Tuesday, August 9, 2011


challenge 3: cruise control 
            The champions were teleported from Luthor’s stadium to the vast expanse of the Utah salt flats.  They appeared in the sweltering, sun-baked desert a hundred miles from civilization. 
            The three beefcake super girls found a base camp of cameras and monitors waiting for them.  They also found three huge ships resting in the sand – an oil tanker, a cruise ship and an aircraft carrier.  Each ship’s 32-ton anchor was laid out in front of it with a humongous chain leading back to the vessel itself.  The individual links were so large that they weighted over a ton by themselves and were taller than the heroines.  The ships themselves were estimated at 500 tons each and had been gutted and filled with concrete, adding another 400 tons.  The total weight of each ship rounded out at well over 1000 tons a piece.
            As the women gazed up at the towering vessels, dwarfed by their sheer immensity - the next challenge was laid upon them.  Their task was to use the anchor chains to drag each ship to a finish line exactly one mile away.  The first heroine to cross the finish line would score a point.   
            Not a word was uttered as the muscle-bound sexpots took their places.  Both She-Hulk and Fairchild knew that Wonder Woman was playing for keeps now - her strength and focus had been staggering so far.  Another victory and she won the competition.  It was make it or break it time.
            Each woman hoisted their gigantic iron anchor off the ground, itself an feat of brute strength.  Outrageous, vein-stuffed definition screamed across beastly thighs and planetoid calves.  Fairchild tried to hide it but the simple act of lifting the anchor onto her linebacker shoulders was a monumental effort.  She looked over at Wonder Woman, who in spite of being considerably less muscular remained perfectly stone-faced - the anchor held aloft above her erotic body with machine-like precision.  To her left, She-Hulk seemed to get off on the challenge.  She licked her green lips and lightly curled the immense weight, causing heaving worms of wormy veinage to snake across her straining skin. 
            Doubt struck the red-haired heroine like a knife in the gut.  Maybe Luthor's calculations were right - maybe she was out of her league.  All the work she'd done to build her body - the sweating, crying, screaming workouts and still the others noticeably outclassed her      
            Helicopters circled the sky above capturing the amazing scene in high definition.  On the ground, the tension was as stifling as the heat.  Sweat ran down the heroines' muscleman curves.  Vascularity throbbed and snarled, engorging their muscles with liquid testosterone.  The first two events had pumped-up their physiques in an all-out skin-stretching frenzy turning the single-minded girl-stallions into bronzy steroid supermen fitted with ridiculous bolt-on stripper tits. 
            She-Hulk remained the biggest of the three champions - her unrelenting monster-mass substantially increasing with each challenge.  In two short rounds she'd doubled her measurements, grown the endless width of her back and blown past even the biggest, most freakishly ripped Mr. Olympia. 
            Fairchild was nearly as muscle-stuffed, a remarkable feat given her junior status.  Even Wonder Woman, with her incredible tits and steel hard ass was fast taking on the blocky and brutish swagger of a juiced-up, heavyweight he-man. 
            In simple terms, the world had never witnessed heroines as ferociously muscled as Luthor's three champions.  The lone exception was notorious jewel thief the Black Cat - the progenitor of extreme super heroine bodybuilding who only a few years earlier, in a bid to go straight and become a do-gooder herself had begun injecting outrageous quantities of steroids.  In 18 months she transformed herself into an almost unrecognizable mountain of androgynous monster-muscle.  The media proclaimed her the most muscular human being alive after she famously out-flexed the entire Avengers team on the front page of the Daily Bugle.  Since then she'd ignited a public phenomenon, single-handedly dragging the muscle-fetish scene into the mainstream and inspiring the world's most powerful heroines to meet the potential of their own bulging bodies.   
            A single, sharp signal commenced the third challenge.  All three women immediately charged forward, the train-length chains lifting form the sand behind them.  With a booming "snap" the links went taught and the heroines stopped flat.  Shrieking metal cut the air as the thousand-ton ships stubbornly fought their efforts.
