Little Sister Is A Big Bully

[Jeremy Lightning]

Ooops, just read the last chapter before this one, her waist was 25 inches, so yeah, her hips are 35" bigger around than her waist, a real hourglass figure. k+!

[Jeremy Lightning]

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[daviology]

Great story . Just waiting for the epic fight now !!

[daviology]

Expecting a lot of verbal humiliation in the fight... I hope Kylie lets the guys kick her n punch her body n torment them verbally during the fight ..

[ame3cv62]

If i was here brother i would give up and do anything for her.

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 51

        Spring was beautiful this year, with warm weather and clear skies, and flowers blooming everywhere.  It was a time of rebirth for me as well.  I was doing really well in school, and had already gotten accepted into a couple of colleges, so I was looking forward to graduating and getting as far away from home as possible.  I had was starting to feel like a new man.
        Allison was changing as well.  She was working out three times a day now, using the gym in our basement as well as a local raw gym, and she had only grown more quiet and distant.  She was living like a monk, focused totally on lifting weights and eating a diet consisting of platefuls of whole foods.  Not even my mom could get her out of her shell.  "You know what, Allison," mom purred one Saturday as we ate lunch.  "You've been stuck inside that sweatsuit for months. What say we head out to the pool for a quick dip?  It's a little chilly, but I'm sure we can find a way to... keep warm."
        "I can't," Allison said as she gobbled down her last bite of food and began swallowing pills.
        "What's in those pills anyway?" I asked her.  "You've been taking them nonstop for weeks."
        "Let's see," Allison sighed.  "The big ones are multivitamins, the white ones are amino acids, the yellow ones are testosterone boosters, the blue ones are supposed to increase my growth hormone levels, and the pink ones are supposed to make my boobs get bigger."
        "You're taking pills to make your boobs grow?" I asked skeptically.  "Seriously?"
        "There's a little science behind it," Allison said.  "Besides, I need every advantage I can get."
        "How does having bigger tits give you advantage?" I asked, although I knew the answer.
        "Well I think your tatas are perfect the way they are," mom said, nuzzling up to Allison and batting her eyelids.  "Although it's been ages since I got to see them.  Or taste them."
        "Maybe later," Allison said, standing up and swallowing her pills with a gulp of protein shake.
        Then Allison's ears perked up as she heard Kylie's voice emanating from the TV in the living room.  Her and mom stampeded out of the kitchen, with me in tow, to the living room where dad had been watching the sports network.  During the commercial break, they were airing a commercial for the upcoming UFC heavyweight championship fight.  Clips of the 3 male fighters' signature wins were interwoven at a hectic pace.  "I just want to get her out of the way, and get back to reclaiming my title," said Dan Davis, the Olympic wrestling medalist and 5-time defending champion whose injury two years ago had started the tangle at the top of the heavyweight division.  "I'm undefeated in mixed martial arts, and there's no way in hell I'm losing to an arrogant little girl."
        "I've spent my career dropping roided-out guys with big mouths," said Tom Turner, the interim champ who had used his expert boxing and Muay Thai striking to successfully defend the title 3 times.  "So it's no stretch to drop a roided-out little girl with a big mouth."
        "I ain't afraid of a little girl, no matter how big she is," said Rex Ralston, the #1 contender who used his world-class grappling skills to fight Tom Turner to a draw in Japan.  "Big deadlift don't help you when you're getting' choked out.  And I've proved that time and time again."
        Then end of the commercial was a montage of Kylie working out in slow motion, her hulking body beading with sweat as she lifted impossibly heavy weights, the feminine curves of her butt and boobs accentuated by the lighting and her skin-tight workout kit.  "I may be a little girl," Kylie's voice said as she wrapped her hands, the muscles in her arms popping with impossible size and twitching with unreal definition.  "But I've got big muscles and a bad temper.  And I always win.  Always."
        For the first time in weeks, I saw Allison smile.  "Kylie is going to crush them," she said.
        "I hope she goes easy on them," mom said nervously.  "They look so frail compared to her."
        "I just hope she wears something modest, for a change," dad grumbled.

