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Description
Author's Note: Veherzak and I started this collaboration way back in the early days of summer. Isa Armstrong is his character, and we took turns writing this -- astute readers might be able to pick out where my voice ends and his begins, or vice versa. Everyone enjoys the pictures, of course, but we do hope you enjoy the story below as well.

Previous: Stranger in a Strange Land VII

Cosworth took one last lap, vigorously windmilling her arms forwards and backwards to work off the lingering effects of the Lotus Lock, then she asked, "Alright, Isa. You ready?"

Isa got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her shorts before planting her hands on her hips, and she answered with another question, "How do you want me?"

"Just like that is fine."

Camille strode over to Isa so they were face-to-face, then she dipped her knees so that she was eye-level with the other woman's chest. Before Armstrong could make another comment about Cosworth's wandering gaze, a pair of arms looped around her lower ribcage, and a moment later, Isa found herself hefted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

"Bearhug...?" she said through a grimace when she felt those arms constrict around her floating ribs.

"Yeah, sorry..." Camille mused, sounding rather genuine in her apology. "Head's still kinda foggy so I'm not in a creative mood..."

With that, she dipped into another slight crouch before explosively straightening her legs and arching her back, forcing a very pained, very surprised gasp from the Romani wrestler. Having served as a practice dummy for her BFF Bela more times than she could remember, Isa was intimately and agonizingly familiar with the simple and brutal efficacy of the Bearhug. Even so, it wasn't often that Armstrong found herself manhandled -- to say nothing of being made to feel small -- especially when the tale of the tape suggested that she held the advantage in physicality.

"God... how are you...?!" Isa puffed out between squeezes. "Do I weigh... weigh nothing to... UNGH!"

"I've been told I'm stronger than I look," Camille replied, sounding placid and slightly amused.

Cosworth dipped and rose and dipped and rose over and over again, using the strength in her core to power a bone-crunching Bearhug. Armstrong gripped her biceps, trying to loosen those limbs just a tiny amount, and when that proved fruitless, the Romani wrestler's legs instinctively coiled around her waist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Nuh-uh-uh! No cheating, Isa!" Camille playfully chided, giving another powerful thrust, forcing Isa to yelp in pain and popping her legs open.

Armstrong already learned from the Romero Hold that Cosworth wasn't going to get tired from keeping her in the air. In fact, Camille seemed to be getting stronger as time wore on, although Isa couldn't be sure if that was simply because her ribs were getting more tenderized by the second. Finally, after more thrusts and squeezes than she cared count, she'd had enough.

"Submit... submit..." Isa weakly moaned, tapping her hand on Camille's shoulder for good measure.

Cosworth gingerly set her back down on the mat feet-first, though Armstrong immediately crumpled into a heap as soon as the other wrestler let go and backed away.

"You lasted seventy-three seconds, Isa. Congratulations, you win!" Camille cheerfully informed her.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay..." Isa groaned from the floor, neither looking nor feeling like much of a winner.

Choosing not to comment on that (probably because she’d felt exactly the same way not all that long before), Cam instead plopped down on the mat with her legs crossed.

“So, what’s next?”

Next: Stranger in a Strange Land IX

Description
Author's Note: Veherzak and I started this collaboration way back in the early days of summer. Isa Armstrong is his character, and we took turns writing this -- astute readers might be able to pick out where my voice ends and his begins, or vice versa. Everyone enjoys the pictures, of course, but we do hope you enjoy the story below as well.

Previous: Stranger in a Strange Land VII

Cosworth took one last lap, vigorously windmilling her arms forwards and backwards to work off the lingering effects of the Lotus Lock, then she asked, "Alright, Isa. You ready?"

Isa got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her shorts before planting her hands on her hips, and she answered with another question, "How do you want me?"

"Just like that is fine."

Camille strode over to Isa so they were face-to-face, then she dipped her knees so that she was eye-level with the other woman's chest. Before Armstrong could make another comment about Cosworth's wandering gaze, a pair of arms looped around her lower ribcage, and a moment later, Isa found herself hefted into the air like a sack of potatoes.

"Bearhug...?" she said through a grimace when she felt those arms constrict around her floating ribs.

"Yeah, sorry..." Camille mused, sounding rather genuine in her apology. "Head's still kinda foggy so I'm not in a creative mood..."

With that, she dipped into another slight crouch before explosively straightening her legs and arching her back, forcing a very pained, very surprised gasp from the Romani wrestler. Having served as a practice dummy for her BFF Bela more times than she could remember, Isa was intimately and agonizingly familiar with the simple and brutal efficacy of the Bearhug. Even so, it wasn't often that Armstrong found herself manhandled -- to say nothing of being made to feel small -- especially when the tale of the tape suggested that she held the advantage in physicality.

"God... how are you...?!" Isa puffed out between squeezes. "Do I weigh... weigh nothing to... UNGH!"

"I've been told I'm stronger than I look," Camille replied, sounding placid and slightly amused.

Cosworth dipped and rose and dipped and rose over and over again, using the strength in her core to power a bone-crunching Bearhug. Armstrong gripped her biceps, trying to loosen those limbs just a tiny amount, and when that proved fruitless, the Romani wrestler's legs instinctively coiled around her waist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Nuh-uh-uh! No cheating, Isa!" Camille playfully chided, giving another powerful thrust, forcing Isa to yelp in pain and popping her legs open.

Armstrong already learned from the Romero Hold that Cosworth wasn't going to get tired from keeping her in the air. In fact, Camille seemed to be getting stronger as time wore on, although Isa couldn't be sure if that was simply because her ribs were getting more tenderized by the second. Finally, after more thrusts and squeezes than she cared count, she'd had enough.

"Submit... submit..." Isa weakly moaned, tapping her hand on Camille's shoulder for good measure.

Cosworth gingerly set her back down on the mat feet-first, though Armstrong immediately crumpled into a heap as soon as the other wrestler let go and backed away.

"You lasted seventy-three seconds, Isa. Congratulations, you win!" Camille cheerfully informed her.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay..." Isa groaned from the floor, neither looking nor feeling like much of a winner.

Choosing not to comment on that (probably because she’d felt exactly the same way not all that long before), Cam instead plopped down on the mat with her legs crossed.

“So, what’s next?”

Next: Stranger in a Strange Land IX