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Strength in Numbers

This is a story of pure fiction. None of the events detailed in this story ever happened. The character of "Royal" George and Matt are the intellectual property of Exveefan. The character of Chester (Chet) is the intellectual property of his player (me). All other characters that are not central to the events of the story are intellectual property of me as well.

This story contains some M/M yiff, and hints towards sexual nature. The majority of the tale is feats of strength and muscle worship. If that turns you off in any way, then please feel free to ignore this particular work of fiction. If it doesn't turn your stomach and sounds like something you might be interested in reading, and you have reached the legal age of majority in your local area, then please feel free to continue reading. Enjoy.

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The cameras were all focused on one figure. Spotlights poured down on the massive frame of a colossal Clydesdale stallion, bathing his frame in a shimmering light - like a god of pure strength. The audience in the background fell hush. The only sound was a soft grunt coming from the huge horse that was the centre of all attention. The camera panned around and showed the television audience the object that the Clydesdale was trying to budge. It was a massive boulder. The stallion could barely get his huge arms around the thick rock, but he finally did manage. He used every ounce of strength in his mighty body. Muscles bulged and strained as he heaved the tonnage up off the ground slowly, shifting it up to his thighs, and then shifting his grip as he jerked the weight quickly up and hoisted it to the platform that was proof that he was the Strongest Fur in the world. Cheers erupted loudly from the audience nearby.

One horse, in particular, watching on the TV also cheered loudly from his living room as he watched George, the Clydesdale stallion, take the applause and adulation from the throngs of onlookers. Chester watched the strongfur competitions with enthusiasm all the time. Strength was a bit of a passion for him. He looked up to George since the beginning of George's career. The fact that George was the only competitor who could ever lift that final Atlas stone onto the platform alone meant that he was clearly the World's Strongest Fur. Every other contestant who tried to get that massive boulder up off the ground either injured themselves or just gave up trying. George was clearly in a class of strength all by himself. Chet literally worshipped that horse for his physical power.

Chester, himself, was more of a light draft breed. His body was certainly impressive, full of chiseled muscle and definition. He worked on the farm alone, after all. He was strong when he needed to be, but never trained for strongfur contests. That was a totally different kind of training. He trained for physical shape and conditioning. He wanted to 'look good'. Of course, he idolized strength, but he figured that he would have been laughed off a strongfur contest stage given his overall size. All of those furs were well over 10 feet tall. Chet barely topped 8 feet, and that was with his ears straight up.

He turned off the television and wondered to himself what happens after those contests finish. Obviously George had a bevvy of beautiful girls swarming after him, begging for his attention. That didn't interest Chet at all. It seems that George really loved that aspect of being crowned World's Strongest Fur though. The thoughts still roamed through Chester's mind.

Back at the contest, the spotlights shut off after the television cameras turned off from the live broadcast. The audience, of course, never stopped giving George his due praise. George lifted his right arm and then slowly flexed. The mass bulged thicker and harder but wasn't tremendously defined. It was just simply massive. Girls swooned at the pose. They hooted and hollered at him, just hoping that he would give them some attention back. He pointed to a couple of females who rushed up to him and started to worship that body of pure strength. He eventually made his way back to the backstage area, at least one or two mares hanging off each of his huge, strong arms, as they all retired to his private room. No one was allowed around the door to the dressing room area. Everyone assumed they knew what was going on inside anyway, but hearing a big stallion in the throes of pure lust and passion is something that most others couldn't really stand. It can get kinda wild, and given George's massive strength and sure size, .... well, use your imaginations. <grin>

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"Four years in a row! Damn, this is getting boring and predictable!" We've gotta spice things up. Get that damn horse some competition. Somewhere, there must be some fur strong enough to give him a run for the title."

"Until we change the rules to the contest, boss, he'll probably be the strongest one."

"No! We don't need to change the rules. We need another fur who's bigger and stronger. One who's charismatic and loves soaking up all that attention from the ladies."

"Maybe, if the perfect candidate hasn't come to the major contests at all those exotic resorts and locations we normally choose to have the strongfur contests, he'd come to a more common location. We might be able to find someone just in the audience itself. Make a slight change in the rules and slip that change past the competition committee quietly. Allow audience members to participate and try to show their abilities. That might even create a bigger, more interested audience too, eh boss?"

The boar in the fine-pressed suit stroked his thin goatee slowly, pondering what the underling had just suggested.

"On the other hand, if I changed the rules just a little bit, and made it possible for audience members to show off their strength for all to see, more people might attend local common venues. It'd be a smash hit, and maybe we'd finally be able to stir things up a bit."

The underling looked slightly dejected at first, but whipped up fake support "That sounds like a fantastic idea, boss!" He felt dirty all of the sudden.

The boar wrung his hands slowly together in scheming fashion.

"It's not like I want George to lose. People aren't tuning in anymore because there's really no contest anymore. He's clearly the strongest fur around. And he's got lots of sponsors who bring us money. That would be a shame if he actually lost those sponsors, and the money stopped flowing."

He writes some notes for the change in the rules. The new rule allows members of the audience to be included in the contest, should they volunteer, or should they be dared into coming up on the stage.

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Matt drove up to the farmhouse and noticed the tractor parked on the side of the driveway, tipped on to its side. He stopped the car and got out, walking over to inspect the state of the tractor. He chuckled a little bit and figured that the tractor might have let down its owner, Chester. The young blue dragon looked around for any signs of his friend. He heard some rustling out in the nearby field behind a line of trees, so he decided to go over and see if Chet was working in the field.