        The buildup to Kylie's fight was impossible to ignore, much as I tried.  Sports outlets were talking about the possibility of other dominant female athletes arising, news outlets were talking about the moral implications of women competing with men in combat sports, and entertainment outlets were plastering pictures of Kylie all of the internet and magazine stands. 
        Sometimes Kylie was presented as a dominant athlete, with her muscles knotting and swelling in one dynamic pose or another, and sometimes Kylie was presented as a fashion icon, striking a pose that emphasized her fresh face, bountiful curves, perfect hair, and perfect tan.  Either way, there was nothing I could do to avoid her.  She was on every website, on every magazine stand, and on every television station.  Once again, it was all about her.  Since I was starting to pick out a college for the fall, I started looking at the Peace Corpse or any study-abroad program that would get me away from civilization, to somewhere I would never have to hear about Kylie again.

        By the time May rolled around, I was basically a hermit, completing college paperwork and trying to sneak in some weightlifting when the basement was free.  But between mom and Allison, I was lucky if I could find an hour per day to hit the weights.  One Friday afternoon I managed to find some time with the weights after Allison had finished her afternoon set, and before mom got back from shopping.  But my face fell as I walked into the basement, and saw all the barbells and dumbbells still loaded, packed with more weight than I could even dream of lifting.  "What the hell?' I asked myself out loud as I approached the bench, and counted the plates.  "Can she really bench press 365?"
        "For about 18 reps,"  Allison voice answered from the stairs.  "My 1-rep max is a lot higher, but I'm focusing on time under tension right now, because I need to get ripped."
        I was afraid to ask Allison what her max bench was.  She was wearing a pink sweatsuit from Kylie's apparel line, and despite its baggy contours it was well cut for Allison's body, showing off broad rounded shoulders and thick sweeping thighs.  As she walked down the stairs and into the light I could see the fabric of the sweatsuit was tight around her calves, forearms and glutes, and I silently wondered what had become of the curvaceous 18-year old body that I fell in love with nearly a year ago.  She was still radiantly beautiful, with perfect skin and shining red hair, and the swell of her big round breasts had only grown more pronounced as her chest got thicker and her waist got smaller. "You forgot to rack your weights," I murmured, trying to avoid the mesmerizing sparkle of her eyes.
        "I was in a hurry," she said.  "I didn't want to miss the flight.  Where are your bags?"
        "What flight?" I asked.
        "The flight to Las Vegas," Allison said as she helped me break down the weights, effortlessly flipping 45 pound plates onto the racks.  "Kylie's big fight is tomorrow.  Don't tell me you forgot?"
        I had forgotten.  Or at least, I pushed thoughts of Kylie as far out of my mind as I could.  "You know, I don't really want to go to Las Vegas," I said.  "You all can go without me."
        "Oh no you don't mister," mom called from the basement door as she tromped downstairs.  "Your little sister is performing in front of millions of people, and she needs your support."
        "Kylie doesn't need my support, mom," I grumbled.
        "Richard," mom said sternly.  "I'm going to count to 3, and then the bosoms come out.  1, 2..."

        A few hours later I was with dad in the hotel lobby of the Waldorf Astoria in Las Vegas, waiting for mom and Allison.  When they finally arrived, heads turned all around the hotel.  Mom was wearing a strapless low-cut gold-sequined cocktail dress that forced her gigantic jiggling J-cup boobs up and outward like two white water balloons getting ready to fall off a shelf.  Her dress was cut so short that it exposed the crease where her muscular hamstrings met her round cellulite free buttocks, and her 4-inch stiletto heels held her jutting calves and sweeping thighs into unmistakably feminine lines.  Her dress, combined with her gold horned-rimmed glasses and beehive hairdo made her look like a 1940's cheesecake girl.  But her lean sculpted body, punctuated with rounded shoulders and a rocky back, showed a level of muscularity that no woman from that era ever dreamed of achieving.  Despite being over 50 years old, and despite not having touched a set of weights until last year, my mother had a physique that could have won any female bodybuilding contest in the 1980's or ant fitness competition in the 2000's.  And she was showing it off to everyone who would look, flexing her muscles for selfies and flirting with anyone approached her. 
        Allison, on the other hand, was dressed very modestly in a long green dress with long sleeves, showing just a hint of cleavage.  With her hair swept to one side, she provided a classy counterpoint to mom's scandalous ensemble.  "You're wearing more clothes that any other woman in Vegas," I said.
        Allison blushed and looked down.  "I'm not ready," she said.  "My body is...  I'm just not ready."
        "Wow," dad said, ogling mom.  "You look stunning.  I'd be honored to have you on my arm."
        "In your dreams, buster!"  mom laughed.  "I wouldn't waste a body like this on a wimp like you."
        And then mom took Allison by the arm, and we all walked outside, toward the arena.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Yeah, I liked how competitive Allison has become, I'm guessing she's trying to compete with Lola for Kylie's attention, trying to get bigger, more ripped muscles, bigger tits, and stronger as well, but I'm thinking that Lola is going to stay ahead of her, pretty much effortlessly. Allison's body just isn't like Kylie's and Lola's, and seemingly Rick's moms in that it's not primed to grow as fast as the rest of them, but she's putting effort in and that's nice to see. Probably all for naught, but it's a nice visual. Looking forward to Kylie's fight. k+!

