dig into her hard body, tracing deep interlacing paths along her back, chest and belly, just wide enough to cover her nipples and crotch, but completely revealing her horse-size buttocks. Her torso was abundantly muscled, but with enough fat to lack definition. Her legs were much thicker than normal boxer legs. She had a black belt constricting her impressive left thigh and a leather lace encircling her right arm separating the biceps from the shoulder. Early in first round the Mexican circled her probing with fast jaws. He looked much more mobile and technical. His blows still didn't pass through her solid guard, and those aimed to her body dyed like punching a truck tyre. She launched some massive jaws that the Mexican skillfully ducked, marking her stone chin taking advantage of her apertures. As bored of the dance, Isa started to hit harder and harder his arms, till one of her blows forced its way through his guard and stumped on his nose. Noise of shattering bones and blood shower. Seeing him stunned, she sent a demolishing roundhouse that hammered his head screwing his face leftwards, and sent him staggering to the ropes. His style was gone and he made his best to protect at the maximum his head. She enclosed him there and fired a combination to his plexus and stomach. He yelled like a rat clinching her with trembling legs. She heaved him away, letting him fall on his knees. The ref counted to 7 and he bravely got on his feet. Isa charged, hammering his sides and finishing with a hook that fling his head to the arena's ceiling. Miren looked upwards, but the Mexican head was still miraculously glued to his neck. He had again clinched like an octopus to Isa. The bell sounded. Isa stood in the center of the ring as usual, rolling her arms and stretching, for her Herculean physical needed no rest. Miren understood then why she hadn't parade with any coach. The Mexican sidemen worked hard in the restoration, and managed to throw to the ring a reasonable fighter for the second round. Isa approached him hands down. The Mexican retreated. He threw a hard blow to her belly and a roundhouse that shook her head. She hesitated. The Mexican caught her chin with a hook in which he invested his full power. Isa made an step back, stunned but still unprotected. He dug his fists in her liver one, two, three tines, studying the pain grimace that grew up distorting her visage. She repelled him with a roundhouse, and spitted some blood on the mat. The Mexican circled her again. She let her score some face punches, studying his guard, and eventually her arm whipped faster than his aborting a punch try with a faster than view demolition piller driver that sent him to the canvas much rapidly than gravity. His inert body rebounded several times. The ref didn't need to count. Isa climbed on the ropes and flexed her swollen muscles. Back in her room Miren awaited Isa. Two hours after the bout, she quitted the idea of her coming up, naked herself, took one more long luxury shower and went to bed. As soon as she lied in somebody knocked the door, and before Miren could reach, it opened and a fresh Isa came in. She seemed fully recovered from the bout, except for some swelling in her cheeks. She walked across the suit touching everything. 'Pretty stall, this one. Do you mind to dress up? I've ordered dinner'. The teenager threw the dressing gown, revealing her white naked body to Isa's attentive glance. Miren was shorter and lighter than Isa but her limbs were about the same bulky complexion, with thick wrists and ankles, robust knees and massive thighs, but an incredibly narrow wasp waist. Her wet brown hair curled over her round shoulders and her equally wet silky crotch showed off with relaxed naturalness. 'Don't look that strong. My boss' gonna give me a ticking- off for paying a top rank hotel to a farmer just for beating a retired old man in a lucky strike. I want to see how strong you are. Could we test?' Miren shrugged her tiny lips, cleared the silver stuff on a polished marble tea table and knelt down before Isa, elbow on the table and hand open. Isa put the high heel shoes off, took off her shirt, felt on her knees and took a not surprisingly tight grip on Miren's muscled hand, still open. Isa had thick fingers and long painted nails, probably faked. You say go, said Miren blowing her hair out her face and slowly wrapping Isa's hand closing her fingers one by one and tightening like a vice. Isa made a three count down and both girls crashed her bodies against each other, because they had spin the marble tea table with their left hands. They put the table back in place and Isa suggested a wrist-wrestling lock with left hands also grabbed to avoid unbalance. They locked lefts, put the elbows on and locked rights even firmer than before. Isa grabbed first and pressed to make Miren's grip uncomfortable. Miren tried to force her thumb out Isa's tough grip unsuccessfully. Isa counted down again and immediately putting Miren's arm half way down. The younger tried to rally but found her left hand overpulled and lacking leverage. Both girls strained and grimaced using the muscles from their whole torsos to seek any advantage. Isa's abs bulged like boiling lava as her contracted pecs made her c-cupped breasts occasionally bump. She used her wider reach to increase leverage on Miren's half beaten right arm. When Miren was fully devoted to cope with that, with a sudden jerk she gained some advantage with the left and quickly lifted up her whole body to put again more pressure on the right. Isa repeated the move again and again. With each jerk she gained a tiny but significant advantage. Miren soon found herself at the border of defeat, with the left arm completely extended and her body leaning rightward twisted in a painful position for her lateral muscles. Isa stopped jerking and showed a strained smile. 