As he neared the field, he saw his friend harnessed into a horse yoke, pulling the large plow behind him. This was the regular plow that the huge tractor used to pull, but here was the lone stallion pulling with relative ease, plowing the side field. His back was to the tree line, so he didn't know that Matt was there, watching. The dragon sat blissfully in the grass watching the thick muscular back of the large stallion spread wide, those powerful legs pumping efficiently and pulling the huge plow in behind his body. Making one more pass around the field, Chet started to almost trot with the plow. He obviously wanted to get most of the work done before the real heat of the day. He wasn't sweating as much as he should have been, given the task he was doing.

As he turned the corner alongside the driveway, he looked up the drive and saw his friend sitting on the side of the field, grinning. Chet trotted forward and stopped just in front of the little dragon. He chuffed softly, not even out of breath after such physical exertion. Matt smiled and then shook his head in disbelief.

"Shoot, Chet, you really are amazing! I can't imagine any other farmer who could even think about doing that without a tractor. What happened to it anyway?"

"Stupid piece of garbage tractor!" Chet snorted angrily and slipped the yoke over his mighty shoulders, laying it gently on the ground. He walked over to the side of the field and sat in the cool shady grass with his friend.

"I brought the tractor out of the shed. It sputtered, then revved, then died. I looked in the engine compartment and couldn't see anything loose. I checked the fuel tank and everything was as it should be. Too bad I'm not a mechanic!" Chet consciously omitted the last part of his reflection, but Matt grinned and filled in the missing information.

"So, you got a bit frustrated and tipped the whole tractor over, hmm?" Matt gave Chet's arm a little nudge with his elbow. Chet blushed and folded his ears a bit as he nodded.

"Yeah, I know I ... I have to watch my temper sometimes. I was fairly gentle. I actually lifted it on its side and set it like that, thinking that maybe I could get a better look underneath." He hoped that Matt would buy that additional information. Either way, the topic was dropped.

"Guess what I heard, big guy." Matt seemed genuinely enthused about the news he'd heard just on the radio in the car coming over this morning.

"What did you heard, .... little guy?" Chet nudged his dragon friend back playfully. He meant no offense by his choice of words, and the two friends knew each other well enough to know that it was true.

"Those strongfur contests you love watching so much. Well, they're holding one segment of the contests in town next weekend! Wanna go see? Maybe your hero George will be there."

Chet's eyes lit up as he jumped to his hooves and did a silly little dance showing how excited he was at the news.

"I can't wait. We gotta get tickets, Matt! Where do we get them from?

"Don't worry, stud. I'll take care of that. Looks like you have a bit of work to get through before the day is done. What is this, 20 acres?"

"Yeah, it's actually 23 acres. I think I can get this field done by myself by the afternoon, if I get to it now, and stop dilly-dallying."

"Hehe. Ok, big guy. I won't hold you up anymore. Get back to work." Matt grinned and started off to his car to go take care of the tickets in town. Chet once again trotted back to his yoke and lifted the huge leather harness, slipping it over his massive shoulders and grunted, pulling the massive plow behind him, breaking into that casual trot once again. His energy now picked up just thinking about the strongfur contest coming so close to him.

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"You want to do what? Why the hell would you take the chance with the audience's safety. This stuff can be dangerous! Lifting heavy weights without the correct technique is life-threatening. How could you be sure the audience would even qualify?" George's face was turning red from screaming so much. He thought the proposal of allowing even more contestants that he didn't even know was a foolish idea. Not only that, but the fact that he knew all of the normal strong fur contestants that he would go up against, and could basically plan where he needed to have a win in an event. Now that the option of having an audience participation component entered the equation, George couldn't prepare himself. He'd actually have to rely on his pure strength.

"First off, this is MY contest! You are just a contestant, and although you've been crowned World's Strongest Fur for four years in a row convincingly, don't think that you can't be replaced just because I want to!" The pudgy boar asserted himself against the massive horse in front of him.

"Now, if you'd calm yourself down, and listen to the rationale behind this little change. George, we love you. You have lots of lucrative sponsors and you're super popular, but we have to face the facts that you've been champ for a long time. No one even comes close to your strength in the world of this sport. You're the only one who can even budge the heavy Atlas stone in the stones event. No one can even wrap their arms around that thing. For the reason that you've been champ, and no one really has a chance to beat you, the audiences are losing interest. We're not making any more money in this. We want to have you as the champion of the sport, of course, but we have to stir up the interest again. Let's make something fresh. Right champ? Doesn't that sound reasonable?"

George listened. His ears perked every time the fat boar flattered or stroked his ego with compliments. By the end of the sales pitch, George found himself nodding as he seemed to be prepared to go along with the idea. He reached his huge, strong hand over to the boar's outstretched mitt. They shook together. George grinned and put a little bit of extra strength into the handshake as the boar cringed noticably. He tried to hide the pain, but George knew. He was the strongest fur after all. And he would continue to be. They just had to stir up some more interest. That would actually mean that he'd be able to get more action. His smile widened at the thought of servicing his ego and libido, too.