[JerusalemTulip]

I expect we'd all like a better look at Allison's body now, even though she's no longer particularly disposed towards showing it to our narrator.  Maybe some guys try to paw at her in an elevator again and rather than asking Rick to find help, she flexes out of her outfit...

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 52

        The arena was filled to capacity, and everywhere I looked I saw women in revealing form-fitting pink and white clothes from Kylie's athletic apparel line, and almost all of them were athletically built.  Although none of them had muscles to compare with mom or Allison, let alone Kylie, all of them were showing off toned limbs and broad shoulders as as they gossiped with one another and waited for the fights to start.  I had never seen so many fit women together in one place, and the confidence with which they lounged in their seats and displayed their feminine curves made me uncomfortable.  The sexuality that they displayed with their cleavage and bare skin was compelling my sexual instincts to stare at them and grope them, but the power that they displayed with their muscles and self-assurance was compelling my fight-or-flight instincts to avoid them completely.  I was surrounded on all sides by a combination of seductive femininity and intimidating strength, a combination that forced my brain into a dilemma that I could neither ignore nor resolve, and I wished with every passing second that the lights would go down and the fights would start, so I could think about something else.
        Eventually, the show began.  The undercards were great fights, full of popular and skilled fighters who all put on a great show, because the fight night bonuses were twice as high as they normally were, owing to the huge global pay-per-view audience that had tuned in to watch a teenaged girl fight three grown men at once.  The UFC may have hated having Kylie in their league, but they sure loved cashing in her fame.  In between fights the jumbotrons flashed pictures of all the celebrities at ringside.  First and foremost among them was Princess Honey, who was proudly branded with Kylie's logo.  Beside her sat Big Jon Jackson, the hulking American football player that she had married a few years ago, looking visibly unhappy she chatted exuberantly with other women.
        Finally the arena went black for the main event, and the crowd cheered wildly as Kylie was introduced first, as the challenger in a fight against 3 champions.  Slowly and easily, Kylie strolled down the aisle as the song "Angel of Death" by Slayer shook the seats in the area, a cocky smirk on her face and her blonde hair spilling out in tresses as opposed to the tight braids that most female fighters wore.  It was as if she was daring the other fighters to pull her hair.  Instead of the normal pink and white that marked her apparel line, her robe was a shimmering black, with an updated logo made specially for the fight.  The new logo still featured the Venus mirror with a muscular woman inside, but now the Venus mirror was surrounded by the outline of a skull, with crossbones beneath it.
        Soon Kylie was at the stairs to the ring, and the jumbotron flashed her statistics as she began to remove her robe.  13 years old, 5'4" tall, 353 pounds, reach of 65", and a professional record of 1-0.  "353 pounds?' I exclaimed.  "She weighed 301 in February, and that was 3 months ago.  You can't put on 50 pounds in 3 months, not even if you just pig out and get fat.  It's not possible for anyone to-"
        As Kylie's robe hit the ground, my words died in my mouth.  I knew she had been steadily growing since her fight with Hunor Horvath, having seen her on the Late Night Show and having seen her break Princess Honey in her Palace of Pump.  But I hadn't seen her in weeks, and I wasn't prepared to see the body that she was proudly displaying as she smiled and blew kisses for her fans.  Her upper arms were as big as watermelons, her calves were the size of half cinder bocks, and her buttocks were the size of classroom globes.  Thick slabs of muscle bulged from her entire body, contracting and flexing with every movement, but instead of making her body blocky and stout, Kylie's muscles wrapped around her limbs and trunk to accentuate her feminine curves from her jutting chest to her waspish waist, to her round buttocks to her curvaceous legs.  Her massive shredded physique was covered by a black sportsbra and black hotpants, both bearing her new skull and crossbones logo, and although her kit was hardly skimpy, her feminine assets forced themselves into prominence.  She was unmistakably the most muscular human being on earth, and she was unmistakably a girl.
        Next the three men were introduced, first Rex Ralston, then Tom Turner, then Dan Davis.  They were all over 6 feet tall, they all weighed over 200 pounds, and they all had several inches of reach advantage on Kylie.  Moreover they were all well-rounded and seasoned fighters, despite their specialized backgrounds.  Kylie paid them no mind, and as they walked into the ring one at a time, she flexed her titanic muscles for the adoring crowd and ignored their cheers as she scrutinized her physique carefully, as if looking for flaws in a diamond.  It was obvious from their facial expressions that they, too, were surprised by Kylie's size and muscularity, and she giggled at their obvious shock as she slowly flexed her mountainous biceps, while the women in the arena screamed and cheered.
