Daughter, Lover, Superheroine Ch. 08

Then it became perceptible -- Vicky had gained the advantage, and pulled Cindy a little off-center.

A tiny advantage, but Vicky had drawn first blood, so to speak. And she knew it. She bared her teeth in a grin, and leaned forward, fixing her eyes intensely on their clasped hands.

Cindy arched her back and tilted her chin up slightly, straining to equalize and regain the center. But Vicky was pouring on the pressure, her sculpted deltoids and upper arm muscles flexing with manifest power, and soon her advantage had grown to a very discernible inch or so.

"Gnnn..." Cindy made a groaning noise of exertion through her clenched teeth. Her head bowed and turned to the side, Barbara's side. Her eyes opened, and held Barbara's, in wordless appeal.

Barbara gave her a tremulous smile. She opened her mouth to voice some encouragement.

But Vicky was looking at her too, glancing up and meeting Barbara's gaze, and in that gaze was mute appeal as well. Vicky's eyes were usually cold, hard and flinty -- but never with her, never with Barbara. With her, Vicky's eyes became... just like Cindy's: warm, open, with a liquid softness that bespoke deep love. Vicky, too, wanted her approval, her support... her love.

And that face... that sweating, straining, but smiling face... wasn't it that very same face that she loved so deeply, the face she kissed to sleep every night, the face she woke up to every morning, the face that had been nestled against her breast just minutes ago?

Cindy was her irreplaceable daughter, her own flesh and blood... but she couldn't speak against Vicky, not like this she couldn't.

So she bit her lip and watched, clenched fists resting on her trembling thighs.

***

The muscle match went on, with the occasional attempt to gain more ground or turn the tables with a hard jerk, but neither could outright overpower the other. It came down to a long, hard, grueling grind that took everything the girls had. A full ten minutes later, there was not a dry patch of skin on either of their bodies. A spidery web of veins now covered both arms prominently, from wrist to shoulder, and soon their upper chests would start showing the vascularity as well.

And Cindy had not managed to regain any significant ground. She was now halfway down.
"Give it up," Vicky gasped, through gritted teeth. "You can't win."

"No... never," Cindy managed to grunt.

Vicky took a deep breath. Then her whole body shook with a surge of effort. Cindy shook as well, as she braced to resist. Vicky's mouth opened, and croaked hoarsely with the exertion. This was echoed by Cindy soon enough, with her own guttural grunts.

And after a long, agonizing minute, Cindy was almost all the way down. Her hand trembled a few inches from defeat.

"I'm... stronger..." Vicky hissed through her teeth, her lips pulled up in a semblance of a grin.

"No..." Cindy could only gasp breathlessly in denial.

It was getting harder by the second to match Vicky's strength. Cindy knew her face was crimson and that the cords of her neck muscles were standing out rigidly. She knew that the sweat was dripping off her body and pooling below her, on the bench and on the floor. Vicky looked much the same way... except that Vicky was dominant, and winning.

Their foreheads had come together, and they were practically huffing and puffing onto each other's faces. And the biggest affront of all... was that Cindy could smell Barbara's milk with every expulsion of breath from Vicky's lips.

Tears came to her eyes, and were squeezed out of the sides of her eyelids, mixing with the sweat drops covering her face. It was a bit unfair, yet not enough that she could complain.

This was galling, terribly galling. Mom was watching her put her muscle up against Vicky, in a battle that had become more than just about establishing physical pecking order. Mom, beloved Mom, the love of her life, the woman who had made her everything she was... was seeing her lose.

And not just to anybody -- to a version of herself, who claimed to be better; and more, who had stopped just short of declaring her intention to supplant Cindy!

She was the single strongest person Cindy had faced off against so far... including Mom. Deep inside, Cindy knew that she had already surpassed her mother in physical ability. The diagnostic machine hadn't lied. She was stronger than Barbara now, in almost all ways -- power, endurance, dexterity, control. Perhaps Barbara could still hold up in a contest of pain tolerance, but Cindy had never felt much inclined to perform any such contest with her.

Still, she would always idolize Mom. In her heart, Barbara stood on a pedestal from which nobody could remove her, ever.

But Vicky was much stronger than Elena ever was, and Elena had not been a pushover, with her enhanced muscles. And Vicky was so dominant... so unrelenting in her output of force. With all the strength Cindy could channel into her arm... it felt as if Vicky could counter it with just a little more.

Just a little more... but enough.

