At Neo-LA a new club downtown was making more cash than the hard core foxy boxing, the strength shows and the nude bodybuilding altogether. It was called the Titan Queen and promoted the pursuit for the toughest chest through a peculiar kind of fighting popularly known as tit wars. One reason for the crazy success of tit wars was the main rule for admission, which selected kind of peculiar she-warriors: only girls sporting mammaries which account for at least one sixth of her body weight were allowed to compete. No fat balls, no muscled gorillas. All delicate frames miraculously capable to sport immense breasts without falling face first. Wasp-waist slender beauties hidden behind massive pectoral attributes. Pretty girls attached to giant rubber boobs. Power and endurance complete the picture. Big deal guaranteed.
There was only three ways for wining a tit war: either pushing the rival out of the fighting circle merely with aid of breast blocks, by verbal submission, or by knock out after a count of ten. Warriors fight bare chest and with hands tied up at their backs to prevent them from foul play.
Miren had been brought to Neo-LA by a big firm of competition swimsuits that was launching an aggressive campaign for a new look of their traditional sportswear. The pursued swimsuits were just a bit lower cut in the chest than usual, and any girl could get one for free provided her tits were firm and bulky enough to overflow the carrying capacity of the cloth and keep the tissue outstretched. In every Californian beach long queues of ultragifted nanas fitted undersized swimsuits to find out whether meat or cloth prevailed. Those big enough strutted down the beach letting show her overwhelming pectoral power. They wanted Miren to conduct an armwrestling tournament among the successful candidates. There was a huge money price and a contract for a commercial. It was a long day of beach armwrestling with Strength Queen setting peace among the overexcited meat loafs, and playing the lead in a rampaging finale where she armwrestled the eight strongest finalists. She didn't need to fake to warm up the crowd. The jamming pleased organizers booked for Miren a couple of sits for those hitting Tit Wars at Titan Queen. They couldn't do better. Tit warrior Zeena "Bomber" Doster dominated the scene with her extra-hard missiles which had pondered out two dozen pairs of other magnum-size boobs. This aged amazon is accused of sadistic tendencies, prolonging her bouts to complete demolition of her rivals. Both physical and psychologically.
Tonight the sacred dominatrix is going to face the rising star in the sport, and Miren is taking Kali out to see it. Also unbeaten though much younger, the unimaginably developed Tiffany Sweet, a next-door type fresh little girl whose face had her away from being served a beer in a pub, but whose body would qualify to be the single partner of 1001 Arabian stallions in a hard version of the tale.
Tiff is called first and she breaks thru exploding in a wannabe smile spitting health by each pore of her exotic figure, almost offensively charming, showing her perfect mare teeth. Men's women hate her but it is no matter because most in the public are woman's women, if I can put it that way. Truck drivers and bad students already got her poster on the wall. Worshipped Tiff wears bike shorts that explode on her thighs and an armor plated -it has to be armor plated to resist- gray tank top that she's going to take off and people just can't wait. The announcer salutes and reads up a long list of sponsors and people hauls and shells the stage with everything throwable, because they are stiff and want Tiff to stun them to dead with a single jerk. The man in black reads and reads, Tiff playfully grabs the edge of the top and fake to pull off. People get totally nuts waiting for the pull. Even Miren's ice is melting and she finds unbearably long the proceedings. She grips her sit and her mighty fingers destroy the PVC working them as plasticine. Eventually the announcer says the words '.....ssssweetest Tiffany Sweet' and comes time to see, time for revelation, and 3000 new adepts join the new religion ready and willing to climb Tiff mountains to the summit.