        As soon as the men were in the ring, a fight official stepped inside, laden down with the accessories that were going to serve as Kylie's handicap, followed in turn by three fight judges.  The official held up a belt made of braided steel cables, which was about as wide as a seatbelt but much thicker, and the judges began to examine it closely.  Allison began to read aloud from her phone.  "Ms. O'Reilly's arm will be bound with a belt made of 64 braided steel cables.  Each cable is 1/16" in diameter with a breaking strain of 368 pounds.  Belts such as these are used to secure aircraft and shipping containers.  The belt will be secured in in a padded leather sleeve to prevent it from injuring her opponents."  Allison's brow furrowed as she finished reading, her newly stoic demeanor weakening, and her eyes flashing with the anger that she would display early in our relationship.  "What the fuck do they mean 'prevent it from injuring her opponents'?" she huffed. 
        "I guess they don't want the guys to cut their hands if they accidentally punch the belt," I said.
        "Well what about Kylie?" she fumed.  "Don't they care about whether or not she gets injured?"
        "Maybe they would if she wasn't so arrogant," I sniped.  "It serves her right if she gets hurt."
        "This is so typical," Allison said, clenching her fists.  "A woman can show cleavage, but she can't show confidence, and God forbid if she shows both!"
        "Nobody likes arrogant people, Allison," I said.  "It doesn't matter if they're guys or girls."
        "Bullshit," she said, as women in the surrounding seats began to take notice of our argument.  "When a guy has swagger, there's always this begrudging respect that gets shown.  You say 'He's cocky, but he can back it up'.  But when a woman has swagger, you say 'What a bitch, I hope she gets what's coming to her'.  You know what this is, Rick?  This is Hooter Envy, plain and simple."
        "I'm not jealous of Kylie's tits," I hissed.  "I hate her because she's a total bitch."
        "They always say that," a woman behind me laughed.  "It's a classic case of Hooter Envy."
        I was starting to get agitated, but in the ring Kylie was perfectly calm as the fight official put the steel cable belt in its sleeve and bound it around her wrist, then fastened it around her waist and began to tighten it.  I was amazed that Kylie could actually tuck her massive arm behind her hulking back, if not completely.  Despite the hundreds of pounds of muscle that Kylie had put on in the past year, it appeared she had retained the flexibility that she showed during childhood when she used to dominate gymnastics meets, and as a 12-year-old when she knocked out Kevin King with a scorpion kick so perfect it could have been in a kung-fu movie.  As the 3 other fighters looked on, the fight judges tugged on the belt to make sure that it was secure, and the fight official prepared the blindfold.  The blindfold was more like a black hood that covered the top half of Kylie's head, but before the fight official slipped it on all three judges examined it, and Kylie quickly tied her hair up in a ponytail with one hand in an impressive display of manual dexterity.  The hood fit tightly around Kylie's head, almost like a superhero mask, cut comfortably around her nose and ears, her blonde ponytail sticking out.
        "I'm like, so nervous for Kylie," a young woman in front of us said. "I was blind for a day after my lasik surgery, and I was helpless.  I couldn't keep my balance, and I was bumping into everything."
        "Don't worry," Allison said.  "Kylie will win.  Kylie always wins."
        "Yeah, but what if she doesn't?" the young woman in front of us said gravely, turning around.
        Allison's face fell, as if she had never considered the possibility that Kylie might lose, despite the ridiculous handicaps she was facing.  Then mom joined in.  "You don't think..?" mom asked, her voice choked.  "You don't think my perfect little muscle princess might actually... not win a fight?"
        "Kylie will win," Allison said quietly, wringing her hands.  "Kylie always wins.  She has to win."
        As the women around me started to worry, their faith in Kylie flagging, I started to feel better.  Maybe Kylie would lose.  After all, she wasn't really a goddess, she was just a bratty 13-year-old girl.  And with one arm tied behind her back, the men could simply lift her up and drop her to the mat time and time again.  And because she was blindfolded, they could dance around her and pepper her with punches.  The men could win on points without having to contend with her strength.  "She is going to lose," I whispered to myself, so no one could hear me.  "This time, she's actually going to lose."
         In the ring, Kylie was still wearing a cocky smirk as the announcer introduced the fight, and the bell rang.  Kylie took small, but steady steps toward the center of the ring as the men fanned out around her cautiously.  And for the first few seconds of the fight, nothing happened at all.  "Well?" Kylie asked.  "Are you wimps going to attack me, or am I going to have to come and find you?"

