Megan's Muscle Tussle

Once, an admiring gym-goer had commented, a little tactlessly, that Megan was "as strong as an ox."

Megan had taken it as a compliment, however, in the spirit it was intended, because she'd just hit a new one-rep max for her squats – much more weight than the awestruck guy could handle, at his stage of progress. She loved being strong, and she loved that others could acknowledge her strength. In fact, they pretty much had no choice, when they saw for themselves the amount of iron she pumped!

This was part of the reason she loved the gym so much – no matter what your sex, it just came down to how much you could lift, how much progress you were making.

She was as strong as an ox, sure, and built like one – even before she took up weightlifting seriously in college she had always possessed the physique for it, with her broad shoulders and thick back, and naturally powerful thighs. Water sports were not her thing, and she was not that fond of the tanned, outdoorsy look for herself, so she had turned down invitations from both the swim team and the track and field team. Instead, she had become a collegiate wrestler and bodybuilder, splitting her efforts more or less equally between the two. By her sophomore year there wasn't a guy on the team that could consistently beat her. And as a senior, she was champion in the annual college bodybuilding contest.

So, she was glad to be as strong as an ox, and as powerful as a tractor. Megan had been mildly interested to learn from one of her former girlfriends – she felt she was bisexual, more or less straight down the middle – that she was a Taurus. She just had shrugged and accepted it, though, without much thought – her athleticism and musculature were the results of disciplined diet and hardcore heavy lifting, with carefully researched and tested training regimens. She had every reason to be proud of her body and what she'd done with it, without attributing her success to the stars!

Today she was going to hit a new high for deadlifts – 10lbs more than her previous record, for her one-rep max. She tightened the straps around the bar, gripping as hard as she could, and looked up in the mirror. She could see the lines of sculpted definition along her shoulders and arms, and her impressive forearm vascularity.

As she tightened every muscle in her body and lifted the weight off the ground, she could see her face and upper chest reddening, the muscles filling with blood, as the cords of sinew bulged on her neck. The teardrops on her thighs – all three of them – bulged, nice and big, as she slowly straightened her legs, completing the deadlift.

Oh yes, she was strong; she looked it, she knew it.

At the top of her lift, a loud and resounding grunt of triumph escaped from her lips.

"Ungh!"

"Geez, seriously? You sound like a cow in labor!"

She almost dropped the barbell with shock. As it was, she had to release it halfway down instead of setting it down properly. It landed with a loud rattle and clang.

"And you can't even set it down properly without so much noise! How brutish."

The voice was female – high-pitched, whiny, the accent redolent with hints of New England. Megan turned to stare at the rude heckler, her eyes wide with outrage, ready to deliver a piece of her mind.

The girl who had spoken so snidely was slim – tall, and slender, with hints of tone on her limbs and exposed midriff, but no more than could be usually seen on a typical "gym bunny", the kind who went to the gym in tight yoga pants to do nothing except make use of the treadmill (utterly useless and counter productive), the stepper (a bit less useless) and the bike machines (useless without the proper intensity, which gym-goers like her never had). On her face she wore an ugly sneer, accentuated by the bright-red lipstick she had on.

Makeup, in the gym! For a workout!

Against such an obvious flake, Megan's anger abated slightly. Against smaller, weaker people she didn't want to feel like a bully. She simply put her hands on her hips and said, "This, in case you hadn't noticed, is a gym, babe. If it's too loud for you, why don't you run back to your yoga room? Or better yet, your nursery!"

That should've been the end of that – few indeed were those who could face Megan full-on, with her rippling muscles and straight unwavering gaze, and not feel cowed. But this... snotty bitch just laughed shrilly. "Not just a noisy cow, but a rude, obnoxious one to boot! Really! And it wasn't even that much weight anyway!"

The other gym-goers were now looking over at their corner curiously. No one was close enough to make out all the words being heard, but the body language on display was obvious – this was an altercation. A gym was really no place for such a thing to happen.