Then Zee strutted out in a silky pressurized yellow bikini. There was enough tissue there to make up a flag for the Colombian embassy, yet the top looked like two minuscule triangles hardly covering one third of the meat mounds. The announcer cried out her impressive record and stats, and Zee rips her top to shreds with her steel nails in the middle of a savage bellow. Definitely she can compete in size with the power-teen and the public acknowledge it for her credit. Unlike Tiff, Zeena's melons do change in shape after getting rid of the bra. But they don't fall a fraction of an inch. Rather they expand and grow forth, getting peaky, topped by astonishing long and thick nipples. So they do seem real missiles, and a big plain would be necessary to take them off. The base of the left gun is strapped, as a result of getting injured in her public challenge against two tenacious napkins, but the straps are mostly unseen covered by oozing meat. Buy the way, she went on and did burst the napkins. The biggest of her male assistants stands before her and shows his palms, and Zeena begins a dreadful session of tit blows against his hands; jaws, combos, hooks and a whole arsenal of pectoral power that forces the sinewy arms of the big guy back with each hit. The noise recalls a quarter beef in the butchery. Two other assistants rub her thighs and shoulders. As an early perspiration gleams on her snow-white boobs she takes a breath. Then they change roles, he clinches his fists and punches. Serious punches. Zee takes it all. His huge hands disappear inside all that meat and are propelled back even faster with no apparent damage in the living missiles. Only a slight trembling in Zee's cheeks and nostrils betrays the pain she is taking. After a long while she shows her teeth and insults her assistant. Is that your best shot, jackass, Sissy the Austrian princess could beat you armwrestling. The block tried his best, but he sweat more than her.
Sweet Tiff watches it all, totally unimpressed, and rubbers her own weapons causing download of internal fluids in most females and virtually all males in the audience. Miren still holds on, but she has to control herself to keep her hands off. Little Tiffany sticks her hands in the oil deposit and spreads it on her left tit with both hands. She repeats it two times more and then moves to her right one. At the end there's no much oil left in the deposit, but Zee's team has another on their own. Tiff always refuses to be assisted. She has no boyfriend nor mate either. It's part of her legend. Some even say she's a virgin, which after all would be according to her age. She has once declared she would marry the man who could stand her breast huge. Immediately a endless row of volunteers queued up for the eppreuve, but little Tiff squeezed them down one after the other. Each time the muscles of a new tougher pretender stamped on the ground she sighed.
Madame l'arbitre calls the amazons to the center, clenches their arms and bends them indelicately behind their backs for the second refs. to tie up wrists. Zee is slightly shorter but she compensates with oversized basket Nikes; her slim fragile ankles get lost in there, she's all chest and trainers. Tiff wrestles barefoot. It's a miracle she doesn't fall forward so minuscule her cotton feet are, sporting even nail-less round microtoes. As they face one another their female endowments inevitable clash, they will have to keep them in separate rooms to prevent from that. There's a thick silence and strained expectation to see which bosom yields first. Gamblers grit their teeth as the balloons collide. The hyperventilating wrestlerettes inflate their colossal chests for extra tightness. Zee's steel stilettos just bend Tiff's stony boulders. Kali jumps celebrating.
So they declare the war, in fact there was no need, Zee's eyes pour down bad-blood for the brat who has stolen her supporters, because in her early thirties Zee is awesomely good looking and her megaboobs stay up and tight, yet she lacks the hook of all-naive all-powerful child. The girl who regrets to be so much stronger than anybody else and after the bouts offer her hand to the rivals she had just knocked down.
It is NOT a mild beginning. Zee studies Tiff and probes with her huge nipple rods searching for a weakness. Tiff hits back blow by blow in a more crushing way. She piledrivers Zee. Zee jackhammers her. More experienced, more accurate, lighter and faster, Zee finds an opening. Her missiles had made the downside of Tiff's left sore, and each new leap elicits a buffed moan in the young blonde. She looks and finds the precise spot viciously, forcing the young queen to backpedal, for general concern, one, two, three steps. She's still far from the limits of the circle, but that edge that early in the match deceive Tiff's supporters. Odds get unbalanced. Miren is caught by the sight of the two massive females crushing with brutal chest-leaps to decide breast supremacy. Her own breasts ached with the sight, but she couldn't help a strong rush to test the toughness of her tits against one of those breast freaks. She lifted her open hands, as measuring. Next to her, Kali was engaged in an animated chat with her other neighbor. A brunette guy with blue eyes, thick neck and tight jeans. Kali supported Zee and apparently they were fixing a gamble. He wasn't totally stupid. Despite a strained face, Tiff had stopped yielding ground. Zee was digging a purple stained whole in her left tit with the rocky nipples, but she countered now with an all power frontal double blow which involved most of her upper body muscles. Energy demanding but effective to halt Zee's missiles. The point was she was expending much more fuel. Her luscious body was drenching and she splintered the three first rows with sweat beads with each crash. Zee fought conservative, she had to admit the bravery of the less experienced girl. The tougher she was the greater my victory will be, she may think, and keeping her mind cold hammered Tiff's breasts. It was like a skillful quarryman reducing to splinters two huge round rocks, slowly, methodically and unstoppably. Tiff started to move back again. This was received with desperate delirious cries. Tiff's retreat feeds Zee's strength and confidence. She didn't restrain herself anymore, launching a massive attack, a bit less accurate but far more powerful. Tiff's eyes watered, along with most in the public. She glanced at the electronic panel. They hadn't agree any part-called time-out, but there will be a one min. break every ten min. Still two min. to go. Zee redoubled her thrusts, sticking her horns deeper into poor Tiff. She was so encouraged she was going for a nipple to nipple war, and let the tougher survive. Tiff's legs got limp and... bzzzz, holly break. Zee reluctantly stepped backwards to her corner, rising her assistant-freed arms, which made her shining missiles further protrude and point even higher. She clutched them with her hands and squeezed, shouting, you can't hurt me, I'll tear off your shity balloons with my real woman rockets. They were not allowed to sit during breaks, so all Tiffany did was to take deep breathing, not daring to touch the mauled megatitties. When the ref. called them back to the center of the arena for the next round she checked the tied wrists and asked Tiffany whether she wanted to go on. She nodded.