[Jeremy Lightning]

Finally, we get to the "fight of the century" which even with Kylie's limitations is more likely to be a complete massacre, just because Kylie is so big, tough, strong, I can't see her losing, or even really coming close. In fact, the only way I see this fight lasting over 2 minutes is if Kylie is just playing with them the whole time. But whatever happens, I look forward to the fight! k+!

[nickolai]

I agree.  I can see for the fist few minutes Kylie demonstrating her superior speed and reflexes but dodging all of their punches and kicks while looking like a graceful dancer somehow even while blindfolded.  When the fighters say stand still you little b-word she says, "Ok" and becomes an immovable block of iron.  She just stands there giggling as the fighters injure their hands and feet landing blows on her stoney/steely body and remains unmoved as the fighters struggle to put her in holds.  Then she begins the destruction.  Will be great.

[grbaclig]

Part 3, Chapter 53

        As the three best heavyweight fighters on the planet looked at each other, preparing to combine their forces against my incredibly strong and amazingly muscular kid sister, an anxious silence fell over the crowd broken only by a few scattered hoots and wolf whistles.  Tom Turner moved in first, in a fighting stance appropriate to his Muay Thai background, despite the fact that Kylie was flat-footed and blindfolded with her right arm tied behind her back.  His serious approach was a clear sign that, despite his trash talking, he respected Kylie's skill as a fighter, or at least her strength.  From our seats we could hear the commentators talking.  "Can she at least hear them in there?" one announcer asked.  "You spent years in the ring, Andy.  Can you hear other fighters moving around?"
        Andy shook his head.  "Not when it's noisy," he said.  "When it's noisy, you can barely hear your cornerman yelling at you.  When it's quiet like this you might be able to hear grunting or stomping.  But she can't hear them walking around and breathing, not unless she has phenomenal hearing."
        "I do have phenomenal hearing," Kylie said, turning toward the commentators.
        But I guess Kylie's hearing wasn't phenomenal enough, because while she was talking, Tom Turner launched a spinning back kick at her exposed ribs.  As his heel hurtled toward her ninth and tenth ribs, I realized that he was going for a liver shot, the kind of blow that could hobble even the toughest fighters by flooding their bloodstream with system-shocking toxins, and judging by the wind up that he put on his kick, that's exactly the kind of blow that he was hoping for.  Then the UFC's best heavyweight striker smashed his heel into the ribs of an unsuspecting 13-year-old girl. 
        And the 13-year old girl laughed.
        Kylie remained motionless, completely unfazed by the kick as it bounced impotently off the rock-hard muscles of her torso.  "I found you," Kylie sang as Tom fell to the mat, holding his heel.
        Kylie began to slowly advance on Tom Turner as the women in the crowd began to cheer.  Then Dan Davis attacked, rushing forward with shoulder down and plowing into Kylie's left side, grabbing her left leg in a takedown attempt that seemed more appropriate for a rugby tackle than a wrestling takedown.  It was the sort of attack that would never work in a fair fight, where your opponent could see you, but being blindfolded Kyile never got the chance to defend herself. 
        It didn't matter.  Dan Davis slammed into Kylie as if she were a brick wall, soliciting a lilting girly giggle from her.  "What was that I just felt?"  Kylie taunted.  "Did a bug just land landing on me?"
        As Dan Davis struggled against Kylie's enormously muscular left leg, his arms wrapped around a calf muscle that was bigger than his shoulder, Tom Turner scampered away, pulling himself up to his feet and favoring his sore heel.  Kylie turned toward Tom, apparently having heard or felt his hopping and scampering on the canvas, and began walking casually toward him, dragging Dan Davis with her, as if he were weightless.  "She is so strong," a teenaged girl sitting to my right said.  "It is totally awesome.  I want to be strong like that.  Did you see her crush that boulder at the World's Strongest Man competition?  Edges totally snatched."