True to his word, Matt had arranged to get the tickets for him and Chet to attend the strongfur show the next weekend. They both pulled up in Chet's truck and headed to the entrance gate. Matt presented the tickets and the gate attendant took one look at Chet and his eyes widened hugely. As Chet passed by, the attendant gave Chet a little pat on his back. Chet barely noticed the touch, but the attendant had put a little red sticker on Chet's shirt. This, the attendant did to a number of the larger, potentially stronger audience members as they passed through the gate. Nevertheless, Chet and Matt found their way inside and found a place where they thought would be a good vantage point, close to the stage and all the events that would take place that afternoon.

Chet was almost vibrating with excitement.

"Gosh, Matt, I've never been to one of these things before. Look at all these people in the audience. Some of them are really big too."

"So it would seem. But I wouldn't want to be with any of them. You're the nicest big guy"

Chet blushed and folded his ears shyly and patted his dragon friend on his shoulder lightly.

"You're too sweet," Chet continued to blush.

"I know," Matt grinned.

The crowd finally settled in for the contest and a burly ox took centre stage. Chet recognized him as the head judge for all the major strongfur contests.

"Ladies and gentlefurs. Welcome to the USFC presented by Monnehy Promotions. This contest will be slightly unique in that it is the first one where the rules are slightly different. May I ask all the official contestants to the stage, please.

A line of five impressive strongfurs lined up facing the audience and looking to the judge curiously. Royal George was there, too! Chet beamed excitedly.

"Well, I guess we know that your idol is here, eh Chet?" Chet nodded and gave a little excited squeal, trying to remain planted in his seat.

"Contestants, this show will feature the usual competition, but at any given time, you are permitted to challenge any hecklers you wish to from the audience. Let's see them put their money where their mouths are. In addition, at any time, a member of the audience may be allowed to challenge one of the strongfurs in a contest. This will count in official standings for the USFC, the Universal Strong Fur Collective. Do you all understand?"

A quick hush surrounded the arena. It seemed like all individuals, contestants and audience alike, were stunned. Then the contestants hollered and pounded their mighty chests pumping themselves up for the new competition. The audience watched with new interest. Some of the members looked around and wondered if any fur would be bold enough to get involved. Only time would tell of course.

The judge continued to explain after the hollering and excitement settled down. "If an audience member should prove to be successful in a challenge, he will remain in the contest. Should he fail at his challenge, he will not be permitted to any further events. Judges' discretion prevails. Understood?"

A loud ringing "YES" erupted from the entire arena.

"Then let's get this contest under way!" The first event will be the Hercules Hold. The audience once again cheered.

George surveyed the audience quietly. Strangely, he thought, there was only one other horse present. Thousands of people watching and he'd only managed to inspire one other stallion to come and cheer him on. He locked eyes with Chet, and as soon as Chet noticed, he averted his eyes and folded his ears. George's muzzle curled in a grin as he knew this fairly well-muscled stallion was going to be easy to beat once he challenged him. He turned back and walked off stage to get ready for the first event.

First contestants included a huge bull, and his job was to hold two semis parked on 30-degree ramps. The bull, known as Stanislov, took his position and squeezed firmly on the handholds. The order was given to release the brakes on the trucks. Stanislov grunted and his arms tightened, Almost immediately his arms and body began to shake, but his strong grip held out for 15 seconds. Truly this was a herculean task. Stanislov hunched forward, exhausted after the effort, pumping his fist in the air, causing a loud cheer from the audience.

Next to the stand was a huge tiger, named Pugat. His gut hung over the tight lifting belt and stretched the lifting singlet to its maximum, but he looked immensely powerful. He stepped in and took his hold. The brakes were released slowly as the tiger held the trucks in place for an incredible 34 seconds! The audience cheered loudly as the tiger slumped forward.

At this point a boisterous tiger from the crowd jumped up and shouted, "Oh c'mon Tiger. You gotta show up better than that. This is weak-ass shit! I challenge that time!" The audience member jumped to the aisle and jogged up to the stage. The host enquired about the audience- member's name, then announced it to the audience as Ronar. The stagehands fitted the muscular tiger with some lifting safety equipment and the cocky feline stepped in, taking his hold. He looked over at Pugat and sneered.

The brakes were slowly released as the audience member's muscles bulged hugely. He was definitely a supremely muscular specimen, but his arms and body began shaking almost immediately. Ronar grunted and groaned, trying desperately to hold the massive weight in his hands, but suddenly he released the grips and clutched his hands to his chest. He looked up at his time. 10 seconds was how long his eternity lasted. Pugat simply grinned and pumped his fist proudly in the air, while Ronar was escorted off the stage.

"How about a huge hand for the first participant under our new rules, folks. He's got one impressive body, but those muscles are more for show, than for strength, eh?"

Pugat's 34-second time wasn't equaled until Royal George stepped confidently to the stage. He flexed his chest, which rippled with thick muscle, and his arms bulged. He grinned and surveyed the audience one last time, then stepped in, took his grip, and waited. The audience breathlessly watched as well. The brakes released with a soft squeak, and George's arms bulged with power. He held the trucks in place for more than a minute solid, then just to emphasize, he started curling his massive arms inward and showed his pure horse power by curling the tonnes of angled weight slowly once. Because of the incredible effort, George grunted the whole time highlighted by a powerful whinny at the full contraction of his muscle in the curl. The truck brakes were once again applied as George pumped his fist arrogantly in the air. He wasn't even winded. The audience looked on with pure awe at George. Who would ever want to challenge that stallion, they seemed to think.

