Measuring Miren's strength
by Ric
Miren gets close to Isa's friends from the University


When Isa hang off the gloves she was a student of Physics in the 
University. She introduced young Miren to some of her mates and 
the peasant girl quickly showed as much inclination for the 
scientific chats as for armwrestling. Greg was a 21 y.o. friend 
of Isa who quickly got close to the young girl. Despite her 
discrete nature, Miren became popular among Isa's friends, 
amusing the slightly older students with her strength shows, and 
getting from them a source of continuous intellectual excitement, 
something she missed in her boyfriend's atmosphere in the 
country. Even though Greg had a normal complexion and thus wasn't 
completely unable to provide any opposition to the little 
strongwoman, he could still satisfy Miren's need for intellectual 
stimulation. He got her into the physics of armwrestling, balance 
of forces and dynamic equilibrium. He explained her how he could 
move a lorry with his little finger whether a second joint lorry 
generated exactly the same amount of force than the first in 
opposite sense. She laughed imagining herself armwrestling the 
off-limits champ in a completely leveled match and Greg giving 
her the win just by closing his face to their viciously locked 
monster strong hands and softly blowing onto Miren's hand back. 
He was fond of human physiology also, and they spent increasing 
time together talking about adrenaline, blood pumping rate and 
muscular fibers. She learnt that two muscles of the same size 
could exert different strength depending on the structure, size 
and densities of their fibers. That could explain, he said 
rolling up his sleeve and showing off a moderate biceps, how 
Miren's strength was some ten times his, with her biceps being 
just about twice bigger. Once, at his flat, she suggested that 
she was in fact more than ten times stronger than him. Greg 
escaped to the bathroom and came back with an electronic balance. 
He put it on his chest and pressed it with his right hand as hard 
as he could. Miren read 40 Kg. Not too bad, he said patting. 
Miren leaned the balance on  her chest with her left and pressed 
the plate with her right thumb. The thick finger bent by its 
first articulation, the fingertip white stained under the nail. 
Greg read 80 Kg. When he was reading Miren smiled and started 
pressing really hard. Greg had to take his mandible from the 
floor. The display run up to its 200 maximum and blacked out. 
Looks like we have to try something else, he said, getting really 
interested in measuring the actual strength difference between 
them. He took the balance again and pressed the plate with his 
right little finger. The finger painfully bent to an impossible 
position, but he bite his lips and pressed harder, determined to 
give Miren a good match. Eventually he couldn't stand the pain 
and quitted, squealing. Miren congratulated his pretty impressive 
19 Kg. She constricted her right fist and stretched the fingers 
open to get blood irrigation, then she delicately touched the 
plate with her still thick little finger and closed the rest. Her 
biceps jolted softball size. The display started to increase 
steady 20, 40, 60, 80... at 168 it stopped Miren's last finger-
bone bent almost 90§ with the rest of the finger. The tip and the 
over-stretched articulation were white but a nasty violet stain 
surged in the middle. OK, he said, that makes you... 8.8 times 
stronger than myself, you failed. Strained Miren looked at him as 
if the figure were an insult. Her finger was aching like hell, 
but her arm still could flex harder. She frowned, blew through 
her nostrils and jerked up to 182. The last figure oscillated and 
went down to 180. Good try, beasty, that makes 9.5 times my 
strength, still not as much as you claimed. Miren had reached the 
top of her little finger strength and toughness. The pain was 
unbearable and she was risking a serious injury. She was terribly 
afraid of breaking her finger bone with her own strength. Only 
one thing was harder to bear than the pain, Greg's smile of 
victory. Enraged, she commanded her pecs to contract in a violent 
lash, pushing the balance against her iron finger. The machine 
displayed 198 and then blacked out again. Hands in hips Greg 
nodded. The little devil had come out on top as usual.