        "She's gotten stronger since then," Allison said, leaning over me to talk to the teenaged girl.
        "OMG what?" the girl asked.  "That's so fire.  Kylie is a goddess.  She's going to dominate."
        But to my delight, they had spoken too soon.  Suddenly Rex Ralston attacked Kylie's right leg, and she fell forward, tripping over his body as Dan Davis continued to cling to her.  "That's a takedown for the guys," the ringside commentator called, and I cheered, along with the other men in the crowd.
        "Bullshit!"  a woman to our left said.  "That was a trip at best.  The judges better not count that."
        Kylie was face down on the mat now, and Dan Davis moved quickly to take her back, but he had trouble working his way up her massively muscled body, especially as he tried not to touch her butt or boobs.  Soon he had his arms locked around Kylie's left arm, trying to use the combined strength of both arms to force Kylie into a chicken wing arm bar, using the anatomical structure of the human body to his advantage.   As an experienced Olympic wrestling champion, Dan knew that the person applying the chicken wing arm bar could utilize all the force in their arms and shoulders to apply the lock, while the person receiving the lock could only use their rear delts and brachialis to resist it.  And he knew that no one on earth had enough strength in their rear delts and brachialis to resist a locked-in chicken wing arm bar. 
        Well, almost no one. 
        To his surprise, Dan Davis learned that the smaller muscles in Kylie's left arm were more than a match for all the muscles in both of his arms combined, as he struggled to move her gigantic arm even an inch.  And as he strained uselessly, planting his knee against Kylie's enormous left leg for leverage, he learned that one of Kylie's arms was a match for his entire body. 
        As Dan struggled with Kylie's left arm, Rex Ralston hopped onto her right leg, trapping her diminutive foot in a toe hold.  As a 6th-degree Jiu Jitsu black belt, Rex knew that the person applying the toe hold could utilize all the force in their arms and shoulders to apply the lock, while the person receiving the lock could only use their Achilles tendon and the muscles in their foot to resist it.  And he knew that no one on earth had enough strength in their Achilles tendon and their foot to resist a locked-in toe hold.
        Well, almost no one.
        To his surprise, Rex Ralston learned that Kylie's small girly right foot was more than a match for all the muscles in both of his arms combined, as he struggled to wrench her ankle even a millimeter out of position.  The crowd was going wild now, as two of the biggest and best male grapplers in the world attempted to subdue my mega-muscular little sister.  "They can't submit her," the young woman in front of us said.  "Kylie's too strong for them."
        "Kylie's too strong for anyone,"  Allison said smugly.
        "They don't need to submit her,"  I said spitefully.  "All they need to do is outpoint her for five rounds, and that's going to be really easy if she can't see, and especially if she can't get off the mat."
        "She'll get up," a woman behind me said.  "She has to."
        "She can't," I spat.  "She has both arms and legs tied up.  The only way she could get up is..."
        And then, as if she heard me, Kylie's legs began to harden and bloom with striations as began to perform Nordic hamstring curls.  Slowly, Kylie's knees began to bend, and her body began to raise up in the air, pulled off the mat by the strength of her buttokcs and legs in an incredible display of muscle control.  Murmurs of awe went through the crowd as Kylie's gargantuan glutes swelled into blocks of chiseled muscle, her hulking hamstrings bulged bigger than most men's quads, and her amazing abdominals rippled with strength as they held her spine straight.  "No way," I gulped.  "She weighs 350 pounds.  Her legs can't be that strong."