She grimly held on for as long as she could. Every second was an agony-filled eternity. She could hold up the weight of a truck for hours, if need be, but it was taking all she had and then some to hold Vicky off.

Vicky tilted her face sideways, and leaned in even closer, until some of the sweat drops on her face were almost touching Cindy's. Their lips brushed together. Then, as Cindy finally felt her arm muscles give out, and Vicky pressed her hand into the hard surface of the reinforced bench, Vicky pursed her lips in a smooch, planting a kiss on Cindy's lips.

Vicky drew back, smirking, as Cindy closed her eyes and let the humiliation wash over her. That kiss of conquest, delivered in the moment of defeat...

She's earned her name well, she thought. I've just been conquered.

Battleborn 0, Conqueress 1.

***

She had lost. Cindy, her daughter, had been defeated.

Barbara felt yet another tremor run through her -- but this one was building up. Her aching loins clenched and unclenched spasmodically. She knew she was probably pooling -- the juices were leaking out of her pussy lips and onto the bench she was sitting on -- but she struggled to suppress the sensations. Her daughter had just been outmuscled by a rival -- this was not supposed to make Barbara climax!

But Vicky released Cindy's hand and turned to Barbara. In a flash, she was cupping Barbara around the waist with one hand, while the other pushed firmly against Barbara's all-too-ready pussy. Vicky glowed with her victory as her eager fingers slid easily, so easily, into Barbara's throbbing womanhood. Instantly, her juices were smeared all over Vicky's probing digits -- so much was flowing from her already, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

Cindy made as if to reach out and stop her rival -- but then she slumped over the bench, downcast. With a mother's intimate knowledge of her child, Barbara knew what was running through her daughter's mind: Cindy had lost, even if it was just the first round, and the prize belonged to the winner. She would not stop Vicky from claiming it. She accepted that this was the way of it.

Cindy was, if nothing else, a gallant competitor.

Meanwhile, Vicky's lips pressed insistently against Barbara's cheek, close to her mouth. And Barbara found that she could not turn aside or move away -- she could not reject this woman, no more than she could reject her own daughter. Her body was making no distinction.

Vicky's fingers were relentless, implacable, forceful. Barbara's eyes glazed over, and her vision went unfocused. She stiffened, for some long moments. Her lips parted.

Then she closed her eyes and shook in the throes of an irresistible orgasm, delivered by the woman who had just overpowered her daughter in a contest of strength. She shook and shuddered, and tried not to moan too loudly -- it felt unseemly, she wasn't reveling in her daughter's defeat, quite the opposite surely, she wasn't delighting in her daughter's humiliation, how could she possibly do that, she had wanted her darling to win, was this much pleasure wrong, it was too much, too much pleasure...

In Vicky's strong, confident arms, Barbara melted into an orgasmic puddle, moaning throatily, growing increasingly light-headed, until finally, mercifully, Vicky withdrew her fingers and planted a loving kiss on Barbara's lips.

***

Cindy was gripping the edge of the bench so hard that her knuckles were going white, and her fingers were beginning to leave some indents in the reinforced material.

Yet, she held herself back. She had lost -- she would be graceful and honorable in her defeat. Even if Vicky was, frankly, being a bitch about it.

As she looked on, blinking away angry tears, Vicky put her honey-drenched fingers into her mouth, making a great show of licking Mom's delectable juices off them with every sign of enjoyment. Then she cocked her right arm -- her strong, victorious right arm -- in a flex, and traced the lines of her muscle definition with those same cum-stained fingers, all while giving Cindy a suggestive, hooded gaze.

"It's like I said," she declared. "My way makes me stronger than you, Cindy." The peak of her veined biceps popped, underscoring her words. And Barbara was still quivering a little all over, with the after-tremors of her orgasm.

Cindy had mixed feelings about that.

She had wanted this for Mom, after all! She had been prepared to tussle with Vicky, to match muscles with her counterpart, to put on the sexiest, kinkiest show she had ever put on, for Mom's much-deserved thrill and titillation. And when she saw how expertly Vicky pressed all of Mom's buttons -- every bit as well as she herself could -- and the way Mom's body jerked and twitched with the afterglow of that intense orgasm...

She just wished, with all her heart, that she had been strong enough to win that round. Even before Cindy got her powers, Barbara had always been proud of Cindy's upper body strength, especially in her arms. She had just put so much of her pride on the line. It was just so, so galling to have lost like that.

