The Bet (Brigitte/D.Va Overwatch) - Commission [5K Words]

First story commission in a few years is up! I had very much wanted to get it finished this month, and have already gone way over the original 3000 words intended, so here's what we have so far. Let me know what you think, if you want more, and what you want to see! I will be doing more story commissions in future, but I'll be changing the way I do them.

Contains: Muscle, Yuri, BDSM, Working Out, Effort, Sweat

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The Bet

 Firm, round glutes shrink-wrapped in black, shin-length leggings trembled, barely an inch from the wooden laminate floor of the gym. Above them a trail of shimmering brown hair only partly covered a tight waist and the criss-crossed back of a stylish sports bra. Above that, a pair of trim, squared shoulders flexed into a heavy metal bar that looked far too large for the petite young woman squatting low beneath it - even before counting the multiple weight plates loaded onto each side. Hana Song tilted her head down, a bead of sweat dripping from her button nose. She clenched her teeth and pushed the burning mass that was her thighs to go harder, and she slowly started to rise.

 Her high pitched grunts were desperate, an undignified squeak at the end something that she couldn't quite hold back despite her best efforts. She was pink faced - almost the same colour as the smudged make-up around her cheeks and pained tears made her almost black eyes glisten. Soon she was stood tall, the barbell across her shoulders wobbling with the momentum of the stopping weight. The clear stiffness in her body was a sign of just how much pressure was bearing down on her, and her quick, shallow breaths made her tight six-pack pulse.

 A few steps behind her and stood with her bulging arms crossed, Brigitte Lindholm watched on in a kind of dreamy bliss. By rights, she should have seemed domineering. Large built, thighs like tree trunks squeezing the life out of her gym shorts and a sleeveless hoodie exposing her buff biceps. The Swedish girl's expression undercut her threatening physique. Her girlfriend of the last year still absolutely enraptured her, and that feeling was never stronger than during times like this. Times when it was clear that Hana was squatting far deeper, far heavier than necessary just to show off her progress. The pair had been grinding at the gym during most of their free time during the last year, and while Brigitte was currently in the best shape of her life, it was Hana who had utterly transformed from trim girl obsessed with gaming to a hard-bodied powerhouse who was still, naturally, obsessed with gaming. Brigitte was stood behind Hana of course, but the wall-length mirror in front of Hana very much exposed the formers lustful gaze.

 "Eyes up here, Briggy!" Hana called, cheerfully. Her voice was strained and a little raspy from two hours of shouting and grunting and groaning. The larger girl quickly jumped into action and came forward to relieve Hana of the bar and help get it back onto the rack.

 "That's it, you're done!" she announced, proudly. Every time Brigitte set up a training session for her girlfriend, she tried to account for the rapid improvement in Hana's strength and form, and every time, it seemed she had been thoroughly outstripped by the petite girl's unyielding determination. "Hm?" she peered at Hana's reflection in the mirror with mild confusion, as Hana had moved away from her attempt to take back the bar.

 "That's it? I'm done?" even through the straining voice, Brigitte could pick up a petulant tone. "You're taking it easy on me again!"

 "Pff.. no I'm not - look, you can barely walk." Brigitte reached forward more firmly and took the bar from Hana, who staggered forward on shaky legs. On racking it, she moved closer, but Hana stepped away again, "You know not many people could pull off that workout - that was intense!" this did force a smirk from Hana, who quickly hid it behind her hair.

 "Well, duh." she admitted, but then she turned fully into Brigitte and pointed. She had a fearless ferocity despite staring down a girl over a foot taller and three times as broad. "But you train yourself so much harder than me! I've seen it! You treat me like I'm different, like I'll break just because I'm smaller!" Frustration and a certain amount of exhaustion induced mania had taken the filter off a concern that she had for a long time.

 After a long pause, where Brigitte couldn't quite make eye contact, she muttered, "I'm afraid of hurting you..." - the truth was, many of Hana's training sessions were intensified by the girls own additions - extra reps, deeper reps, heavier weights. Sometimes, beneath such monstrous conditions, her petite girlfriend looked almost... fragile.