Back stage, U.S. Monnehy walked up to the big stallion and glared at him. "I told you to make this interesting. At least try to make people think they might have a chance against you. Good God what was that you big lug? Showing off like that. You put the audience into a total state of awe and disbelief. I'll grant you that even I didn't know you were that strong, but for Christ's sake, man. We gotta pump up the interest, not your fucking EGO!" U.S still glared at the big stallion. George remained calm, then looked back at the audience remembering that he'd probably only attracted one stallion to the show.

"Ok, you're the boss. I think I found someone to challenge."

The audience left their seats and went outside to get their refreshments while the contestants took a necessary breather before the next event.

Later on, when everyone was back where they needed to be, the judge announced the next event - the Firetruck pull.

"The rules are simple. You strap into the harness here, and pull the firetruck down the laneway 100 meters. The shortest time wins."

First up was Pugat this time. His time was a respectable two minutes and 10 seconds. He huffed to the finish line, completely exhausted. Then it was the big elephant's turn. Momaby, from central Africa, was enormous, and barely fit in the harness, but once he was set, he lurched forward with ease, and walked with large strides to the finish line in a minute and a half! He squirmed out of the harness and grinned looking at the other contestants. Even George was gonna have to work for this one. George sneered back at Momaby.

Stanislov unfortunately could only pull the truck half way down before his energy was totally spent. He was helped off the field with some assistance. Dhalim, a muscular wolf, stepped in next and lurched. He grunted and finally managed to get the truck moving. Once he put all of his weight into the pull, he picked up speed. Still it was not enough to beat Momaby's time. Finally George was up. He still glared back at the huge elephant, swishing his tail defiantly, taking his place in the harness. Then he lurched forward. His quads ripped with incredible power as he muscled the truck forward, picking up a slow trot until he crossed the finish line in a minute 19 seconds. He stood there, almost completely winded but still pumped his mighty fist in the air, whinnying triumphantly.

After a second of trying to catch his breath, he once again glared at the lone stallion in the audience. Chet tried to avert his eyes, but RG pointed. "I challenge that horse. Beat my time. You think you're all high and mighty because of those muscles you have, small fry. Let's see if they can match up to mine." George snorted and grinned as he tried to egg the other stallion into the challenge with cheap shot comments. The audience ooohed and ahhhhhed wondering if the horse would be daring enough.

Matt looked at Chet. "Well, big guy, you can do this. It's probably lighter than the plow, and you plowed 23 acres before, without even breathing hard hehe"

"I never wanted to get involved in this. I just wanted to marvel at his power up close." Chet looked back at the stage sheepishly, which only ended up feeding George's ego more.

"Well, you have a chance to marvel right up next to him. Maybe you'll get a chance to meet him afterwards." Matt tried to support his friend in whatever he decided here.

Chet looked back at the big taunting stallion and nodded, getting out of his seat cautiously. He walked down to the field and shook George's hand. They both sized each other up. George stood a good two feet taller than Chet. He leered with his head above Chet's, and then tried to pull the smaller stallion close to let their two bodies bump together. Chet, however, was flexing back and managed to pull George harder. George's body lurched forward and crashed against Chet's comparatively compact physique. Finally, the stare-down ended and Chet trotted over to the harness. He got in and pressed slightly against the leather.

The whistle blew and Chet's quad muscles bulged massively and tore through his shorts, which still managed to cling to his legs, but they were torn so much that they revealed the muscles underneath, shredded with unbelievable definition. His entire body managed to flex and pump while the firetruck nearly jumped off the ground with the initial force of Chet's strength. Soon the little stallion picked up a slow trot and crossed the finish line in just over a minute even. The audience erupted in shock, while Matt leaped into the air and flew around in circles hooting and hollering happily for his friend. George simply stared at the little horse angrily. They say "if looks could kill". It was never so true as in the look that George was giving Chet, who calmly removed the harness and started back down to his seat. He blushed at the attention, but the head judge rushed over and pulled Chet back. Matt, meanwhile dropped back down into his seat and smiled hugely at Chet as he was pulled back into the field.

"Congratulations, sir. What is your name?"

"Congratulations? Umm, Chet. Just call me Chet," Chet replied unassumingly.

"Yes, congratulations. You are the first audience member in history to successfully fulfill a challenge from one of the contestants. You are permitted now to be a part of the rest of this contest. Even if you lose any other events, your name is now part of the contest, and your points will now count towards the World's Strongest Fur title this year."

Chet looked back in shock. He blushed and quietly thanked the judge, then went back to the backstage area to be filled in on further details. As he was lead back stage, George looked at the stallion with a new goal ... to utterly humiliate him in front of the world.

"You made me look like an ass. I'm gonna make you look like a loser!" George literally fumed as he walked back stage. The audience was still cheering at the strength they'd just witnessed.

As Royal George got to the entrance to the backstage area, U.S. Monnehy lit a cigar and grinned. "Well, big guy. Not too cocky and arrogant now, are ya? You better not have bitten off more than you can chew with this little pony. Remember, ... muscle doesn't always equal strength. He's got that muscle, but you've got him on size, and true horse power, don't you?"

"You better believe I do. I'm the strongest horse in the world. Can't nobody beat this power." With that, George flexed his huge chest, making a little definition roll across the thick muscle.

"You better not let me down, or you'll be going back to digging ditches in Alabama, where I found you, horsey! Got That? No more luxury, no more worshipping mares. No more fame and fortune and adoration." U.S. stubbed out his half-smoked cigar and turned to walk into the dark corridor.