            The girls struggled with their anchors like beautiful, busty mules.  Wonder Woman stomped her feet, cracking the ground beneath her and poured on the power.  Her upper body flexed like a prized thoroughbred, outrageous definition erupting through her melon-sized shoulders and overflowing into her tit-covered chest.  She threw her head about, wet hair and sweat flying.  Through pure, indomitable will, the aircraft carrier began to move, grinding against the earth like a giant plough.  It was an impossible sight - an ant pulling a parked car.
            The fury of seeing Wonder Woman advance injected She-Hulk with added strength.  Rage was She-Hulk’s secret weapon and she was ready to let loose with both barrels.  She grit her teeth, veins flaring up her neck and forehead and fought the chain with all of her might.  Muscles surged all over her body – thighs inflating – shoulders and lats mutating wildly.  Slowly, the cruise ship began to move.
Fairchild was still struggling with her oil tanker.  Her shoulders were burning beneath the crushing weight of the anchor.  The huge links of the chain added so much weight that she felt like she was being ground into the dirt.  The sun blasted like a heat ray.  Her face was pouring sweat, her hair soaked, her costume becoming sticky, transparent cling-wrap.   
Two minutes after starting, Fairchild was still at the starting line.  Wonder Woman and She-Hulk were way ahead, busy dragging their torturous burdens one step at a time.  Audiences around the world watched with baited breath, uncertain if Fairchild was capable of even moving the ship let alone dragging it a mile.  She could almost feel their eyes judging her, the shame and humiliation of failing in front of the entire world.  She dropped to one knee.  The anchor was so God damn heavy.  She felt like it was going to snap her in half.   
Fairchild glanced through teary eyes.  She could see the back of the other ships now.  She HAD to do something.  Slowly, images of the Black Cat filled her mind.  She thought back to that famous front page pose down against the Avengers and the unquenchable lust she had felt for Felicia Hardy's impossible steroid physique.  She had spent months jerking off to that picture, lusting over the Cat's 40 inch arms, her chiselled, TV-sized pecs and pumpkin shoulders.  It was the Black Cat's audacious hyper-muscularity that had driven Fairchild into the gym.  Her only desire became to unleash her own potential - every bulging inch of it, whether the world was ready for it or not.
 Letting lose an animal roar, Fairchild flexed with all of her might.  Her costume screamed beneath multiplying industrial man-muscles.  Stitches gave out as Fairchild’s gigantic back swelled, her lats spreading like meaty dragon wings and consuming every bit of space between her two burly arms.  The back of her costume suddenly tore open - wet, bronzy, vein-packed teen beef exploding everywhere. 
The anchor lifted up as Fairchild rose to her feet.  Her face continued to tighten – deep wrinkles twisting her delicate features, focused willpower fuelling her harrowing, Frankenstein transformation.  Teeth clenched, lips pencil thin, Fairchild forced the oil tanker forward.  It groaned loudly, desperate to fight her.  She whined and fought harder – horrible capillaries tearing through her face – her over-taxed features twisted and tortured.  Biceps swelled absurdly, stretched out like deformed basketballs.  Her sleeves suddenly surrendered and blew open.  Her sweaty bronze flesh pulsated with might, a thousand arteries furiously engorged.
The oil tanker began to move, mountains of sand pushed aside as it dragged ahead.  One freakishly huge thigh after another, Fairchild fought her way forward.  Every step was agony, but the pain was rocket fuel.  Tears mixed with sweat, coating her beastly, vein-wrapped neck and bull traps 
Ahead of her, the other women were struggling under the burning sun.  Wonder Woman dropped several times, the anchor flattening her beefy shoulders as the challenge nearly overwhelmed her.  Each time, She-Hulk shrank the gap between them.  The jade giantess was increasingly motivated by Wonder Woman’s weakness – her strength seeming to grow as the Amazon’s wavered.  She-Hulk could feel her blood boiling.  She was swelling at a rapid pace – throbbing blue veins pumping gamma growth hormones straight into her muscles.  Her costume fought to contain her lunatic physique but something was going to give.  Even her own green skin began to shriek as each ground-shaking step inflated her grotesque dimensions further.
Behind them, She-Hulk and Wonder Woman heard a noise.  Glancing back, they were shocked to see Caitlin Fairchild stomping towards them like a big-titted bulldozer.  She was moving at a near jog, her tiny red face nearly consumed by an indescribable orgy of nightmarish muscles.  Within seconds, Fairchild passed them both, showing absolutely no sign of slowing down.  