For the umpteenth time Megan wished for the end of her membership here to arrive quickly. This was a commercial gym – the kind that serious lifters derided as a "foo-foo gym", but it did have decent power cages and enough weight plates around, and also nice showers. Megan had already signed up for a more hardcore gym elsewhere in town – she had been so glad when that place, with its giant tires and chains and ropes and salmon ladders, had finally opened for business – but in the meantime she still had two more months left on her membership. And in this kind of place... one tended to get people like this... this bitch.

She walked straight up to the other woman, who amazingly did not flinch, but still stood, casually confident, a smirk playing on her ruby lips. When they were almost chest to chest, Megan stopped, and locked eyes with her. The woman looked back fearlessly.

"Not that much weight, huh? I'd like to see you lift even a tenth of that," Megan said evenly. "And you'd better watch your mouth, or the management will have something to say about your behavior."

"The management," the woman drawled, "is more likely to take my side, my dear dumb cow. Go ahead, ask one of them over. They know me. Hey, Nate!" she called out, turning her head to catch the attention of one of the gym attendants.

Nate walked over cautiously, casting her a questioning gaze. "Yes, Nina? What's the matter?"

"This woman was causing a nuisance to other gym-goers, with her rude and unladylike grunting, and also with her loud setting down of the weights, which can cause damage to gym property!"

"Um... um, try to keep it down, please..." Nate mumbled in Megan's direction. As Megan looked on, open-mouthed, Nate shuffled off, mumbling something about his "pay grade".

"You see?" Nina said smugly. "Being a major shareholder has its perks."

Megan felt herself flushed with anger, but before she could decide what to do next, Nina stepped forward, just a smidgeon, but enough to press her left breast right up against Megan's right.

"Of course, if you're not happy about this, there is another way," she breathed.

Everyone in this section of the gym was looking their way now, even though the music being piped over the sound system drowned out their words. It wasn't every day you got to see two women, each a marvelous physical specimen in her own way, standing chest to chest like that.

Megan struggled to stay calm. "What way?"

"We have private rooms in this gym," Nina told her, lowering her gaze conspiratorially. "Let's settle this... like women. One on one, on the mat. In the nude... except for footwear. Shoes, boots, whatever. Winner makes loser her bitch."

The audacity of it – was this slip of a woman challenging her, Megan, the "Muscle Queen" of her college, to a wrestling match... with high stakes?

Megan let out a bark of laughter, in sheer disbelief. But Nina's countenance did not change. And more than anything, Megan suddenly realized, she wanted to see that smirk wiped off that face. She wanted to see that lipstick smeared all over those cheeks, as tears streamed from Nina's eyes while she moaned her apology.

The mere thought brought a rush of wetness to her pussy.

"You're on," she found herself saying. "Challenge accepted."

***

It was set for that very evening. Training for maximal lifting meant that muscle soreness would not be a problem for Megan. She was eager to get her hands on Nina and make her regret her insufferable smugness.

She had a light dinner, in preparation for the match, although she did not expect it to be very strenuous. Nina was probably thinking she had some kind of grappling training, maybe Brazilian jiujitsu or some such, and could humiliate Megan. Little did she know, of course, that Megan was no slouch herself, with her considerable wrestling skill. It was true that skill could beat weight and strength – if the bigger and stronger wrestler was relatively untrained, which Megan was most decidedly not.

Her lips curled with anticipation as she munched on her rye bread. What a pleasure it would be to subdue that arrogant bimbo, to feel her writhing helplessly in her grasp, to see the look in Nina's eyes as the realization set in that the evening would not go as she had planned. What delicious satisfaction that would be.

Apart from her gym shoes, she had her favorite pair of leather boots she wore often. She decided to wear those instead – since Nina had stipulated the match would be in the nude except for footwear, these boots would nicely showcase her bulging calves and also be a kinky statement of dominance.

"These boots aren't just made for walking, baby," she murmured as she slipped them on in the changing room. "They're made for pushing your bitch face into the mat as you submit!"

Wearing only her sports bra and her panties, Megan walked the short distance from the changing room to the reserved private room, and pushed the door open. She took one step into the room, and froze.

Nina was there – but so was someone else, someone who dwarfed both Nina and Megan by a full head. It was another woman – and what a woman!

