The Boston Gala
by Ric
Miren competes in the amateur armwrestling challenge for a place among the pros 
Update: 21/09/97 to ric

In the plane to Boston Miren played with the just conquered snake ring. Her old 
rings now only fit in her little fingers, three in each, mostly gifts from her 
former boyfriend except for one, the older, from mum, and another, her favorite, 
from Isa. Several bracelets and a flexible tube skirt down to her knees added 
some sophistication on her fresh teen look. Next sit, Paul napped his chest 
going heavily up and down. She placed one hand on him and shook it disturbing 
his rest. Paul. You think you could find the way to the hunter Princess place 
again? I would like to offer her the ring back if she can beat me armwrestling 
or whatever she wanted to test her strength against mine. Paul took his 
earphones out and opened one eye. Haven't you got enough with the girls 
attending the gala? They have been assorted by people from the circuit all over 
the world specialized in recruiting strength freaks. They look for strongboys 
and girls in the most remote and hidden places you can imagine. You won't be 
deceived. Last year's winner jumped to world number five and even put Deb into 
dire straits to keep her belt in a strike to the title held in Vegas. The 
champion was given a foul for hand-shoulder touch, so hard the young newcomer 
made her struggle. Miren fitted the snake ring in her middle fingers, it was 
otherwise too loose. She decided to wear it on her right hand.

When Miren woke him up again they had already landed. They took a taxi to the 
hotel. Isn't it boring so many flights? said the girl, I tried all channels with 
the earphones and got nothing but rubbish. By the way, they told in the radio 
that Lioness had won her first bout 2-1 in the St. Petersburg open, the White 
Bear took her one pull. She declared it had been a robbery from the Russian 
referees, but I think she's getting old. Old? I reckon you can consider all 
everybody over 20, but Corinne can pull down your pants, put you on her knees 
and spank your pretty bottom as soon as she wanted. My friend Greg told me 
people reach the maximum muscular power between 19 and 21 for men and between 17 
and 19 for women, only resistance increases later on. But I think I have already 
reached the biggest I can be. I hadn't grown a single centimeter upon this past 
year. With my height is unlikely I'll enter the heavy weight class and demolish 
your girlfriend. For a fraction of a second the image of Corinne and Miren 
locking hands for an armwrestling match flight across Paul's mind, bursting his 
bone medulla. Before meeting Corinne, he used to set down the conflicts between 
his pretenders encouraging them to amwrestle for him. Danielle, one of his first 
lovers, wasn't much stronger than an average sporty girl, in normal conditions, 
though fighting for Paul motivated her so much she struggled like a she-wolf 
defending her brood till the tougher women gave up. She yelled more than a rat, 
her red face boiled, but no girl had ever beaten her in front of Paul's eyes. 
Her dramatic raptures put him so horny they had brutal sex as soon as she dealt 
with the rival. It was the closest to love Paul had ever felt. But the French 
strongboy was a highly desired beefcake for many groupies in the strength 
circuit, and poor Danielle was plenty of work standing up for her privileged 
position. Some days she had up to four or five well trained hard body cheer-
leaders to armwrestle with. Since she was forced to rely on her emotionally fed 
endurance, pulls were long and tough, and she ended up completely exhausted, 
just to receive her hard core price for the repeated wins. Danielle lost weight 
and color, her struggles became dramatic and Paul feared for her life. Then he 
saw in a mag a picture of ever-smiling Corinne with her meaty cheeks, her tiny 
cheerful eyes and her huge shoulders. Every thing changed. The Lioness was just 
the opposite to Danielle. Endowed with a natural superhuman physical power and 
the laziest and most shameless character on Earth. At first sight she, like most 
other girls, fancied Paul. Then, after trying, she savagely desired him. At last 
a man who could stand her huge during sex. Now the couple survived thanks to a 
certain mutual allowance combined to a strict pecking order. He beat her the 
first time, but he couldn't repeat his feat anymore.
     
Next day, in the hotel cafeteria were the competition took place, Paul checked 
Miren's outfit, wrapped her wrist, applied a light warming up massage to her 
right arm, stretched her fingers and gently slapped her meaty face. Right, young 
lady, treat them hard. Two of the tables in the center of the room separated 
from the rest had been conditioned for serious sitting armwrestling. A flock of 
organizers all dressed in black, listed the boys and girls, assigned them 
numbers and refereed the matches. A first raw of tables hosted the relatives and 
coaches of the participants, while some public occupied the remained place, 
mostly promoters, talent hunters and people from specialized media. 