 "And you don't take the same care with yourself! I've seen you go as hard as you can, really hit your limit, faint or puke, everything in between and you love it!" she was still out of breath, and even with her face dripping with sweat and messy strands of hair sticking to it, she was beautiful to Brigitte. The larger girl was speechless, and after a few moments, Hana seemed to recompose herself. She pulled a hairtie out of her bra and pulled her hair back. Her triceps jutted out, perky breasts pushed forward and her abs popped as she arched slightly. This didn't help Brigitte find words.

 "That's it. I'm starting over." Hana said sharply, and she started to move to the static bike that she had first sat on over two hours ago. Her strides were long, but it was clear her legs were very stiff. "If you won't give me a hard workout, I'll just do it twice!"

 This kicked Brigitte's brain into gear again, "There's no way!"

 Hana was already pedalling.

 Brigitte frowned, "I've been training twenty years - of course I go harder than-"

 A couple of sharp beeps cut her off as Hanna cranked up the bike's resistance from its electric dashboard. Hana leaned forward and sped up her pedalling.

 "When.. I.. finish..." she gasped, wiping sweat from her forehead, "I want... a reward..."

 "Hm?" Brigitte had already, by instinct, moved to her usual position behind Hana, though was ready to catch her at any moment in case she collapsed from the bike.

 "You." Hana replied. Maybe it was her raspy pants, or maybe she sounded absolutely terrifying. "Dusk to.. dawn. Anything... everything... I... ask."

 Ominous. The last time Hana had her way with Brigitte, she had been turned into a shock-toy. But also, impossible. So Brigitte nodded, "Deal. And if you don't finish, you do my sessions that are actually, you know... possible."

 That sharp beep of the static bike dashboard sounded again.

 The next hours involved a display of the most bull-headed determination that Brigitte had seen in her life. Hana would break down in tears, only to have a second wind and power through an exercise before heading for the next one with no hesitation, the cycle starting again. She didn't look at Brigitte very much, apart from to decline and chastise any offers for assistance. Hana was so thoroughly out of breath that she was heaving for air from the moment she stepped off the bike after half an hour of furious cycling, and she stayed that way for the rest of the session. Every step, every rep, every fall was punctuated by that hard, loud panting.

 The cycling moved seamlessly into a cardio-abs combo, with alternating mountain climbers and bicycle crunches. Hana's tight, blocky six-pack abs slid against each other, soaked in sweat and squeezed at each side by firm, defined oblique muscles over her ribs. She rolled over leaving a sweat puddle behind and fumbled to adjust her bra-strap and waistband as she went to the pull-up bar. It took three attempts to jump up and grab it. If Hana had a weak point - it was her upper body. The girls core was excellent, and with squats she was a natural. Arms and shoulders, however, she had to work hard for. Somehow she stayed up on that bar for three sets of 15 slow, gruelling pull-ups. The L-sit she held the whole way through, Brigitte was sure, had not been part of the original workout.

 Falling to her knees as she dropped, Hana hunched over her shaking, cramped hands, but stood once more. The ever present panting had a sense of hunger in it. She looked at the leg curl machine like it was her prey.

 It was the leg curl machine that started her crying, and the leg extension machine that started her bawling. This indignity only seemed to make her push harder and eventually, even the tears seemed to burn away. Her first rotation of this exercise had taken almost two hours, and this one, slower, more desperate had taken over two and a half. During a later mammoth set of burpees Hana looked like a clumsy marionette, eyes distant as her mouth hung open. But she never stopped moving. At long last, she crawled her way to the squat rack. Brigitte watched her pass - herself having sunk to her knees. She had resigned herself to simply watch as an overstimulated pile of lesbian lust.

 Hana pressed her shoulders to the loaded bar and wailed as she took the weight, limping just clear of the rack. Spittle flew from her mouth as she panted through gritted teeth, hissing, "S-s-six m-more!" she lowered herself so deep that her butt brushed the ground, and screamed over several seconds of her astonishing lift, crying out her count at the very end of a successful rep. Again and again, slower, quieter, more breathlessly...