The initial impression Megan got was of overwhelming muscularity – the woman had her arms crossed in front of her formidable chest, and her pectorals were like two round slabs of granite. She was even broader across the shoulders than Megan, and her arms were thicker. In fact, all round, she was bigger than Megan... in every way that mattered.

As the moments passed, Megan took in more of the woman's breathtaking physique. She wore her hair short, and her head rested upon the most solid set of trapezius muscles Megan had ever seen on another woman in real life. Megan had always been proud of her "boulder shoulders", but this woman had even larger and rounder ones. The woman's pink nipples could be seen right at the crook of her bent arms, and they sat on the modest mounds of her breasts, which rested in turn on pectorals that looked more like granite the longer Megan looked.

Her abdominal definition was perhaps slightly lower than Megan's, but she sported a ridged six-pack of round, solid lumps. She also had that coveted pelvic "V", and to either side of that were the most thunderous pair of "thunder thighs" Megan had ever seen. Again, Megan was stunned – she had thought her own leg muscles were impressive, and was justifiably proud of them, but this woman had her beat, for both quadriceps and... from this angle it was hard to tell, but probably hamstrings as well. And the diamond-hard calves bulged every bit as strongly as Megan's own.

And she, too, was wearing a pair of boots, the leather painted in red, blue and white.

"Finished ogling, Megan?" Nina snickered. She waved a hand at the impassive female behemoth next to her, and said, "Meet your opponent for tonight – Olga!"

Megan found her voice. "What... what is this? You said you were going to face me one on one!"

"Tsk, tsk. You need to clean out your ears, meathead. I didn't say you were going to face me – I said it would be a one on one match, with the winner taking the loser as a prize. Olga here is my friend and bodyguard – she handles all the physical stuff for me! Not that I couldn't myself, of course, but..." Nina put the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. "I'm having a bit of a headache, so it'll have to be Olga filling in for me. Not going to back out now, are you? I don't blame you, if you're feeling scared!"

Megan swallowed hard. Nina she had been prepared to face... but this... this ridiculous Russian juggernaut? And for the stakes specified?

She was on the verge of backing down... but then Olga stepped forward and uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on her hips. "You told me she would be a good challenge for me, Nina," she said, with a light trace of an accent, "but look at her. She's shaking in her boots."

Stung, Megan clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth. She stepped into the room, slammed the door shut behind her, and marched in all the way to stand directly in front of Olga. "If Nina's too much of a scared little bitch to face me herself, then fine," she said loudly. "I'm not scared of you one bit. I've taken down women like you before, and I'll do it again right now," she said softly, giving Olga a steely glare even though she was lying through her teeth – Olga was the single most intimidating opponent she had ever faced.

"Fine, then it's on!" Nina said, grinning wickedly. She, too, had stripped down to nothing but a pair of heels, and now she perched on top of a pile of exercise mats, dangling those heels at the ends of her feet. "Give me a good show, Olga... this one might give you a better challenge than the others!"

"I hope so," Olga said, her eyes glinting. She slowly drew her arms up and pulled them into a powerful flex. "Come, Megan. Show me what you've got."

Her mouth had gone dry at the sight of Olga's rippling torso, but Megan stripped off her tank-top and panties, flinging them to the side with a show of bravado. Her heart thudded as she stretched out a leg to the side and flexed in the classic double-biceps pose, face to face with Olga.

She had never felt this way before, this sense of an opponent's overwhelming presence. She remembered her college's bodybuilding contest finals, when it had come down to a posedown between her and one other girl, with impressive mass (but not as impressive symmetry). At one point during the posedown they had turned to each other and flexed as hard as they could, arms trembling with the effort, and Megan had exulted silently as she had held the other woman's gaze and seen the defeat in her opponent's eyes. Her superiority had been clear, and the other woman had known it. The judges had concurred.

Now, Megan found herself holding the other end of the stick. She was the one who was now clearly the inferior specimen... she, who had felt so proud to be bigger and stronger than just about every other woman, and almost three out of four men, in the gym...

The corners of Olga's mouth turned upwards, as she flicked her gaze from side to side, comparing Megan's arms with her own. Megan could not help doing the same. Never before had another woman been able to outflex her with superior biceps – rounder, thicker, stronger-looking.