Mom was looking at her now, shamefacedly -- she had to be feeling guilty at the little prize Vicky had just snatched for herself, the little thank-you she had just given Mom. Cindy looked back, her clear-eyed gaze devoid of judgment, and smiled as brightly as she could, wordlessly conveying that it was perfectly alright, that her beloved mother should simply lay back and enjoy anything she wanted to... even the sensual defeat of her daughter's muscles, at the hands of a stronger woman.

She set her jaw firmly with renewed resolve. This was not over -- this was just beginning. She held Vicky's arrogant stare unflinchingly, and cocked her head to the side, mutely indicating they should continue with the contest. Vicky nodded, still looking smug.

I'll squeeze that smug look off your face, even if it takes every ounce of strength I have! Cindy thought vengefully.

Together, they moved away from the bench, and reclined on the mat, preparing to adopt the necessary positions. Barbara now sat on the bench they had just vacated, lowering herself gingerly on still-shaky legs. Her inner thighs were slick, and a little of her cum was still trickling out of her vaginal slit, pooling beneath her. Barbara shifted visibly, trying to conceal it, but she couldn't entirely succeed.

Cindy's mouth watered at the sight. She could just about taste that familiar tangy nectar, and the mere thought filled her with yearning. However, between it and her lay Vicky's powerfully-muscled body -- literally. Vicky rested on her side, propping herself up on one elbow, and opened her thighs invitingly, mutely challenging Cindy to place her body into that fleshy muscular trap. Her abdomen rippled with her incredible musculature.

But Cindy knew her own torso was just as impressive. She would not let Vicky taste any more of her mother's love juices. She would make her twin submit, and then she would plaster her mouth to that glorious pussy, dripping with so much tasty goodness. She would give Mom the best oral sex she had ever given.

Her mouth had filled with saliva. She swallowed hard, and licked her lips. Vicky seemed to be in a similar state -- she was looking hungrily at Barbara too, and swallowing as well. This was going to be intensely painful and exhausting. Neither of them would give up until the very end, until one or the other absolutely had to.

They got into position, wrapping their legs firmly around each other's upper bodies, sliding their thighs against each other's sides just under the rib cage. They made sure to lock their ankles together. The amount of crushing force exerted would be enough to turn bowling balls into small fragments, or crack the bones of a Troll and pulverize his innards. Now, the marvelous leg strength they both possessed would be turned against each other.

Vicky smiled and ran a palm all over Cindy's generously-fleshed buttocks, caressing and squeezing. "Ready to lose again, sister? Ready to scream your submission?"

Refusing to be psyched out, Cindy reciprocated, digging her fingers into Vicky's shockingly firm glutes and hamstrings -- though Cindy endeavored not to show any sign of intimidation at the hardness of Vicky's muscle. "Mom's pussy is mine to lick, sister," she told her, softly. "I won't let you take it from me."

A strange look came into Vicky's eyes, and she tilted her head proudly. "That was the first time I've made Mother cum, with my own hands," she murmured. "And now I want more. You're not strong enough to stop me, Cindy, admit it."

"Put your muscle where your mouth is, then. Let's do this," Cindy said defiantly.

"Very well. Winner gets a proper taste of victory," Vicky replied, licking her lips lasciviously.

And they both smiled to see how Barbara blushed and fidgeted self-consciously, to hear herself talked about as an immensely desirable prize.

If nothing else, Cindy thought, all this would be worth it, just to know Mom was getting so much pleasure out of it.

"Mother? Would you do the honors?" Vicky asked coyly.

Barbara nodded and slowly leaned over, bending down to put one hand on each girl's thighs. They both shifted and wriggled in pleasure at her touch.

Vicky put up her right arm almost languorously, and flexed it, her muscles an emblem of her power and a reminder of the defeat she had just dealt Cindy. Cindy gritted her teeth, and flexed her arm right back at her rival. Their flexed arms would be a visible indicator of dominance, during this contest.

"Ready?" Barbara's voice was still shaky, as she prepared to start them off.

"Ready, Mom!"

"Ready, Mother!"

Barbara took her hands off their thighs, and the pain began.

Such pain! After only a few moments, Cindy knew this was the hardest her torso had ever been squeezed. She began to twitch, as the spasms of pain began. Vicky's inner thighs were like big cords of steel biting into her flesh. Her body began shaking with the sheer effort it was taking just to tense her muscles sufficiently to resist. Her flexed arm showed it the most obviously -- it was only a point of pride to keep it flexed, when her opponent was doing it, but with the way it was shaking, Cindy was sure that it was making her agony more obvious.

