THE SUPER-STRENGTH SHOWDOWN
challenge 2: the thighmaster
As the super girls were guided to the next area, their luscious physiques exhibited a noticeable pump. Only one challenge in, their muscles were substantially larger and more defined. Their already vascular bodies were far veinier than before, with wormy wads snaking across their masculine arms and pressing through their costumes.
The women arrived before what looked like three oversized wrecking balls – huge iron spheres each two stories tall. The heroines were informed that the humongous objects were forged from molecularly-reinforced lead and weighted approximately 50 tons each, a mighty challenge for any super heroine to press. But the girls weren't tasked with lifting the balls but rather crushing the massive spheres between their powerful thighs. The fastest to shatter the core of their spheres, registered by a network of nanite sensors deep in the superstructure, would get a point.
Fairchild was hesitant to begin, embarrassed by the notion of spreading her legs before the eyes of the world. Why the hell did her costume have to be a slutty dental-floss thong? Wonder Woman had no such hesitations and lay down on her back, legs wide open in a perverted spread eagle. A hush fell over the crowd, perhaps the entire planet as every eyeball and camera lens focused on the heart-stopping slip of micro-underwear stretched taunt across her juicy sex. The tiny width of bikini bottom material left her swollen pussy lips bulging out on either side. Even more shocking were the muscles packed between her legs - as hard and numerous as any other part of her body.
The other heroines joined her in position and opened their legs wide, their hot pussies offered up to the world. It was an astonishing sight, the fantasy of every super villain who ever dreamt of capturing a beautiful heroine and having his way with her.
As Fairchild wrapped her legs around her sphere, her slutty thong dug deep into her vagina. She could feel it splitting her open, forcing her fat, wet lips apart. The audience couldn't believe it - she really was 100% pure muscle everywhere. Even the folds of her vagina were visibly striated, rippling with her movements. What the hell kind of training was she doing - crushing iron dildos for reps? Veins from all over her legs converged in the steroid orgy that was her perfectly shaved snatch.
She-Hulk's crotch was just as muscular and even more vascular. Her sexual organs were a furious mishmash veiny sex-beef capable of crushing concrete. The lips of her vagina looked like flexing biceps.
The women each gripped a set of steel hand-holds bolted to the floor. Definition flared across their huge thighs as they prepared themselves. Their faces were concentrated and focused.
The signal was given and it began. Grunts escaped their lips as they squeezed with all of their might, the 3 iron spheres groaning loudly. At first little happened. The spheres were even tougher than they looked. Clearly Luthor had built them to last.
Wonder Woman flared her teeth, her generous lips rolling back and her golden brow wrinkling. Ugly veins popped from her forehead as she ramped up the effort. Her iron sphere snapped, crackled and popped like a 50-ton bowl of Rice Krispies - the effort inflating the Amazon's straining physique like a big-titted balloon. Her thighs quickly doubled in size, the craggy, pulsing muscles in her legs simultaneously shrinking and expanding. As her crotch muscles flared, her underwear was forced tighter and thinner, digging an inch into her sex like a g-string razorblade.
She-Hulk wasn't about to lose this one. With a bassy roar, she threw her head back and squeezed with all her might. Her neck ballooned to twice the thickness of her head and merged indistinguishably with her gorilla traps. Her large breasts were hoisted high into the sky by the massively swelling pecs they were bolted to.
The sphere between She-Hulk's humongous thighs cracked suddenly, the noise like a shockwave across the arena. But it wasn't enough - the core remained intact.
Fairchild's heart was pounding. She was filling with fear and dread. She was going to lose! She was pathetic and weak! Yet deep down, a part of her was getting excited, turned-on even. She was proud of the body she had forged. She’d spent every waking hour of the last eight months in the triple gravity gym, dedicated to pumping herself to the max, making herself as huge as possible. Some nights she looked at her body in the mirror and didn't even recognize the rippling she-stud staring back at her. It was her dirty, lustful dream to be the beefiest Hercules of them all - a freakish, androgynous muscleman with the strength of a thousand super heroines. It was time to put her shyness and humiliation aside and show them what real muscles looked like.
Fairchild closed her eyes and grunted softly. Her sensual lips quivered. Veins tore through her temples. It felt like torture, needles of pain stabbing her body, but the effect was jaw-dropping. Her entire physique was suddenly shot full of adrenaline. Every part of her began to transform, grow and morph into a some steroid-injected version of herself. Her shoulders erupted, widening and doubling in size, vascularity surging uncontrollably. Her huge breasts were pushed aside by mammoth pecs growing like continents, grossly out of place on a beautiful girl’s body.
The other women didn't notice Fairchild’s strides until her sphere suddenly cracked with the force of a sonic boom. In one shot she jumped to the lead. If she could keep up the pressure, she might actually win the challenge.
Wonder Woman tightened her fists squeezing every muscle in her body into a furious state of flexation. Screaming vascularity exploded through her arms and legs dropping jaws around the world. Everyone knew Wonder Woman was beefcake - she'd been on the cover of a thousand bodybuilding magazines, done sexy calendars, even posed for Playboy. She possessed one of the most muscular physiques in the world. But no one had ever seen her push herself like this. She was going nuclear, pumping herself up into an insane state of hyper-muscularity impossible for an ordinary woman.
Wonder Woman's sphere cracked in 3 more places, the booming shockwave shaking the arena to the foundation. Spectators were knocked off their feet spilling drinks and hotdogs.
She-Hulk screamed in savage defiance. Her neck flared even wider, looking like it could swallow her head. Her pecs flexed so hard that they pressed against her chin. Her giant tits rolled into her armpits like useless, floppy jelly orbs.
The cracks in She-Hulk's sphere deepened rapidly. Her astonishingly shredded mega-thighs were car crushers squeezing the life out the giant lead ball.
But Wonder Woman would not be beaten - not by this green-skinned slut, not by a big-titted teenager, not by anybody. She released her hands and slammed her fingers into the concrete ground, digging them an inch into the Earth.
"Hera, give me strength!" She screamed, eyes bugging wildly. She crunched her abs, producing out an alien 12 pack that defied description. With a deafening shriek, the sphere collapsed in on itself as if pulled tight by a giant belt. The core shattered with megaton force, tearing up concrete in a wide circle around it. The senor signalled the end of the round. Wonder Woman was victorious for the second time.
The crowd went crazy. Odds updated on all the view screens, shooting Wonder Woman’s stats through the roof and dropping She-Hulk and Fairchild’s chances substantially.
Wonder Woman got to her feet, her quivering thighs absolutely dominated by a spider web of screaming arterial veins. She was dripping sweat, her slutty costume soaked through and partly transparent. Her gorgeous, tanned skin glistened like gold, amplifying her sadistic, eyeball-melting definition. As she stood proudly before the crowd - her chest heaving from the monumental exertion - her ridiculous melons threatened to blow apart her bustier. Her hugely enraged man-pecs added meaty inches to her already preposterous bust line. It was abundantly clear that her physique was no longer that of Ms. Olympia but now a behemoth Mr. Olympia with tits. She was a beefcake wet dream come to life.
Fairchild and She-Hulk got up slowly behind her. They were equally sweaty and pumped, their costumes packed to the limit with swollen muscle meat. Neither said a word but their worried faces spoke volumes. The contest might be over a lot sooner than they expected.