Hugfest

by Belial  

Robin moves well for a big girl, circling left with just the hint of a jiggle around her full thighs and rear. She looks great tonight, wearing a pale green beach volleyball 2 piece she bought both for co-rec games at the club, and for this, her special 'hobby'. The supportive material cuts tight against her flesh - Robin is built smooth and big, but not fat - the suit is perfect for her. She brushes errant strands of strawberry blonde hair, cut in the ubiquitous short corporate bob, behind either ear. She's nervous, but her clear blue eyes radiate concentration and intelligence. At 5'7" she's got height (a good 5 inches) and weight (as much as 20 pounds) on her opponent, but these advantages are of little comfort to the young blonde. She's facing Michelle Swan tonight and Michelle Swan is to bearhugging what Michael Jordan is to basketball. Robin is intimidated.

Michelle snaps her red trunk bottoms tight around her high, perfect buttocks, then leans forward again, menacing Robin with the feint, measuring the blonde's reactions. Michelle wears a black Everlast jogbra to compliment the speedos, and she is a marked contrast in physicality to her young opponent. Swan is a former 2 time All American NCAA gymnastics champion with trim, proportionately long legs, and terrific upperbody development. Men will often do comical doubletakes when they see Michelle on the street - she's not bodybuilder big, but her broad, thick shoulders and biceps, combined with perfect, straight backed posture always command attention. Though she lives in Santa Monica now, Michelle is pale in complexion, downplaying the muscular relief a tan would have given her. Her chalky blocked out abs, and tight squared off hips reveal a very low body fat ratio: she has worked hard on her body all her life, and it has taken care of her well. Michelle is 30 years old, and doesn't seem a day over twenty. She wears her medium length black hair in a youthful ponytail - a holdover from her college days. Her face is much more classically beautiful than Robin's, with an intensity the youngster can't match, but the MetWest crowd is divided in it's loyalties. Robin is someone you cheer for. Michelle is someone you respect.

They've taken two very different roads to meet here, in this warm, bare room, on the third floor of the apartments belonging to the Metropolitan Club's west coast affiliate. Robin plays volleyball twice a week at the club where her company has a group membership, and it was there that a friend introduced her to the obscure sport of bearhugging. Soon, the two formed a close-knit group of associates, and indulged themselves in this pastime whenever time permitted. Something clicked in Robin - she developed a true passion for these crushing brawls, and she quickly distinguished herself amongst her friends as the one to beat. Trouble was, you can only wrestle your friends so often before the action is contaminated by the friendship - that is - Robyn felt compelled to throw the odd match just to keep everybody happy. She began to lose interest in the sport when it became apparent that she could beat these people anytime, everytime, at will. The Thrill, was gone.

And then the Met showed Robin a door she had not even known existed.

Under the auspices of MetWest, Robyn met and competed against women from the Seattle/Vancouver area. She scored several upset victories against club regulars, including a spectacular bout against highly respected Jenny. Jenny, a well armed brunette who always fought in pink bra and panties, panicked when Robin wouldn't quit after a one sided clamping and submitted after Robins' first offensive series. Karen, another veteran, extended Robin to her limits and beyond, but again, the exuberant blonde gutted it out. Members at the club loved Robin's fresh-faced enthusiasm and all out effort, but the match- making committee recognized that she needed an opponent who would test more than her heart and limbs. It was time for Robin to step up, maybe too far up, in order to go to the next level. The committee was pleased, and somewhat surprised when Michelle accepted - she had nothing to gain from fighting a no- name, and aside from travel and expenses, she hadn't even asked for her usual appearance fee. "I was going to watch the Mariners this weekend anyway," Michelle had said. She knew the club had box seats. She didn't even have to ask.

Robyn is smart to extend her long arms, palming up on Michelle's shoulders, keeping the little juggernaut well away from her body. She can feel the power rippling through the brunette's body, and Michelle pushes into Robin's hands, keeping her own hands low, almost at her knees. There is no comparing the agility or form of these two women: Robin is still at best a gifted amateur; Michelle has made her living fighting other women since her early twenties. She can box, wrestle, fight Muay Thai, body blow, and of course bearhug. And right now she's testing Robin in ways the blonde doesn't even suspect. Their eyes lock, and in that moment, Michelle steals the initiative. She can tell Robin has no intention of making the first move.

Fluidly, calmly, Michelle pushes up underneath Robin's left arm right at the joint, the point of leverage making it possible to swing the bigger girl's arm up over her head, exposing her side for the split second it takes for Michelle to cinch her up from behind. There is a smattering of applause from the darkness around the edges of the room where MetWest members sit at formal tables, enjoying the spectacle. Robin gasps - she's never felt this kind of power, never been hurt just from the lock up before. There is a futon in the center of the carpeted fighting floor, over against the far wall, and Michelle maneuvers the blonde with a perfectly balanced gut-wrench in that direction, drawing a shout of pain from Robin in the process. The cream colored sheets on the bed are stark against the dark oak paneling of the walls and the rich burgundy carpet along the floor. Michelle drives Robin to the bed, letting her legs go limp in order to focus her energy on her arms and chest. She is like a pit bull, clamping its jaws onto a tough length of rope and hanging in mid-air by its teeth. She works the hold in underneath Robin's rib cage as the blonde grips at her forearms. Robin's pretty face is marred by a grimace as she struggles to draw breath, and her gasping provides an eerie backdrop for the otherwise silent room. Incredibly, she's already seeing spots.

Suddenly, Michelle releases Robin, bounces off the bed, snaps her trunks back into line and does a few giant circles with her arms to keep them loose. Robin looks up from the futon in bewilderment. She had me, she thinks to herself. Michelle assumes a ready position, gently shaking out her hands, waiting for Robin to rise.

