Cut a ribbon in a shithole of a town, place one on a prized hog in a different shithole town, wave at the sparse crowd... Other than the gleaming tiara on her head, Hannah's new life as Miss Teen USA lacked the glamour she expected. At least, while touring her low-standards home state of Kansas, she could dress comfortably and get away with just the sash and crown.
But today she was excited; there would be cameras. She was invited to host an international fisting competition. Hannah didn't know much about boxing or martial arts, but nobody ever expected her to know anything at these events. Smiling got her this far.
Her trepidation culminated at the sight of gods among men, the ones who would fight for her honor and/or prize money. The head-to-head poster did not, could not do their sizes justice. Standing next to the young girl on stage, it was hard to believe they were all part of the same species.
Andre Roussimov was a giant with hands so big, he only extended one sausage finger for Hannah's dainty manicured hand to shake. His opponent, Julius Bjornsson, had more muscles than a gorilla on steroids, with forearms thicker than Hannah's thighs threatening to tear his rolled sleeves should he decide to flex.
"Flip the coin please, little miss, so we know who starts," Roussimov said, his booming voice coming from high above.
Hannah didn't understand what 'starting' meant in a fight, but there was a lot she didn't understand about the world she lived in. Her cheeks blushed from the attention she was getting from the 500-pound men and botched the coin toss, which landed into the crowd who parted to let the titans see.
Roussimov grunted and stepped down from the stage. Bjornsson picked up Hannah like a china doll and placed her on one of two tables set on stage.
"Excuse me? Excuse me, what is happening?" Hannah realized that her aversion to reading rules and terms & agreements, or just reading in general, might have landed her in a bit of a bind when the Icelandic strongman ripped her jeans right off her butt in a single tug of her belt like they were made of paper.
"Excuse me..." she asked again but now to newcomers settling themselves at the second table a few feet away: a white-haired man in a fancy suit and a young woman in a bright yellow dress. "What is he doing?"
"That's why you should wear a skirt to a fisting, sweetheart," the woman replied.
Hannah's struggles while naked from the waist down were imperceivable to the gentle monster roping her thighs and respective forearms together. She didn't consider herself the brightest cookie in the shed and usually assumed that the bad situations she landed in were her fault. She wondered who would be more mad about seeing her hairless slit on live television: her agent or her parents?
"But why can't I keep my pants?" she asked.
"Shhh, we're about to go live," the lady replied with finality.
"Oh... sorry..."
"In Five. Four. Three..."
The man's announcer voice was as professional as his haircut: "Welcome to ESPN After Dark for the Grand Finals of the King of Fist tournament. I am joined as always by my lovely analyst Cindy. Cindy, you're so passionate about this sport, but people are always asking me: when are we ever going to see you as a host?"
Cindy giggled. "I'm flattered Matt, but what I like about this sport is watching pretty, rich girls getting a taste an early of childbirth and bowel incontinence."
"Ah well, that makes two of us. And speaking of which, we have such a treat tonight: Kansas' very own, Miss Teen USA will be our host. What a lovely young lady."
Hannah couldn't go against her programming even in this mortifying and confusing situation. She waved with the free fingers pinned against her right ankle.
"So Bjornsson has won the toss and will get to claim which hole he is going to stretch today. What is he thinking about now, Cindy?"
"Well, Matt, Bjornsson is allowed five minutes to test the elasticity of the vaginal opening and anus with only his pinkie finger. Fisters will usually decide quickly then take the entirety of the allocated time to get a head start. Every minute counts when you only have twenty of them to create the biggest gape possible."
"Excuse me?" Hannah dared to speak since the severity of her situation was coalescing in her mind. "I would rather not have my holes tested at all if possible. There might have been a mis..." The cutest teen in America scrunched her face and sucked her teeth; the fat prick-size pinkie dipped in her pink without foreplay. It dug around and ran circles in there for five whole minutes.
"How about that! He didn't even need to test the ass; Bjornsson knew he wanted that sweet teen pussy."
"It's a smart move, Matt. Now Roussimov will have to deal with a completely untrained anus. The pussy is typically more malleable than the rectum, which means it will recover more quickly. However, Bjornsson has demonstrated in the past that his cervix game was unparalleled. I think we're going to watch him crash into the womb and let his massive flexors ruin the cervix beyond repair and leave the birth canal a cavernous hole from which light cannot escape."
"3, 2, 1... Fist!"
Cindy's analysis was spot on. It would have taken a normal man hours to work his smaller hand past the vaginal entrance, but Julius Bjornsson's technique and finger strength allowed him to pull Hannah's pussy horizontally and vertically apart with his index and middle fingers, then in a triangle by adding his ring finger to the mix. In mere minutes, he was up to his wrist in the wet warmth of Miss Teen USA's cavity.