George stared and looked unsure for the first time in his life. What if he wasn't the strongest fur?

He snorted and walked back to his room alone, mentally preparing for the next day's contest events.

Matt looked up to the stage waiting for Chet to return. The other audience members filed out and Matt was left alone. He walked up to the back stage area and was promptly stopped by a huge liger.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?"

"I was waiting for Chet to come back out. He's my friend."

"He never mentioned that he was with anyone. Wait here while I check it out."

Matt glared angrily and kicked at a can in the hallway. "He didn't even tell them he was with someone? Christ I bought the damn tickets. I drove him here. I told him about it. And that's how he repays me?" Matt stood there fuming until the liger walked back.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, ... sir. Chet hadn't been even given a chance to say anything, other than answer questions for the promoters. He sends his apologies and we send ours. Please see him in the second door on the right."

Matt stomped off down the hallway tucking his wings in carefully. He stormed through the door and glared at Chet. "Man, what the hell? I paid for the tickets and drove you here. I supported you to even get up and accept the challenge. And this is what happens?

Chet stood up and folded his ears, blushing and coming over to gently console his friend. "I'm so sorry draggy. They wouldn't even let me say anything. They just kept giving me questions to get information. I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you or your feelings." He pulled the angry dragon closer to his body and things seemed to calm down.

Jenks, the young representative from Monnehy Promotions, stood up and spoke. "Welcome to the competition, Chet. Watch your back though. George is kind of a sore loser. Nobody's ever beaten him so soundly. I guess he should have tried harder to set an impossible mark."

With that, everyone had left the stallion and dragon alone in the room. Chet continued to blush. Matt fluttered his wings, getting more comfortable as he patted Chet's shoulder softly.

"Sorry for getting all upset. You know how it looked though. They pulled you back here, and left me all by myself out there, not even knowing what was going on. I felt betrayed."

"I know, cutie. I hope things are alright now though. You understand, right?"

"I guess. So anyway, how do you feel? You had a chance to meet George yet? I never realized how big he was, until I saw you standing next to him. Gods, he's huge!" Matt swooned admiringly.

"No, I haven't met him, other than what you saw. Yeah, he's massive. I kinda felt intimidated by him."

"Intimidation is the key, Chet. He's trying to make you feel small, and weak. He held his whole head right above yours, but then he tried to pull you close to bump bodies together, making himself look like the dominant horse. You ended up pulling him almost off his feet. I think you might be a lot stronger than him for sure. We'll have to be careful. Like that fellow said, George is a sore loser. I don't know what that all means."

The next day, Chet and Matt woke up and nuzzled softly. They both emerged from the room rubbing their eyes sleepily. Chet stretched out and nickered softly. When he looked forward, he saw the huge stallion, Royal George glaring back at him. He recoiled in shock.

"Well, pony. I see you're a queer too. Figures. Why else would you focus so much on those pansy-ass muscles and definition? You wanna be the one who gets worshipped by all those fairy furs. You make me sick." George pinned his ears tightly in anger. Chet kept his cool, trying not to be intimidated.

"George, sir. I respect you greatly. You are so strong. And so powerful. Why do you have so much anger against me? You were the one who challenged me. I can't help it if I am so competitive. Good luck to you, sir." Chet walked back into his room with Matt close behind.

George looked out of the door to the stage and saw the arena completely packed. There were a few more stallions there in the audience. Some of the members were holding up signs cheering on the smaller horse. This made George pin his ears angrily again. The head judge once again welcomed the audience and called the contestants to the stage. Chet stepped out of the door and waited as George walked out. He followed then and timidly took the stage.

As soon as Chet walked through the door, the audience erupted in cheers. Instantly, Chet's ears folded as he blushed and stepped to the opposite end of the stage. He was barely able to look out in the audience, shyly averting his eyes from the attention. Nevertheless, he was introduced specially to the audience and they cheered loudly. Chet took a bow, then went to the back of the stage to await his turn in the contest

The first event of the day is the Keg Toss. The contestant who can throw the keg over the highest height will win the event. The keg can brush the bar, but if it knocks it off, you get only one more attempt. The keg weighs a cool 500 kg. You can use whichever technique you feel comfortable with. First up will be Momaby, testing at the height of 25 feet high.

Momaby stepped up to the platform and looked up. He stood 12 feet tall already and he took his grip on the keg, hoisting it and swinging it at full arm's length, testing the weight he'd need. Then he bent forward and flung the keg easily 5 feet over the bar with perfect technique. The crowd cheered. Chet looked on with caution, since he was easily the shortest contestant.

The rest of the contestants easily met the 25 foot height with room to spare. Finally, Chet stepped up and, using the technique he'd seen every other fur use, he took his grip on the heavy keg, practicing the swing and gauging the weight. He swung forward then flung the keg in the air. It went straight up well over 50 feet high and came straight back down. The audience gasped at the height, and then sighed when the keg didn't go over the bar. Chet blushed deeply as he went up to the keg and pulled it back to the starting position. He bent forward once again and tested the weight, then flung the keg with tremendous strength, it flew under the 25 foot bar and embedded itself in the concrete wall surrounding the arena.

"Lift not good. Chet is eliminated from the event." The audience groaned and complained. Some of them started shouting. "How can you eliminate him, he's clearly much stronger than everyone else there. Look how far that thing went, and how high it went."

"The rules are clear. The keg did not go over the bar at this height. Clearly, Chet needs to get some practice in the technique needed for this event."