'Give up?' Miren replied with a surge of power completely absorbed by Isa's muscles. The younger strongwoman felt her waist breaking and her upper half split off her spine by a new sudden jerk from Isa. She asked the teenager to quit and each negative was followed by a new painful tug. Miren's face was shining with perspiration and strained, but still pale. She glanced at Isa's red but smiling visage with wet desperate eyes. Pain tormented every single muscle of her body, preventing her from moving her opponent arms a single millimeter. The tough boxer had already realized she had come across a diamond in brute endowed with natural monster strength, the sort of colossus she felt so aroused breaking into submission. Now that she knew how strong the country girl was her next goal was to show her who was the boss. The outcome of the strength test would determine the hierarchy in their future relation. Determined to beat her, Isa changed tactics and finding extra strength from Miren's suffering look, applied a continuous pressure increase on her right till Miren's arm started to tremble, still not yielding. Miren shut her eyes and arched her lips, groaning like a she-bear. Isa knew the younger couldn't cope with that much longer but blowing through her nose decreased the pressure. Miren's arm stopped trembling. She opened her eyes and cried. 'C'mon finish me off. Which game are you playing'. 'I don't want to put you down', said Isa, 'I want you to give'. An anxious Miren breathed noisily. She was ready to be beaten. Al had made it before being defeated by the girl. But she just did not know how to quit. She was far too proud and Isa felt it. That's why the elder girl enjoyed the instant, growing more and more powerful as she approached the dreamed instant of hearing that nake strength freak from the country submit. Not every day one could tame a wild defeat-virgin strongteen in a pure muscle contest. She leaned forward placing all her weight on Miren's both arms and waited. She was so close to her could breath the warm steam coming from Miren's wet breasts. She kissed her bulky neck. Miren on her knees felt her uncovered nether lips expanding between her huge thighs. But this time she couldn't feel any pleasure, only rage. She inflated her chest, grit her teeth and contracted all her body concentrating every ounce of her massive bare strength on her right arm, which started to rise. Isa couldn't believe it. She was using her initial grip advantage, her reach advantage and finally her weight advantage, and Miren was countering all that down and even recovering just with muscular pressure. Her neckhair raised. Somebody knocked the door. 'Dinner is ready'. 'Come in', said Isa, highly dissapointed but unwilling to break the match. A youngster came pushing a metallic trolley and suddenly froze in the middle of the suite, staggering. Two beautiful girls, one of them completely naked, the other bare feet and in white generously filled bra were on her knees armwrestling on a marble tea table. 'S.. s.. sorry, M'dms'. 'Don't go', said Isa, having an evil idea. 'My friend is a bit strained and needing a massage, but we both have something in hand. Please help her, c'mon', said the bigger srongwoman with a compelling voice. Miren opened her eyes and saw on the corner the youngster shyly approaching behind her. She had rallied to a leveled position with her right, but her left arm was still fully extended with her hand trapped under Isa's steel abdomen. When she saw the youngster behind her she broke concentration, but Isa didn't take advantage. Following Isa's instructions the boy massages Miren's shoulders. His fingers are not strong enough to bend Miren's muscles, but still his only presence increases her arousal. 'Looks like her tits are quite stiff as well, -said Isa-, can't you help it?' Not even in his wilder sexual fantasies had the boy imagined himself in such a position. In a determined move he cupped Miren's tits and pressed. God, they were tough. He pressed as hard as he could and his fingers sank just a few millimeters in the warm breast meat. He felt Miren's hard nipples growing up more than one inch and pushing inside his hands. Her first reaction was to handle him off, but Isa didn't release her double grip. Instead, she encourages the boy offering him plenty of money if he is man enough to make Miren come. The boy had lost all prevention. If this was a dream he had to hurry up and enjoy before waking. Running one hand down Miren's back probed between her big buttocks and found her humid steamy vagina fully opened. With his bigger finger pressed the base of her rock hard clit, surrounded it and tried to bend it with his fingertip. Miren sighed. She fights to release her hands, this time not to handle the boy off but to huge him and probably break his ribs, but again Isa's grip avoids it. 'Nobody makes anything with my body I don't wanna do', said the proud girl controlling her arousal. The boy tries his best unsuccessfully. Isa doubles her offer. 'No way', said Miren, breathing deeply and regularly. Isa offers ten times the already huge amount of money. 'C'mon little man, make this child girl come and you'll be rich'. The boy pushes his left hand on Miren's silky crotch, goes down to pin Miren's clit between both hand's fingers and continues his pretty skillful massage. Miren arches rhythmically, keeping her deep breathing in control. It was obvious that the youngster's girlfriend had to be a girl fully satisfied, but she is determined not to come and demonstrate who is in control. The boy tries the nipples again, then softly the anus' circle, then harder deep in the vagina pumping with his whole closed fist. Miren was in the border of orgasm but her will was even tougher than her muscles. At last the boy pins her clit again, softly pulling and pushing in an estimulating vibrato that invades with warmth the deeper of her nervous sytem and sends pleasure waves up to her cold ears, toetips and nipples. She stops breathing, aware that any minimal muscle move in her glowing body would trigger her hardly contained sexual climax. Impotent, he quits. 'Sorry M'dam, I can't'. Miren glanced up in his eyes. He was about her age, and cute. Isa released her hands. Miren stood up, grabbed the boy by his red jacket lapels and carried him into the bathroom.