She could not allow herself to be cowed by this, she thought desperately. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall!" she told herself. She still had the skills built up from wrestling stronger, heavier men on the college wrestling team – she'd just have to remember how she'd beaten them, and she'd be the one making this she-bear submit.

As for the facts that, firstly, she had won roughly half of those mixed matches with stronger and heavier men, and secondly, not a single one of them had been as huge as Olga... she shoved those to the back of her mind.

She was a competitor. She would find a way to win, even against such odds.

She had to... or she'd be utterly humiliated, in front of that haughty, sneering bitch Nina!

Dropping the pose and stepping back, Megan dropped down into a half-crouch. "Come on!" she shouted, flexing her fingers to limber them up. "Think you're so big, huh? Think you're tough? You're going down!"

"You'll be the one going down on her!" Nina jeered.

Olga dropped the pose as well, and held up her hands in an amateurish stance. "You will lose," she grated out, a cold smile playing about her features.

They were already only a couple of feet apart, so they only inched closer for a few seconds before they clashed, in a lockup, hands on each other's arms and shoulders.

Megan trembled all over, both from effort and from a sudden thrill of fear. Olga was... strong!

Her hand snaked to the back of Olga's head for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Olga followed suit. Megan braced herself, and pushed...

... and a moment later her world turned topsy-turvy as she flew backwards, landing on her butt in an ungainly heap.

The room filled with Nina's shrieks of gleeful laughter as Olga stepped backwards, looking grimly satisfied. Megan sat for a few moments, stunned. She had felt it – Olga had matched Megan's force with her own – and pushed Megan completely off-balance.

She scrambled to her feet, red-faced, heart racing. Such... dominating power!

Had she made a mistake, coming here tonight? She had been caught in a trap, for sure – what was to have been an easy conquest was clearly going to be far more of a challenge than she'd expected. But this... this amount of strength was just unreal.

No... it couldn't be, she told herself. She'd just been off-balance. Olga had gotten lucky. Fortunately she hadn't sprained anything, or sustained any other injury – she could try again, get Olga off-balance, use her muscular strength to apply a hold painful enough to make the larger woman submit. She could do it. She had the skills and the strength. She could do it.

They each inched forward again, hands held out. Megan yelled as once again she rushed at her opponent, and they met in a meaty smack of flesh on flesh.

Megan and Olga clutched at each other's bodies, groping for purchase. Soon their torsos were fully pressed together, chest to massively muscled chest, belly to belly, although with the size difference Olga's shoulders were above Megan's. Gripping each other's arms, they pushed.

Olga's fingers dug painfully into Megan's upper arms, with bruising force. Her grip strength felt unbelievable... just unbelievable. And as for her legs...

Megan was forced back one step, then another. She grunted, then groaned, as she pushed – to no avail. Olga was like a steamroller, a tank. Megan dug her heels in, but it was no use... she was pushed back yet another step, then yet another.

"Go Olga, go Olga," Nina chanted from the sidelines, sounding slightly out of breath, as the unequal pushing match turned increasingly one-sided. Megan turned her head to the side, resting her cheek against Olga's dishearteningly solid shoulder, and saw, to her shock and anger, that Nina was diddling herself where she sat.

The bitch... was getting off on the sight of Megan getting outmuscled.

And suddenly, Megan's foot landed on parquetted floor – she had been pushed off the mat, just a couple of feet away from the door. Had they stipulated a ring-out rule?

Megan had no time to contemplate that – Olga took a step back, and with a swivel of her thick, wide hips, she flung Megan bodily back into the center of the mat. Megan rolled over a few times on her side before she came to a stop, panting, on her hands and knees.

She was breathing hard and fast, as if she'd just run a 100-meter sprint. The blood rushed in her ears. Nina was laughing and clapping, and whooping with delight – and Olga, massive unmovable Olga, was moving in on her again, with slow but purposeful steps.

Megan found herself scrabbling back, on her hands and feet, for a few moments. She flushed, in chagrin, at her undignified display.

Her thoughts were wild. How could this be happening? How could she, the college wrestler, the bodybuilding champion, dominant alpha female in whichever gym she went... be scurrying in fear, like a rat, from an opponent?