Chet nodded and bowed respectfully to the judge and to the audience, stepping back and watching the rest of the contest. George was in a fight against Momaby, the tallest competitor there. Finally, George's strength and technique gave him the highest toss, giving him the win for this event. He pumped his fist triumphantly in the air and bowed to the audience who were still appreciative of George's tremendous power. He'd managed to toss the keg over 40 feet clearly.

The contestants once again returned to their backstage rooms, where Matt was waiting for his friend.

"Gods, you are really strong Chet. George was lucky that you hadn't had a chance to practice for the technique in this event."

"Heh, yeah, I guess so. I don't think I could handle being World's Strongest Fur. There's too much attention and too many requirements for me. I'm not into the popularity stuff, you know. But still, I should have just picked that keg up and shot-putted it over the bar. My aim would have been better. It sounds heavy, but 500 kg is pretty light. Oh well. There must be an event that I can have some fun with like the truck pull. That was fun." Chet murred and smiled, coming over to his dragon friend.

"How much time do you have for a break now?" Matt inquired.

"They told us to be ready in about 15 minutes"

"Awww, not enough time to have some good fun." Matt pouted.

"Maybe later, cutie. If you're a good dragon." Chet stuck his tongue out playfully.

The stage was being set up for the next event. The emptied automobiles had heavy leather straps outfitted in the car. The limousines were lined up side by side down a 50 foot long course. The audience started to file back into the arena and took their seats. The contestants also filed out on to the stage and listened to the head judge's instructions.

"This event is a car race. The Strongfur competitors must step inside the limo and use the reinforced harness to lift the car, balance and then get down to the finish line fastest. The fastest time wins. Understood?"

A huge cheer erupted from the audience as this was one of the favourites of strong fur contests.

The first pair was Dhalim, the muscular wolf and Pugat, the muscular tiger. They both stepped into a limo and pressed against the harness. Both competitors grunting and struggled with the sheer weight of the limos. Both finally managed to lift them, and balance. The race had begun already. Pugat stepped forward and tested the strength of his feet, carefully stepping like it was the first time he'd ever walked, trying with great strength to keep the car from swaying. Dhalim did the same. After a few steps, both the wolf and tiger dropped the car. They took a breath and both strained to pick up the limo again. Pugat made it a total of 15 feet down the course within the time limit of 3 minutes. Dhalim only made it 13 feet down the course. Chet watched and gave both contestants a hearty applause for their monumental effort. The cars were then returned to the starting line. Next up were Stanislov and Chet.

Both contestants stepped forward. Stanislov, the massive bull stood a good 2 feet taller than Chet. Both furs strapped into the harness. Stanislov grunted and lifted his limo without nearly as much trouble as the first two strongfur competitors. Chet pressed against the straps and didn't even grunt. He stood up, but the limo's tires were barely lifted off the ground. Chet's short height was going to prove a definite hindrance here. He managed to balance the car carefully. Almost with each step, one or two wheels touch the ground.

Chet tried to shrug his shoulders, hoping his traps would flex high enough to lift the car higher, but the harness just stretched more around his muscles. He snorted and just gripped the side of the limo, crushing the side of the door and lifting the mass of metal higher so he could walk down the course. By the time he'd solved the issue, Stanislov was already crossing the finishing line. Chet ran carrying the limo in his hands. The audience erupted in massive cheers for the little stallion.

The head judge shook his head disappointingly. He was once again forced to announce that Chet was being disqualified.

"Ladies and gentlefurs, I regret to inform you that Chet is disqualified. The harness in the car must be used to hold the car off the ground. Judging by the crushed metal where Chet's hands were, we are forced to believe that he was using his hands to hold the limo up."

Royal George's lips curled in a triumphant sneer at this news. He wasn't all that worried since Stanislov had already won legitimately in that heat anyway. But the fact that this upstart stallion was looking foolish even without him doing anything, that was enough to make the big horse relish the defeat of his rival.

Chet simply nodded and accepted the judges' ruling. "I'm sorry to the officials. I didn't know that it was part of the rules. My height was a hindrance to me."

The audience booed the judges, but cheered Chet for his humility and grace in accepting the decision. He stood back and watched the final heat between the two big competitors. Royal George and Momaby stepped up to their limos and both harnessed in. At the whistle, both muscle furs lifted their limos. Momaby had a bit of trouble getting his bulk fitted properly. That gave George enough of an edge, which he used to almost run down the length of the course. He won the car lift event handily.

On the sidelines, Chet cheered the loudest for his stallion hero. George simply looked over there and thought that maybe this stallion wasn't so bad after all. He seemed legit. The audience followed Chet's example, however and cheered George's achievement. His time was actually supremely impressive!

Back in the dressing rooms, Matt was waiting for his friend. Chet walked in the room and nickered softly, closing the door behind him. He didn't lock the door though.

"How can I reward my horsey, the uncrowned World's Strongest Fur?" Matt looked back at Chet with that lusty grin on his face.

"Reward me? Why would you reward me? I lost every event today, totally. Last place in one event, and disqualified in the other one. Heh. Pretty funny that they still let me stay in the contest actually." Chet shuffled his hoof shyly and folded his ears with a little bit of embarrassment.

"I still think you're the strongest horse in the world, whether you win this silly contest or not. When you look at how you lost, and how you got disqualified, you'll figure out that you truly are the strongest." Matt grinned and came over to his friend, putting his paw on Chet's thick chest. He looked up and purred softly. Chet blushed deeply as he heard that sexy sound.