 The first pulls were a matter of routine. Miren just locked up with her rivals, 
her snake ring spitting light strokes, and to ref.'s call pinned them down as 
though only she were thrusting. She was so superior, she ignored her rivals and 
watched the matches in the other table. A blonde girl with long smooth hair who 
looked older than her but she was told was 14, was winning all her matches as 
easily as herself. They intensely locked their eyes while sweeping out rival 
after rival. She wore golden ear rings and a thick golden collar clasped to her 
mare neck. She had big blue eyes and a wide nose with big black nostrils, and 
the fine arched lips of her semi-opened mouth let huge square front teeth 
uncovered. Her body was shapely and fibrous. She wrestled wearing a rough old-
fashion bikini with rigid cups generously filled up with breasts much bigger 
than average for a girl of her age and frame. She evil smiled thumping a new 
rival arm hard on the touch pad. Miren, next table, was having some trouble with 
a fat black girl who constricted and twisted like a jungle snake, managing to 
resist the Basque stonelifter. Paul angrily called her attention to her own 
business, forgetting the girl in the table beside. Miren controlled her rival's 
jerks, squeezing the black hand as a ripe fruit and thumped it against the touch 
pad, turning her eyes to the blonde girl, for Paul's desperation. Who's she? she 
asked him after eliminating all rivals in the first series, and while receiving 
his massages and stretching. Forget her. You didn't come here to socialize. 
You'll meet her later. Miren came back to her table and locked up with a new 
contestant, a cute native guy quite determined. Meanwhile next table the blonde 
was finishing off a ponytailed Asian girl slightly tougher than her previous 
rivals. Miren realized she was barefoot and had more golden chains on her 
ankles, totaling several pounds of metal all over her hyper-tanned body. Each 
time the ref. announced her as winner lifting her thick arm, her metalware 
sounded as the heavy chains of a prisoner. And he had to do it again and again. 
Miren at her turn kept the rampaging pace eliminating contestants. Paul had 
advised her to reserve energy for the long day, but she was infected with the 
exultant superiority of the blonde, and used her full power to quickly destroy 
her increasingly tough rivals. By the end of the evening the four finalists had 
been selected. The blonde, Miren, an extremely young Canadian girl who had come 
with her mum and a German boy with trunk-like arms. Miren's swollen arm was sore 
and the shoulder ached when she rolled it, yet she was tremendously happy. How 
am I doing, dad? I'll tell you tomorrow, and don't call me that, said Paul 
running his thumbs along Miren's muscle cords. She playfully flexed turning them 
rock hard and expelling out his pressing fingers.