Wonder Woman's warrior spirit ignited with fury.  She would not be beaten by some chesty teenaged bodybuilder.  The Amazon tightened her grip on the huge iron anchor and flared her furiously clenched teeth.  She released a bloodcurdling roar that rattled the choppers pilots tracking the scene above her.  Wonder Woman's incredible physique responded like it was injected with growth serum - thighs swelling severely, shoulders mutating.  Her back strained and spasmed as the cobra hood flare of her lats reached out - a heaving, meaty muscle claw shaking with power.  Striations cut through her shoulder blades, tore across her chest and almost cut her tits off.  Her massive melons were pushed so far astray off her ballooning pecs that her bustier was the only thing from keeping them out of her armpits.   
Somehow she managed to match Fairchild's rabid pace.  Like a grunting, raging princess of power, Wonder Woman charged after the redhead, the dead weight of her thousand ton aircraft carrier grinding the Earth behind her.
Now in third, She-Hulk's fury bubbled over.  The world watched with confusion as she stopped suddenly and dropped her anchor in the sand.  The notion that she had thrown in the towel was quickly dashed as she ran back to the rear of her ship and took up a new position directly behind it.  She placed her hands at the base of the ten storey hull and planted her feet in the sand.  Jaws dropped at the sight of her calves - each a full-sized watermelon.  Her thighs were tendon-shredded washing machines. 
Tossing her sticky hair back, She-Hulk screamed to the heavens and pressed with her full might, splitting her forehead with fat, gnarly veinage.  Ship metal moaned as the gargantuan cruise ship moved forward, at first by mere inches. 
From the rear, the gorgeous green beefcake was simply an unrecognizable mass of meat-packed lat-beef.  Her all consuming back devoured everything between her head and shoulders, growing by inches every second that her effort called for it.
With agonizing will, She-Hulk picked up speed – her footsteps shaking the ground and soaking the sand with buckets of sweat.  Her costume was stretched so tightly across her gorilla dimensions that her razor blade thong threatened to cut her in half.  It had already vanished deep into her ass crack leaving her sickeningly striated beef-ball glutes flexing nakedly.
It was down to the wire with all three heroines closing in on the finish line.  After what seemed like an eternity, the goal was in sight.  Erotic cries could be heard for miles echoing across the burning landscape.  Their resolve was incredible.  They would die before they’d give up.
Wonder Woman had managed to close the gap with Fairchild but the Amazon was starting to slow down, her boundless endurance rapidly burning out.  Still she fought, her face twisted and purple - her horrifically straining vacsularity pumping battery acid. 
With half of her costume split open by her preposterous muscle expansion, Fairchild looked every bit the champion.  She would not stop – managing to maintain her impossible pace in spite of her overwhelming exhaustion.
It looked as if Fairchild would take it with the finish line less than 50 feet away when suddenly, She-Hulk turned the tables.  Moving at a full-speed run, the green-skinned muscle-freak was a runaway freight train determined to overtake the others.  She-Hulk herself was but a tiny spec in a cloud of swirling sand kicked up behind the tanker - a nightmarishly muscled she-man singlehandedly moving one of the largest man-made objects in the world. 
Fairchild knew she had to pour it on, max out and push herself to the breaking point.  Somehow, the disgustingly super-muscled he-teen flexed even harder, screaming like a banshee and pouring every single ounce of her dick-withering super-strength into her effort.  Her gigantic, medicine ball shoulders went nuclear, blowing her tattered costume to shreds.  Her giant tits bounced around like hyperactive balloons, their heavy, naked masses slapping her chin and belly button.   She didn’t care that she was now a sopping wet, topless muscle freak – she HAD to win.
A laser marker was triggered as one of the ships crossed the finish line a hair ahead of the others.  It took over 200 feet for the three heroines to slow down, their ships’ hulls red hot from the friction. 
The women collapsed to the sand, violently dry heaving, sobbing in agony.  Fairchild gazed at the heavens while her every muscle involuntarily twitched.   Through ringing ears she heard an announcement broadcast across nearby loudspeakers.
“The winner of the third challenge – Caitlin Fairchild!”
          She managed a tiny smile.