 Suddenly, Hana looked very small. Squatted, shivering, panting and sobbing. A huge, unwieldy weight crushing the poor girl and as she heaved for her last rep, she simply didn't move. Brigitte rushed over - if Hana dropped the weight like this she could be seriously hurt. She had to put a stop to this. She had to...

 As she reached Hana, she barely recognised her own voice.

 "You lift that fucking weight right now!" as Brigitte roared, Hana visibly flinched and looked up. Her face was tear and sweat streaked, red as a strawberry. Brigitte glared into it, and pulled her hoodie over her head.

 The towering athlete didn't so much wear her gym clothes as spill out of them. Her simple black sports bra was tightly wrapped around her broad chest and firm breasts. But it was her stomach that made Brigitte look like a monster with her shirt off. Brigitte's core bulged with thick muscle, bowing out from her insignificant sportswear with thick plates of muscle that remained defined even with her size. So dense and closely packed were the muscles that even her navel was a distinct outie, a singular soft spot forced out amidst a bulging convex washboard.

 "You want this, right? You want big-girl workouts? So stop whining and lift that fucking bar!" Brigitte was panting hard now, too.

 Hana somewhat obeyed... she didn't whine. She screamed. She started to rise over what felt like hours of sustained effort and pain, but must have only been seconds. As she rose the close up canvas of Brigitte's body revealed itself to her, and as her yell was exhausted, so was her rep, and so was her breath. Brigitte smoothly caught the bar and racked it as Hana fainted, clutching helplessly at the larger girls waist before sinking to the ground.

 After a few minutes of delirium and desperate gulps of water, Hana had slightly composed herself, if not moved from her prone position, gazing dreamily up at Brigitte.

 "I'm sorry..." Brigitte sighed, guilty, concerned, horribly turned on. "I don't know what came over me."

 "It's fine." Hana said, her voice sing-song, "It's nothing compared to what I'm gonna do to you."

 Her strut away to the showers was slightly hampered by her near inability to walk. Just as she was about to disappear behind the doorframe she turned back to Brigitte, who had been following her, "Where do you think you're going?"

 Brigitte looked more surprised and embarrassed than she deserved to be, "I uh... to help you... shower?" she had a look of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Hana beamed, shaking her head.

 "Not this time - I need that, that, that aaand... that-" she pointed to a few stacked plates, kettlebells, barbells, "downstairs in my workshop, pronto. Meet me there in a few hours, and wear something nice." she flashed an even wider grin as she disappeared around the edge of the doorframe, and a few second later, Brigitte heard the hiss of the showers. She was left to imagine her slim, toned girlfriend stripping out of her sweaty gym-wear.

 The orange hue of dusk didn't make it into Hana's workshop, only the blueish artificial lighting and its accompanying hum. A sub-basement a few floors beneath the gym, it was a large, single high-ceiling room with her MEKA parked up in front of a huge metal hatch. The walls were light grey concrete, the floor a lighter hue, many spots riddled with burns and bullet holes from various equipment tests. The ceiling was high, with metal bars, chains and rigging criss-crossed meters above the ground, and multiple desks were filled with trinkets and equipment. The mech was not the only piece of machinery - various robotic parts and structures. Much of it made no sense to Brigitte, who was far more familiar with more rugged instruments and engineering projects.

 It would have been a dull, clinical room if it weren't for the scattering of pink and purple furnishings, much of it bunny rabbit and K-pop themed that Hana had brought in to make this place a home. Hana's head popped out from behind a human sized rabbit plushie a few feet away, "Um, I thought I told you to wear something nice?"

 "Yeah?" Brigitte shrugged, holding out her hands and looking down. Her favourite old, oil smeared tank-top hung loosely over her shoulders and chest, comfiest black sports bra beneath it. Sweatpants sat low on her hips, and covered just a little of her worn trainers. These were the nicest clothes she owned. She loved these...

 Hana gave a pitying smile and pointed. "Off. And off. And those too." and once Brigitte was before her in nothing but her tight bra and the stretched black panties that could barely contain her glutes, Hana seemed satisfied. "I can work with this. And you can work with these, to start." she deftly threw a jump-rope to Brigitte who, after receiving an expectant look from Hana, took it as a signal to start jumping. The large, heavy young woman jumped surprisingly quickly, though Hana demanded she speed up until she was at a frantic pace, with only time for sharp breaths between jumps. Brigitte was broad, her body thick and powerful buts till so defined that there was little bounce in her when she jumped up and down. Hana particularly admired the split second of each landing, where her whole body would flex under the sudden pressure with bulging definition. It became an even more delicious sight as it started to shine with her sweat.