In the small hours of the morning Miren abandoned hope to fall asleep and got up 
to the balcony of her hotel room, to watch the traffic condense and dilute 
through the broad avenue. Much sooner than expected she found herself traveling 
overseas with a cute French guy and she didn't spend any money, rather she was 
paid! And all she needed to do is occasionally show up her natural strength, 
expertly enhanced by the team of the French strongman. She recalled the loved 
things she had left behind in her home village, her boyfriend, to begin with, 
her family, the set of things that made her feel good and confident... she 
didn't miss anything. The extreme sensations she had experienced in the last few 
weeks since she had let show the power she carried deep inside her body, had 
completely fulfilled her emotional needs. In fact her life had accelerated so 
much, so many bizarre names had invaded her privacy at once, that she had had no 
time to make herself aware she had jumped to a privileged lifestyle where 
everything she daydreamed was under the reach of her fingertips. And it was just 
starting out. She walked in, planted herself before the mirror and flexed her 
left arm, admiring the massive boulder that grew stretching her arm skin. She 
probed it with one finger; it certainly was as hard as a stone. It had been 
already there, since she was a child, perhaps not that grown, but only now she 
got conscience of its rarity. She had proved in public it was more powerful than 
a well trained male former pro armwrestler. It was unique in its class. She 
possessed something incomparable, that no person of her size or up to twice 
bigger had could match so far: bare strength. She remembered the boulder ever in 
there. The thing she didn't know was the huge superiority of the power it could 
generate, till she defeated the German shot-putter. She crossed her fists before 
her crotch and interlaced her fingers, palm in palm, and tensed to make her 
triceps and forearms shape and bulge, pressing her pale breasts against each 
other. Her nipples hardened. Paul had eventually accepted not only to train her 
but also to travel with her to Boston. Corinne had made close friendship with a 
mature Russian female Olympic wrestler and was traveling with her to attend the 
St. Petersburg invitational open. Nothing new for the couple nor challenging its 
peculiar stability. Isa was expected to come along, but in the very last minute 
she had rang saying she stayed to prepare her bare knuckles bout against scary 
Thundra. He could have also put excuses, but he agreed to come along with her 
and stay three days in America. Still he had booked separate rooms and Miren 
couldn't guess his intentions concerning her. She promised him to face Corinne 
if he gave her a chance, and several times after the hardest training sessions 
she had thought that he would dated her, but apparently he kept herself as a 
bait to prompt her to tougher and tougher working out. Yet she deserved a 
chance. She worked harder than anybody else in the gym. The guys worshipped her. 
They called her the Strength-Queen. Everybody adored her except Paul. He treated 
her as a draught horse. He had to read her feelings, smell her arousal when he 
sat her on his legs to apply the hand massage, when he pressed her kidneys while 
she squatted, or when he carried her in his arms when she collapsed at the end 
of the long-distance races she lately had against the athletics city team. 
Perhaps he was just waiting for her to step forward the first. She opened the 
wardrobe and took out a velvet gown and, after making sure nobody was around, 
she walked barefoot through the corridor to Paul's room next door. She knocked 
lightly with no reply. Touching the knob she realized the door was open. She 
slipped into the hall. The street lights illuminated the suite. She heard the 
noise of a body rolling among the sheets. She stuck her head out to see the 
bedroom. Paul's loose arms felt like tree trunks on the floor. His feet hung 
wide spread on the bed-head. Among his bulky thighs there was a trapped head; it 
was the blonde Australian girl with the horse face and mighty arms that had 
qualified for the finals. More than a half of Paul's huge cock disappeared 
inside her mouth. Paul watched her inverted, but didn't stop her hip shaking. 
Should have knocked, shouldn't you? I did it said Miren, turning back and 
leaving, but you're too busy to hear.

Soon after coming back to bed Miren heard her door knocked. It was Paul, with a 
towel clasped to his waist, and behind appeared the horse faced girl, completely 
naked apart from her usual ironware. I must apologize not letting you know. I 
met Pam in the lounge, we had some drinks and decided to know each other 
further. She doesn't want you to think there's something against you, in fact it 
was her idea to come and apologize for disturbing. Miren watched the Australian 
blonde. She didn't smile but she looked more sympathetic than last day in the 
armwrestling bouts. Leaning on the threshold, she caressed her crotch down, 
making curls around her fingertips. That's right, girl. I suppose you need to 
rest for tomorrow, otherwise I wouldn't mind you to join us. Paul looked at her 
up down. She circled his thigh and pulled him out. Come man, let her sleep. 

The finals took place in a much bigger place, the hotel's arena, and Don 
Donaldson himself, one of the circuit bosses, came around to have a chat with 
the pullers in the warming up session. He was a fat bald man. Big gold rings 
populated his hairy fingers. Some people thought he was blind because always 
wore sunglasses and let an Asian bombshell who had a head on him lead him by his 
arm everywhere. She was wardrobe size still gorgeous and elegant, not a bouncer 
type but a sort of overgrown geisha. Paul introduced him to Miren. The girl was 
bending a thick iron bar, and didn't shake Donaldson's spread hand. The Asian 
bodyguard, eyes stuck on Miren, moved her head in a circle, as warming up her 
neck. Eventually Donaldson brought his hand back and forcefully smiled, 
accepting the apologizing gesture from Paul. Keep on working, that's my motto. 
The Asian woman didn't appreciate Miren's rudeness that much and muttered an 
insult. Miren's eyes targeted her like an automatic firing mechanism. Biting her 
lips, the girl handled the bent bar to the female colossus. She clenched her 
huge hands on the bar and grunted. A thick sweat bead spoiled her make up. 
Taking a second win she charged again grunting even louder, but equally failed 
and eventually gave up dropping the bar. Donaldson furiously slapped her face 
and threatened her with dismissal. Can I try? asked a witness of the scene. It 
was the German boy who had also qualified for the finals. He grabbed the bar 
Miren had arched and bent it till his fists touched. 
The toss pitted in first place Pam, the Australian blonde, against the youngest 
girl, always supported and assisted by her bulky mother. As they locked hands 
and started pulling the Canadian child broke down crying, clearly overpowered by 
the blonde girl, who was introduced as she-horse. While the big mum relieved her 
daughter, Miren locked up with the German. His arm was markedly thicker than 
hers. With the first thrust Miren lost a few inches that she awkwardly recovered 
in a long rally. Then she dug her finger into his hand progressively increasing 
her squeeze. The boy bravely struggled to cope with her grip. Miren studied his 
face, tightening and loosing, learning with curiosity the effects of her 
recently acquired monster squeezing as though the boy's tortured hand were the 
volume knob of a record player. She experienced the benefits of Paul's stone 
training, very satisfied. With watering eyes the boy slammed the table twice, 
calling submission. Miren tapped his back and congratulated him for his sportive 
effort. As both girls received their arm massages from their assistants, 
Donaldson entered the arena took the mike from the master of ceremonies and 
spoke to the spectators, all of them armwrestling managers, media people and 
strength events promoters personally invited by the circuit to the presentations 
of the new armwrestling stars.