Hannah didn't even get a chance to scream. Julius' was keeping her from sliding off the table with a grip on her throat. The bindings were solid; all the tiara-clad girl could do against the pain is close her eyes, clench her jaw, and hope that a winner was declared soon.
Circle motions, thrusts, finger extensions... the recording-holding forearms stretched Hannah's birth canal as the arm moved forward. The man waited for his whole fist to be square against her womb before getting to work on the cervix. He employed the same technique as her pussy in this much more constraining environment. The index finger that poked through the gaping opening to the final knuckle had the strength of a whole hand. Though it fought hard against the rimming, the cervix was doomed to eventually dilate to the thickest part of Bjornsson's forearm.
Hannah learned that a fist crashing through your cervix is not the most unpleasant sensation in the world. That title goes to getting your guts punched through your uterus while something even larger (in this case, an immense forearm) stretched your cervix thin.
When the announcers gave Julius the 5-minute warning, He pulled his entire fist out of Hannah's reproductive system just to plunge it back in one motion. And repeat. Harder. Faster. Hannah hoped the camera would not pick up on the lewd music of her battered pussy.
"Aaaaand time. Wow, what a finish! Look at that gaping hole. I can see her fallopian tubes from where I'm sitting. That's going to be hard to beat. Cindy?
"Absolutely, Matt, this is one of the most thorough pussy gapes I have ever seen, made more impressive by the size and age of tonight's host. I don't think this hole will shrink at all before it's time to compare, maybe not ever. However, Andre is at home in the rectum. Size doesn't mean everything but his giant fist is a literal anal wrecking ball. The only question is, will he be able to go as deep as we've seen him go inside a much more petite and inexperienced host."
"Would you go as far as to say she's an anal virgin, Cindy?"
"It's extremely likely, Matt. Look at her tight, little pink star twitching in fear. I'd be surprised to learn that her boyfriend ever put a finger up there during sex."
"Well, let's hope Roussimov doesn't pull his punches, Cindy, or we might be looking at a new fisting champion before the day is over.
Roussimov's fist on her bum was like being forced to sit on a rotating stool. Like Bjornsson, this giant had his non-fisting hand around her neck, keeping Hannah from expressing her uneasiness over the announcers' voices.
For the first five minutes, he made no apparent progress at all, just pushed against the pinhole anus with his colossal fist in a corkscrew motion. Even Hannah was surprised when her anus suddenly broke and the entire paw plunged inside the tight grip of her rectum. The moment he was wearing Hannah's anus as a wristwatch, Rossimov went wild.
In no time, Rossimov's knuckles were protruding out of Hannah's belly. The cameraman got closer for a good shot. Her anus, rectum, and large intestine were ruins in the wake of the fist always digging deeper inside the small girl's pelvic girdle. Roussimov was up to his elbow in bowels when the five-minute warning made him react the same way as his challenger. The wrecking ball popped out of her prolapsed asshole and slammed right back against her stretched transcending colon with disturbing ease. Miss Teen USA's guts were treated like a punching bag for more than five minutes until the announcers' voice finally reached the feral giant who was moments away from disqualification.
Even though she could not move a muscle during the entire competition, Hannah was panting and drooling while her gaping was exhibited, each fighter fish-hooking their respective holes to show the announcers their handiwork.
"Wow, what a match. I mean from where I'm standing, both holes seem equally destroyed."
"I agree, Matt. It looks like we're going to need a twenty-minute overtime to settle this battle. The holes will be switched, and, this time, fisters will compete in tandem."
"Sounds brutal, Cindy. Is there even enough space in that teen's abdomen for two of the biggest fists in the entire world?"
"Probably not, Matt. They'll have to make some room."
And so the fisters traded places and readied themselves like sprinters on starting blocks. When Hannah realized what was going on, she thought the next twenty minutes would not be as bad as the first forty because of her already gaping, fist-sized holes. But, gaping or not, she was unprepared for the stretching of her skin and the bending of her pelvis that two arms inflicted on her small bottom half.
After another overtime, a dinner break, and another overtime, Hannah's pussy and ass still seemed remarkably similar in depth and width. The female announcer had to stick her own arm up to the shoulder inside each to touch the bottom. Hannah didn't even notice the slender hand inside her unless it touched the sides.
Seven overtimes later, the match was considered a draw and the announcers left along with the few remaining audience members. The fisters would have to share the 250$ prize money. Their pride as men, however, was worth so much more, and they kept on fisting through the night.