"You naughty dragon. You know what that does to me." Chet put his hand over Matt's as it rubbed over the stallion's chest. He slowly flexed and made the deeply-etched lines of sinew spread across the thick, incredibly hard mass. Matt dragged his hand longingly over the stallion's chiseled abdominal muscles, which also got flexed. They were both getting aroused by the stallion's ripped muscles. Chet reached down and lifted his dragon slowly, dragging his body against his own, feeling every ripple and bulge harden. Chet lowered his muzzle and wrapped his soft, thick, velvety lips around Matt's erection, sucking eagerly at the dragon's precum.

"Mmmmmmfff." Chet was only able to mutter that softly from around the dragon's erection as Matt bucked slowly, getting ready to feed his massive stallion with the sweet protein they both knew was good for him. Finally, Matt's balls pulled tightly to his body as wave after wave of thick seed gushed into Chet's hungry muzzle. The big stallion guzzled down the sweet gift eagerly, still suckling at the thrusting dragon's cock wanting every last drop.

"Chet, I just wanted to ..." Royal George stopped and gasped in total shock at the sight. He saw the horse holding the smaller dragon in his arms, and sucking on the little dragon's erection. George coughed and then made a heeving motion like he was going to throw up. Nothing happened, but George simply turned around, closed the door and ran away quickly.

Pulling his muzzle off the dragon's cock slowly, licking it clean as he licked his lips happily, Chet looked back at Matt and grinned. "Well, I got a nice gift, and I think George got a sight that will haunt him for the rest of his life." He laughed loudly, and set Matt down slowly. The two curled up and nuzzled for hours later on, until they both fell asleep.

The next day, George was huddled in his room, rocking back and forth, still haunted by the sight he'd witnessed hours before. He was both disgusted, but also strangely turned on by what he saw. He was tremendously confused. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't gotten any sleep over night. He was incredibly tired, but still had two more events to take part in before being crowned World's Strongest fur for a fifth time. He managed to stand up and make his way out to the stage.

Once again, on the final day of competition, the audience had gathered and were seated quietly, eagerly awaiting the competitors, who then filed out on stage. Chet trotted out with a notable bounce in his step. George was almost dragging his hooves, while the other contestants were acting like their regular selves.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlefurs, to the final day of events before we name the finalists for World's Strongest fur!" The audience once again erupted enthusiastically to the excitement of the day's events.

"Without any further delay, then, let's get to the show. Today's events will feature the bar bending event. And the final test of pure strength will be the Atlas Stones."

"In the bar bending event, all contestants will be asked to bend this two inch thick solid steel bar as far as they can bend it in the time limit"

Each contestant was given a towel to layer on whatever body part they wanted to use to bend the bar around. They were all given an equal length of steel bar, and the clock was started. Dhalim chose to bend the bar around his neck. He grunted and groaned as his muscles bulge massively. The steel bent slowly and after the end of the time ran out, the muscular wolf managed to bend the steel within 20 inches of each end.

Pugat chose the same fashion of bending around his neck, but his greater strength managed to bend the steel to within 12 inches of each end.

Both contestants were completely exhausted. They dropped their bars heavily to the ground. Momaby chose to use his knee to start bending. Then around his neck, he managed to get the ends to within 6 inches of each other.

George bent the bar around his neck as well, and got the ends touching each other. He snorted proudly and pumped his fists triumphantly in the air

Chet held the bar out at arm's length and flexed his massive chest, the muscles shredded and the bar began to bend, steadily forming a horseshoe shape, until Chet bent the bar until the ends touched as well. He nickered softly and ruffled his mane playfully.

The judges all looked astonished at each other. They'd never had a tie in this event before. The rules stated that there had to be a clear winner. Chet raised his hands and offered a suggestion.

"What about using a steel girder? See if either of us could bend one of those."

"No. Absolutely not! Why don't we just see which of us can bend this bent bar in half again." George looked like he was sure of himself there. Chet simply nodded.

George placed the towel over his knee and then started bending the bar in half again. His muscles worked harder than ever as he snorted and grunted with the effort. He managed to bend the bar to within 5 inches of the ends this time. A super strong effort, no doubt.

Chet, once again, not using the towel to bend the bar, simply clamped his strong hands tightly, crushing the bar under his hands as his chest flexed and shredded. The little powerful stallion bent the twinned steel bar clearly in half, the ends touching each other again. He nickered softly and smiled warmly.

The audience went wild that the smaller horse proved his strength there. George seethed with hatred at the smaller, gay horse. He threw down the bar and stormed off stage, having come in second. Chet watched and blushed a bit at the reaction of his idol. He then looked over at his friend Matt who was grinning from ear to ear proudly, hovering a few feet off the ground. The rest of the contestants filed off stage. Each one of them giving Chet a congratulatory chuck on his shoulder at the win. The audience went wild for a short time, but then filed out for refreshments.

In George's room, U.S. Monnehy was waiting. "I don't want to hear it Monnehy. I know that he's an upstart. He's even managed to get the crowd behind him. I'm gonna make him look like a total loser. Just wait till the Atlas Stones. It's MY event. No one, not even some fucking fag of a horse with ungodly strength can beat me there!" George thought about what he'd just said.