Now dear friends the moment we all have been waiting for since now exactly one 
year ago, in this very place, we witnessed the birth of a new pro armwrestling 
star. The circuit promotes this rare event only once a year to guarantee maximum 
quality in our wrestlers. And only one place is vacant, only one of these brave 
boys and girls will end up as a professional armwrestler. All others will have 
to work out harder one more year. Having met our two finalists of this year I 
foresee a brutal clash right now. Second and last is the same result. Only the 
first and stronger succeed. The one candidate we followed all this year didn't 
deceive us. She is world intercollege Olympics wrestling champion, from Sidney, 
Australia, Pam she-horse Moolligan. She ignored people loud cheering. And the 
challenger, an outsider from Europe with stonelifting background we don't know 
much about her except that our French fellow Paul Levesque brings her to us... 
and her name is Miren. A few connoisseurs who had witnessed her match with Al 
Kafir stirred in their seats. The ref. called them together. They stood face to 
face killing each other with the eyes and making ready to do the same with the 
arms. The ref., slamming their muscle padded shoulders asked them to shake 
hands. They did it reluctantly and took their places at each side of the table. 
Pam protested every grip from Miren, so finally the ref took their hands and 
carefully interlaced their fingers one by one. As he did both girls panted 
hyperventilating their chests.

Pam's thrust made Miren instantly understand she wasn't facing a mare but an ox. 
Yet she didn't yield a single millimeter. The last strokes of the strength wave 
they had just generated, however, made her neck twist, painfully aching. Pam's 
bracelets clinked as she turned on more and more fibers in her arm muscle cords 
creating a burst of power that Miren's armor-plated arm entirely absorbed. At 
once the girls smiled each other. Only they knew how hard they were pulling, but 
their arms didn't move at all. Making her smile fade Pam added extra burden to 
her immense pressure while using her pecs to keep her arms close to her chest 
and find optimum leverage. Miren saw her arm yielding, though she couldn't help 
it. It was as a nightmare. Her arm didn't belong to her anymore but the blonde 
colossal grip was in charge. Flexing her own pecs, she managed to stop Pam, but 
instantly she felt something tore off inside her neck. Her eyes watered. Fists 
lifted in the air, Pam's trainer was throwing blows and shouting. She's on her 
last legs. Finish her off, Pam. You got her. Miren's jaw started trembling. She 
didn't know what was wrong, but it had to be some nerve digging straight into 
the brain, that much it hurt. Pam took a second wind. Miren knew she should take 
advantage and try to recover but her brain was paralyzed with the fear to 
further hurt her wrecked neck. She waited for Pam's final thrust like a lamb. 
The Australian stronggirl didn't deceive her. With a single stroke that made her 
arm veins inflate, she put Miren halfway down, and for some miraculous reason 
she slowed down to take air. Pam smiled. She was completely in control. Miren 
looked sick and soft, while the Australian's hard body gleamed with all the 
golden ornamentation. Weeping, with a shaking tear running down her cheek, Miren 
looked for Paul. It's all your fault, bastard, she shouted. Pam hesitated. She 
was ready to finish Miren up, but her shout broke her concentration. Miren 
shrunk her shoulders and pulled her arm up. A pain teardrop slip down her meaty 
cheek. The Australian stronggirl blew up like a bull, catching back her 
concentrated effort, and with infuriating easiness drove Miren's arm down again. 
Believe it or not, she increased her monster thrust as though it were a matter 
of turning louder a music player. But if there was a limit to the strength the 
Australian could muster, it was out of Miren's sight. Intuitively Miren 
approached her cheek to her fist. The ref gave her a call. She was exhausted and 
she had a hound dog biting her neck. The ref insisted, lifting his hand in a 
disqualification threat. Pam's eyes half closed. Her head slowly described a 
circle, waiting for her prey to give up. Forced by the ref, Miren took her upper 
body away from her arm, but she couldn't recover a straight position, her chest 
was rather twisted as a broken doll. Although apparently the blonde powerhouse 
was relaxed, her golden staff clinked on her vibrating skin. She was at full 
power. Miren tried desperately to get rid off her grip to force up a brake. 
Pam's fingers, though were thick tentacles and her hand a giant octopus 
squeezing Miren's hand bones. She realized Miren's intentions, yet, and grinned. 
Her huge white teeth showed off. Fight bitch, don't give yet. Let's find out 
who's the stronger. I want all doubts eliminated. though it was hard to believe, 
Pam managed to press harder on Miren, putting her pale arm in slow motion 
falling.