In the next ten minutes Zee outbreasted Tiff close to the limits of the circle and desperately charged to put her out, but Tiff resisted as if her tiny feet were trapped in concrete. After the buzz Zee threw a colossal headbutt. Tiff knelt down but proudly stood up very quick. The ref. checked her head and gave a warning to Bomber Zeena. She spit out. In the following break Zeena commanded an assistant to pinch her nipples to get extra erection. She was determined to finish off the bruised and fatigued blonde. The titanic teen should wreck. Miren started to lose faith and looked for Kali. She had her hand between the legs of her new mate. A huge dark stain went down from the crotch the about the knee.
Zeena opened the new round with a flying frontal block and both girl rolled on the ground. Zee got up first and used her knees to ponder poor Tiffany till the ref. broke in. Zee's mouth foamed with anxiety, seen her nemesis hurt so badly. But she did control her feelings and started a wise, demolishing series of hooks hitting the soft meat just below Tiff's aureoles. A few shy cries rose from her supporters cheering up. There was 6 min. left still and she had already forced Tiff close to the limits. The slaps of the humungous tits crashing sounded as a drum as Zee frantically increased the pace of her blows to a sort of drumroll announcing a finale definitive strike. Tiff shivered. Her mouth was open but her jaw was stiff and she couldn't help a warm dribbling which flowed down splashing her bruised mammaries and mixing with the sweat and bruise. Zee suddenly stopped and made one step back. Get out, she's gonna leap. It was Miren who had shouted. Zeena produced an evil laugh from the deepest of her throat. Leap? I could put her down just blo... Thud! She did blow, her lungs got completely empty as Tiffany's torso stumped and encrusted into hers. She backpedaled three meters. She wished to be daydreaming but she wasn't. Sweet Tiff hit again even harder. She distinctly heard the strapping in her left tit exploding and a sharp unbearable pain biting her spine. Little Tiff blew a third time. A perfectly frontal collision. That girl could set a freight train into motion with her breasts alone. This time was Zeena who looked for a low number in the electronic panel, and she was lucky. The buzz sounded.
The shortest assistant in Zeena's team worked hard on her injured tit, fixing back the strapping. Tiff waited in the center, gasping and panting majestically, as only a female warrior can gasp and pant. Her magnificent weapons, swollen and larger than ever, rose and rested as two hyperstrong pachyderms scared by a fierce battle. She's got the world biggest toughest tits, she's gonna crack Zee's and become undefeated champion. She is indeed, reflected Miren, looking forward for a face to face meeting.
In the next round Tiff became the clear dominatrix. Each time she won a couple of meters stepped back an called Zee to charge, shaking her head to get her blonde mane off her childish face. The brunette's missiles had certainly lost a good part of their mass, and looked painfully soft and unshaped. Tiff's tetons oozed and stretched the golden skin. After 48 min. of carnage Zee conceded. Rude amazon in tears. Tiff didn't celebrate an awful lot. She visually challenged and humiliated her rival, received the belt from the ref., showed it to the hooting crowd and rushed to the lockers. Miren‹s eyes run after her. She figures they'd squeeze each other's tits till 6 am next day, when Tiff eventually submitted. Perhaps her meat mountains could take it longer, but her pussy certainly couldn't.