        "Oh they are that strong," Allison jeered.  "But you don't have to believe me.  See for yourself."
        Sure enough, Kylie was upright, resting on her knees as the two burly men fought to keep her from rising to her feet.  The women were all cheering now, as Kylie's cocky smirk returned to her face. 
        It was then that Tom Turner rushed forward, his heel having recovered from its collision with Kylie's steely muscles, and swung a ferocious right hook at Kylie's jaw.  As a boxing champion, Tom Turner knew that a heavy punch delivered squarely to the jaw could twist a person's neck, putting enough stress on the brain stem to cause it to spasm, knocking them out instantly.  And he knew that no one on earth had enough strength in their jaw and neck to absorb the force of a cleanly-landed haymaker.
        Well, almost no one.
        Tom Turner's fist crashed into Kylie's face, striking her squarely on the jaw with enough force to send a heavyweight boxer flying through the air, which was just enough force to make Kylie's cheek jiggle.  Immediately, she turned toward Tom, having quickly triangulated his position from the direction of the strike.  "Did you just hit me in the face?" she asked with a scowl.  "I'm a 13-year-old girl, I'm photographed and interviewed all the time, and I'm blindfolded.  And you hit me in the face!?"
        "My perfect little muscle princess!" mom cried.  "Oh I hope her beautiful face is okay!"
        "I'd be more worried about Tom Turner," Allison chuckled. "Because he's about to get crushed."
        Kylie erupted up on to her feet, throwing Dan Davis and Rex Ralston aside like ragdolls as she cracked her neck.  "You just sucker punched a 13-year-old girl in the face?" she demanded as Tom backed away, a look of horror on his face as he realized that even though Kylie's jaw was as round and dainty as any other girl her age, it was made of the same rock-hard muscle as the rest of her. 
        As he backed away, his panicked footsteps echoed on the mat loudly enough for Kylie to stalk him, cutting off the ring like an experienced fighter.  As Kylie drew nearer, Tom's fighting instincts took over, and he fired a front kick squarely into Kylie's chest, where it smacked uselessly against her monstrous pectorals, and she smiled.  Then acting out of fear, he lashed out with a looping overhand left, striking Kylie on the other side of her face.  Kylie froze in her tracks, obviously unharmed but obviously angry.  "You just don't learn, do you?" she growled.  "I guess I have to teach you a lesson."

[Saxony Red Devil]

I reckon this story would take a much more interesting turn if she somehow lost this.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Like I said, Kylie was toying with these guys, allowing them to take her down to the mat, and it was probably going to be more playing for the next couple of minutes, until Tom punched her, while the punch seemingly had very little affect, it did seem to get her attention, and that's not going to be good for Tom, and probably won't be too good for the other two guys either. It seems her face may just be as muscular and tough as the rest of her, though it does make me wonder, how does one build up the muscles of their face? Well, pretty sure Kylie found a way. Anyway, looking forward to more, k+!

[phil123]

There will be a bad end for the three fighters. But what happens next? What will be Kylie's goals after that? Lead the world?

[robby]

There will be a bad end for the three fighters. But what happens next? What will be Kylie's goals after that? Lead the world?

Good Idea.
Rick will provoque her " you might be physically powerful, but the president of the USA has more real power.
She gets angry. She launched herself into politics and get elected POTUS at 14 years old, after obtaining a constitutionnal change.
She turn the country into a dictatorship, totalitarian gynocracy with every women following her program and men enslaved.
Rick break up with Alison and flees abroad, putting an ocean between him and his sister. Why not in a very macho country, liké Iran or something.
Kylie finds him, invade the country and annex every countries to form her World sized empire.