"He is stronger than you, George. It's been pretty clear that his physical strength is just well beyond yours. You're just lucky that he's a gracious loser, and he hasn't had the practice at these events. That's the only way you're actually going to win. So unless Chet really does fail at the Stones, you've probably had your last title win." Monnehy then stared at the big horse.

"I thought you wanted me to keep being strongest fur. You miserable traitor!" George leered at the fat boar and pinned his ears back threateningly.

"Now don't get your drawers in a bunch. Of course, I want you to be my corporate rep. I can't have some soft-spoken fag horse representing my company of strength and muscle athletes! So here's what you're going to do. You're going to go back out there and win the Atlas Stones. I'll take care of the rest." With that, Monnehy turned and left the room. George was so confused. He didn't know what to make of this situation anymore.

The stones were placed in front of the stands. Each one was labeled with the weight they represented. The smallest stone weighed 400 kg. The fifth stone was a monumental 2000 kg. This was the ultimate test for strongfur competitions.

The contestants filed back out on the stage. Dhalim and Pugat were the first to compete. Both of them rushed to the first stone. Dhalim's nose flinched as he smelled something unusual, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He and Pugat grunted and wrapped their muscular arms around the huge stone, hoisting it to the shorter platform. Then they moved on to the second stone - 700 kg. It was a dead heat between them as they both grunted heavily and hoisted the weight up to the platform. Dhalim moved faster to the third stone, hoisted and barely got the stone on to the taller platform. Pugat followed quickly behind. Dhalim couldn't lift the 1100 kg third stone. He growled angrily and pounded his fist on the stone that proved too much. Pugat grunted and muscled the huge weight up and onto the platform. As he moved to the fourth stone, the time ran out. He growled as well, but since he was totally exhausted, he just moved to the back of the stage.

Stanislov and Momaby were up next. Both of the contestants managed to make it to the fourth stone. Both of them were able to move the 1500 kg weight, but only Momaby was strong enough to get it up to his knees. His own girth worked against him as he couldn't get a solid grip. Then the time limit sounded and both contestants took their place to watch the final heat, between George and the upstart Chet.

Chet and George made their way to the starting area. The buzzer sounded, and both stallions leapt at the first stone. With lightning speed, George hoisted the weight and placed it on the platform. Chet matched speed and strength until the third stone. George grunted at the third stone, but hoisted it in his massive arms, muscling it up and onto the platform. Chet had actually put his third stone up first, and was grunting, trying to get his arms around the fourth stone's bulk. Being a shorter horse, he just simply had to clamp down with his strong fingers, which he did. He snorted defiantly and hoisted the stone up, putting it up on the platform that was nearly as tall as he was. He looked over and George was already on his fifth stone. He'd seen George compete before. He knew that George was the only horse who'd ever been able to get the fifth stone up. Nevertheless, he moved to the fifth stone, setting and pressing against it, he couldn't get a solid grip. His strong fingers kept slipping as he flexed against the solid rock. He looked over at George who was actually having trouble with his fifth stone. The audience's cheers filled Chet's ears, urging him on. He grunted and snorted defiantly. His ears pinned as he was literally getting mad at the boulder. His muscles bulged hugely and suddenly the air was filled with a crackling sound. The little stallion was literally crushing the 2000 kg stone in his hands. George whinnied triumphantly as he managed to get the massive stone up on his platform. He turned to see Chet, still hunched forward and literally crushing that boulder in his hands. George's jaw dropped in pure awe. Chet snorted one last time and with a massive burst of pure strength, the boulder exploded in a cloud of dust and rubble. Chet jumped back in surprise. He blushed deeply, ears now folded in embarrassment.

George and the audience fell hush in shock at the sight. Chet stepped back and nodded to his stallion idol softly, He reached out his hand to shake George's, congratulating him on the victory.

"Congratulations, Royal George. You are ... The World's Strongest Stallion! Good luck in the final events." Chet said with great humility, trying to pump up his idol once again, and take the focus off of himself at the same time.

George was still awe-struck. The audience cheered excitedly. George looked at the little horse and he nodded softly to him. George then lifted Chet's hand in the air triumphantly. Chet blushed deeply and tried to almost hide behind his big stallion idol. George wouldn't allow it though, making sure that he gave Chet credit for his awesome strength.

The audience cheered for both stallions equally. George had once again won over the crowd seeing that they knew that he was actually a gracious competitor, and not just some arrogant muscle horse.

Chet watched the awards presentation. He came in third having won two of the events. Momaby came in second, and George was in first place. Everything was the way it should be.

Back in the backstage area, Chet and Matt packed up some of the things they had brought along, and Chet collected his meager winnings from the contest. He split his winnings with Pugat and Stanislov, who did this for a living. They both appreciated the gesture.

Back at the farm, Chet grinned and looked over at Matt. "You wanted to yiff George, didn't you?"

Matt blushed deeply. "Was it that obvious? I can't help it. He's just massive, and he's gorgeous."

"George gave me his telephone number afterwards. He said that he was oddly aroused seeing us together, and needs some time to think about where he stands. Maybe he'll come around and we can help him find where he stands on the issue." Chet grinned and nuzzled his dragon, lifting him in his strong arms, cradling him against his mighty chest. The stallion playfully bounced the thick, ripped muscles for his dragon's amusement.

"How could I want another stallion. You're the strongest fur alive, Chet"

Chet blushed deeply and shuffled his hoof. It seemed a suitable way to end the evening.

(To be continued in "Gift Horse")