Cautiously, Robin stands, and almost before she can react, Michelle is on her and driving her back onto the bed. This time, the brunette has the blonde up high, belly to belly, her chin resting in the nook between Robin's cheek and shoulder. Robin lightly hugs Michelle outside her arms, but this is useless. Again, Michelle squeezes for perhaps half a minute, then pushes herself up off the blonde, establishing a pattern that will predominate for the rest of the bout. The fact is, that from a standing start, Robin can't compete with Michelle's athleticism. Time and time again, Michelle scoops Robin and drives her to the carpet or futon, freeing her after ever increasing durations, and standing to start again. Michelle attacks Robin's body from all angles - in front, behind, beneath on the ground, belly grinding Robin's face on top - The blonde is completely disoriented by this relentless assault. Robin is game, she is responding to the challenge, but behind her eyes, a dull sense of doom is growing. Only her inexperience prevents her from realizing that she is beaten.

Michelle drives Robin to the futon belly to belly. The girls are glistening in the soft overhead light, slick with sweat. Robin's short hair clings in wet clumps to her face, obscuring her eyes as her mouth pouts in pain. Michelle rests her head upon Robin's chest, feeling the beat of her opponent's heart against her skin. The hint of a smile creeps across Michelle's thin lips

Michelle drives Robin to the futon belly to belly. She is unhappy with her grip and stands, reaching down to Robin's trunks to pull the girl's hips up off the bed by the waistband, and re-clamps the hold around Robin's midriff. Robin moans, staring up into the ceiling as she desperately pushes down on Michelle's shoulders. A tremble of fear writhes across Robin's belly, and Michelle intensifies her grip

Michelle applies the "Clamp Suzanne" to Robin, so named for the Mexican beauty who first employed it. Robin sits on the floor, arms limp at her side, her thick biceps pudging out against Michelle's hard arms. Robin's head lolls back onto her tormentress' shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as the brunette, seated on her haunches, crushes the blonde's firm breasts from behind. Out of this posture, it is possible to push Robin forward between her legs, riding her from up top, and collapsing her lungs in upon themselves. Michelle's cobalt eyes glitter with intensity as she pumps away on her opponent

Robin, stupid with pain, staggers around the fight floor, clearly suffering oxygen debt, her once-strong legs quivering, weaving uncertainly. Robin is slightly knock-kneed, and the effect is exaggerated as she wanders, her knee flexing back, buttock bulging as she shifts weight. Michelle stalks her from behind, pulling Robin close by her top or her trunks. She's showboating now, pouring it on. In the clinches, she whispers directly into Robin's ears, working on the girl's psyche as well as her body. More than one member would give a small fortune to be able to hear those sweet taunts, but in a way, they are too intimate to be shared

Robin lies on her belly. Michelle, standing, straddling the blonde, reaches down and tugs at the back of Robin's trunks with a mighty heave, pulling the deadweight first to her knees, then almost entirely off the ground to apply a hug at the waist. Robust applause breaks out at this impressive show of strength

Robin scores her first hug of the bout after almost 15 minutes. Its workmanlike, a beefy belly to belly, and Robin lifts the smaller girl to her toes with the first pump. For a brief moment, Robyn is filled with hope as her rounded arms press in tight around the wide rib cage of her opponent. The moment is fleeting however as it quickly becomes apparent that Michelle has allowed the hold. It is the most important lesson Robin will learn tonight; the true art of the bearhug. Attacking is not sufficient - more than once a superior woman has been beaten by a lesser due to poor tactics, squandering her energy early with a sustained grip and leaving herself vulnerable to a counter-clinch. It is important not only to crush your opponent, but to allow her to waste herself, and the judgment it takes to employ this strategy is what makes a champion. Robin takes every opening Michelle gives her, and pours her reserves into the battle when a more experienced grappler might have feigned weakness in order to recover. Robin lacks the guile to turn Michelle's tactics against her. Swan breaks Robin's holds whenever it suits her, breaking the blonde's heart in the process.

Michelle scoops up an armful of blonde, cinching up from behind, lifting Robin into the air with pure power. Robin bends back over Michelle, gurgling as her spine takes on stress. A vicious gut-wrench bolts the breath from Robin's body, and Michelle lets the girl fall to her hands and knees. The finish is slow, deliberate, something that everyone present recognizes and appreciates. Swan lowers herself to Robin, posing for a moment like a Triumph model, one knee out to the side as she admires her handiwork. She mounts Robin from behind, pressing her steaming belly against the damp back beneath. Robin's shapely arms tremble underneath the weight. Sweat collects and beads at the tip of Robin's slightly hooked nose, dropping to the carpet with a barely audible 'pat'. Michelle's head rests happily upon Robin's upper back, eyes still focused on the task at hand, even though Robin is for all intents and purposes, vanquished. Slowly, Robin crumples in stages to the carpet, beaten for the first time in her life. She lies still upon her stomach, conscious, but no longer processing her surroundings. With a satisfied smile, Michelle pushes up from the wide white back of her victim, marveling at what she has done to the bigger, younger body at her feet. She has used Robin up. The smile grows on Michelle's face, lightening her features considerably, and for a moment, the simple pleasure of victory is all that matters. The applause rises to a raucous crescendo as Michelle slowly places a disdainful foot upon the curvaceous backside of the beaten blonde. It's not necessary, and Michelle is not known for humiliating her vanquished opponents, but the chemistry of every match is different. Reacting to the moment, and for reasons of her own, Michelle decides to turn Robin into a trophy.