 Brigitte was built for strength more than endurance and at this near maxed-out speed, she was panting heavily. Now and then she would glance at Hana, hoping to be allowed to stop or break, only to be met with a sly shake of the head. But the mechanic was stoic, and would only return her gaze forward, swallow, and keep jumping as her lungs burned. It took half an hour for Hana to simply say, "Stop." at which point the jumprope immediately fell from Brigitte's slick hands. The panting girl doubled over, hands on her swollen thighs and her chest heaving. Sweat dripped from her nose and chin. She didn't even notice Hana walk behind her, not until she heard a swish in the air and felt a sharp, stinging pain across her backside.

 "Stand up straight!" Hana barked, her voice high but nonetheless authoritative and intimidating. Brigitte snapped up to attention, instinctively covering her bottom with her hands and turning around. She felt a simultaneous cold chill, and a thrill of excitement. Her girlfriend as looking up at her, a riding crop in her hands that was pressed to her lips. She ran her tongue slowly up the slim shaft, looking at Brigitte as though she were prey. "Turn back around, tough girl..." she said. Brigitte did as ordered. The back of her neck was tingling. She held her shoulders up, tense. Her heart was pounding. She could hear the crop being flexed and turned in Hana's hands. "That's one for failing to stand up straight after a set. One more for not thanking your Coach for the exercise. Two for not responding 'Yes Coach' to the two orders I gave, and another for looking back at me without permission. Understand?"

 A game, a test of strength, of endurance, of pain, of obedience... Hana knew how to take things to the next level. But Brigitte had been putting her body through its paces day in, day out for a decade or more. This was one more challenge for it to beat, so she firmly replied, "I understand." and as Hana opened up her mouth again, Brigitte quickly added, "Coach."

 Then, she put her hands behind her back, treating her girlfriend to the sight once again, and Hana was entranced by the sudden clench of those firm, round glutes. She ran her tongue over her lips, pulled her hand back and lashed, lashed, lashed, then once more. Four angry red welts joined the first across the freckled skin, and Brigitte's body gave an intimidating twitch with each one. Hana opened her mouth to speak, but her words were caught. Why hadn't Brigitte made a single sound?

 "Thankyou, Coach." Brigitte said. She was still panting softly from the cardio. "I am meant to say that after each test, right?"

 Hana was suddenly very aware of a weakness in her own legs, and the light pressure of her tight suit between them. She moved to Brigitte's front, then put the riding crop tip to her navel and pushed. "You know, I have hours and hours to break you, right?" the crop bent before Brigitte's abs sank in even slightly.

 "You better hurry up then." Brigitte stared her down even through the sharp smack to her left oblique muscles, and again added, "Coach."

 The girl wasn't wrong, and Hana knew it. Hours upon hours of training was nothing unusual, so this had to be all the more intense. A woman like Brigitte... she needed to be worn down before she was broken. She had to move quickly and so she did, next coming to the girl with thick, metallic cuffs. They weren't connected to each other, but were large, uncomfortable and moulded to almost exactly fit her subject. She attached one to each wrist and each ankle.

Brigitte inspected the cuffs. There didn't seem to be any features to them, any holes for ropes or chains that one might expect after being put in cuffs by a very dedicated pervert. "What are these for?" she asked.

Hana leaned back in her chair and lazily hit a few computer keys with one hand, "It's so these can hold you in place without breaking your bones."

"Whoa!" Brigitte howled in shock as a set of machinery, previously unassuming amongst the shop floor clutter, sprung to life suddenly at each side of her. Robotic arms, each with a trio of clawed extremities on the end of each snapped out of her. They each took an arm and a leg and hauled their victim a few feet of the ground, completely spread-eagled.