Meanwhile, she did her utmost to pay Vicky back with every ounce of leg strength she could dredge up. She squeezed and squeezed, as hard as she had ever squeezed. Her ankles were locked together, as were Vicky's, for more leverage.

She had trained with steel drums, concrete blocks and bowling balls. Vicky's midriff... was tougher than any of those. Much, much tougher.

She could see that she was inflicting some damage, making Vicky hiss and gasp with pain... but as the long minutes went past, each moment an arduous aeon of agony, she began to wonder desperately if she was dishing out as much pain as Vicky was dealing her.

Sweat beaded both of their faces, and flowed over their bodies in rivulets down the crevices of their muscles, but Vicky's right arm still stayed firmly, authoritatively flexed, the bulging mound a visible marker of her might.

Cindy knew that in comparison, she was struggling much harder, just to keep up. When she glanced up at Mom, she could see the concern in those loving, compassionate eyes. That was one way she could gauge how well she was doing, against an opponent -- the deeper the anxiety in Barbara's eyes, the worse she was faring.

Going by that, she was in deep trouble.

Their gasping and grunting grew louder, as their breath grew shorter -- the constriction around their waists prevented either of them from drawing a full breath, on top of the internal trauma slowly building up.

Then a long, ragged moan escaped Cindy's lips, as she felt her torso muscles beginning to give way to Vicky's crushing pressure, and she knew she was beginning to lose.

Vicky knew it too -- a strained smile played on her lips, and she redoubled her efforts.

This was the merciless nature of this particular contest -- as one of them began to weaken, the other superheroine's advantage would only grow and grow. With less and less oxygen, and more and more pain, Cindy would find it harder and harder to focus her leg strength and turn the tables on her twin.

Vicky drew a long, deep, shuddering breath -- a breath Cindy was unable to stop her from taking, no matter how hard she tried to flex her legs, to stop Vicky's diaphragm from expanding, to keep the air out of her rival's lungs. Then Vicky gave vent to a long, loud grunt of effort, as her leg muscles convulsed.

Cindy choked, and coughed. Her flexed arm faltered, and almost went limp. She slumped, as her vision blurred for a few moments.

She blinked hard several times, blinking the tears away. Her vision still swam -- Vicky was not letting up. Barbara had half-risen from her seat, her face a mask of frantic concern.

If she didn't rally quickly, her mom was liable to call it for Vicky, to throw in the figurative towel. She had to pre-empt that. She couldn't let that happen.

Cindy gritted her teeth, tried to quell the shaking throughout her body -- she was quite unsuccessful -- and propped herself up on her left arm again. Summoning every bit of strength and resolve she had remaining, she lifted her right arm again, and pumped it in the hardest flex she could manage.

Her trembling legs were already flexed as hard as they could go, but she willed more power into them anyway, clenching her thighs as if her life... or Mom's life... depended on it.

She couldn't draw a full lungful of air. The pain made it hard to even breathe. It felt as if her ribs would be bruised. And Vicky still looked so dishearteningly strong and dominant, so confident, straining but not half-fainting... whereas Cindy was sure her face was crimson and her lips were flecked with spittle, and she knew the tears were streaming out of the corners of her eyes and down her sweat-streaked cheeks.

She blinked the tears and sweat away, squeezing them out of the corners of her eyes. Then she noticed that Barbara looked as if she was about to speak, to call the match, like she'd said she would.

"Mom," she gasped, hoarsely. "No!"

***

No mother could willingly sit by and watch her child suffer. This was a truism, a fact of life, practically an immutable law of the universe. Any exceptions to the case were, of course, not true mothers.

It had been so hard, so fantastically hard, to stand by and watch Cindy's duel with Elena, the one in which her lower face had become a grisly mask of blood, and in which her joints and tendons had been tortured almost to breaking point by her vicious, sadistic opponent.

Now, it was almost as hard to see what Cindy was being put through. Vicky's tremendous, thunderously strong thighs were a vise, a clamp, slowly mashing Cindy's midriff to a pulp. Cindy's face was a rictus of agony and effort. There was not a patch of dry skin anywhere on her body, which was shaking so violently that she was practically convulsing. She could no longer keep that marvelous right arm of hers bravely flexed, even -- Vicky was doing it, but Cindy was unable to keep up. She had no energy left to spare on such posturing.