Go Miren, prove how strong you are. Give her a fight. The girl struggled to look 
at the owner of the deep voice, without moving her rigid neck. As suspected, it 
was Paul, standing up on his seat, his tanned arms spread as eagle wings, 
tearing off with his huge shoulders an old jeans vest. He was the center of the 
attention, people followed his clenched fist as though it were one of the 
girl's. I see your man still trusts you. You have to be a tough bitch to improve 
my last night performance. Not happy with her winning position Pam applied a few 
twisting techniques on Miren's arm. The stone lifter inverted her grip on the 
metal handle and made her upper limbs grow thicker and harder. The perfect 
balance was broken and the locked arms started to move upwards. Once reached the 
top they didn't halt but continued on their way down to Pam's pad. Now it was 
the Australian stronggirl who watched how her arm lost edge unable to turn the 
tide. She shut her eyes, spitting and dribbling through her horse lips. Her face 
turned red, then it lost all blood and finally become yellow-sick. Miren bent 
over, seeking and finding the leverage needed to pin down the transoceanic she-
Hercules. She held her defeated rival's hand pressed on the pad, waiting for her 
to open eyes, to lock to hers. Then she stood up, as the ref threw her swollen 
arm on the air. Her eyes looked for Paul's, still standing on the seat. Blowing 
a kiss on the audience, she dedicated him her victory. Taking the mike Mr. 
Donaldson asked the public to cheer the world's strongest amateur girl and 
welcome the new professional armwrestler, Strength-Queen Miren. Paul jumped over 
the heads of the public up to the platform, took Miren's other wrist and threw 
it to the space. Both big men, Paul and the ref, motivated by the vivid response 
from the crowd, pulled up so hard each of Miren's pumped limbs the girl's feet 
nearly lost touch with the ground. The flashes burst on her wet skin, revealing 
fleeting details of her face, breasts and armpits. A wave of sharp energy 
traveled down her innards, bursting into iron-melting heat pressing out her 
crotch skin. She noted herself yielding to the inner warmth that pushed its way 
out overflowing the narrow silver thong of her V-shaped bottom. Her tiny nose 
shrugged and her forehead lined, as nailed in a painful crucifixion. She 
strained her arms entwining her legs as huge snakes, and the melting iron 
slithered down cooling on her thighs. Her sight dazzled by underwater-like 
illumination. There were people out there, making pictures, shouting her name. 
She struggled against the shivering. Suddenly she recovered and noticed Pam was 
still there, leaning on the back of her sit, unwilling to stand up, perhaps 
thinking of the long year of hard training Miren had just shattered. She 
imagined the she-horse looked more fresh than her. Miren planted her wrestling 
boots on the platform, forced the two men arms down, got free and sat back on 
the table. Thumped her left elbow on and opened her fist as a hunting tentacle 
beast.