"We use these to adjust the plating on the MEKAs. It's simple enough, if you're me. Just some reprogramming to tell them what body shape to expect. That and some pre-set positi-oops!" she very deliberately hit a certain combination of keys that dragged Brigitte's legs into a very uncomfortable split, before back into the 'X' position - "my bad, that one's for later."

 "P-pretty impressive!" Brigitte gulped, not too proud of how her voice came out.

 "Test it out for me, babe, I want to check the resistance on it first."

 A small sigh, and a flush. Brigitte knew well that she couldn't bend metal - not without an anvil and some heat at least. Still, she could try. She had made a promise to obey. "Yes, Coach. Hnk!!" she let out a loud grunt, grit her teeth, hunched her shoulders, and shut her eyes.

 Hana idly let the riding crop drift between her own legs as she leaned back on her seat, eyes widening, pupils dilating, she was drinking this in. The gear tattoo on the bound woman's shoulder rippled and warped as the sinews of muscle bulged around it. This shockwave of definition rand own her arm, a balled up bicep exploding with a thick vein across it. Her chest muscles jumped, sports bra tightening and stretching around both her pecs and her wing-like lats. Her abs and obliques fired too, her concave stomach jutting out but keeping thick, blocky definition as the girl tried to pull with both arms and both legs like an extreme, full body crunch. As the pressure mounted she started to shake and grunt, holding herself under extreme pressure for several seconds before relaxing and falling limp with a gasp, though neither she nor the machinery around her moved. She attempted this three or four times, before Hana cleared her dry throat and gave another order.

 "One more time! And this time... I'll tell you when you can stop."

 Brigitte solemnly nodded, rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and flexed with the full intention of pulling the claws holding her apart to shreds.

 Five full minutes later, she was still there, suspended, shaking, dripping, panting and moaning. The girl had kept her eyes shut, and a vein was throbbing on her flushed forehead and neck. Two more coiled around her biceps like snakes, joining rivers along her forearms. It was all twitching and trembling but holding and constantly flexing as the lactic acid build up across her entire body made her muscles feel like bursting, boiling rocks. She could only barely hear the gasps and moans of Hana as though from a long distance away until..

 "Ah.. hah.. okay! That's enough!"

 Brigitte would have crumped to the floor but the bindings kept her in place. As she panted her abs bulged in and out, threatening and violent. She blinked away teary eyes until she could focus on her girlfriend, who had sunk back more deeply in her chair. Her was pink and shining, and the crop had fallen from her hand to the floor with its handle glistening. Brigitte's exhaustion addled brain almost put the pieces together before Hana was up on her feet. "Looks like it's in working order!" she announced, breathily. She reached out, her small hand taking one full ab brick in its grip, before running her hand up. Her thumb brushed over Brigitte's prominent outie belly button, and Hana had to reach up to take another handful of her chest. The sports bra was clinging on for dear life through her chest pump, her hardened nipple pushing through. "Ready for some real work?" she asked.

 "It's about time.. Coach." Brigitte answered firmly, though feeling dizzy.

 In the brief notes Hana had made while planning this night, the section that followed was labelled "GRIND HER DOWN" in bright red pen. Hana liked to colour code her work.

 True to it's name, Hana put Brigitte to work. A pull-up challenge came first. Three of the arms detached, leaving Brigitte hanging by just one to max out on one armed pull-ups. To Hana's genuine shock, she managed nine with her left arm and eleven with her right, before both were locked into position and she started to mechanically crank them out in a wide grip. The kettlebells came into play here, with Hana kindly passing them for Brigitte to hold between her feet until she hit max reps. They started with a 24kg weight that Hana could hardly lift, only to replace it, on failure, with a very slightly lighter weight. Brigitte's efforts were monstrous and constant. Her grip would have failed long ago, but she didn't need to grip. She just needed to work, and stretch her years of endurance and discipline more than she ever had.

 Free of the final 5 kilogram weight, Brigitte stubbornly took several minutes to fail on a slow, harrowing set of pull-ups just with her bodyweight. She screamed through a final, slow rep before falling limp and shaking her head.

 The two lower arms moved to grab Brigitte's ankles, and applied a light upward pressure. Realising this, Brigitte raised her head.

 "Keep going." the smaller girl ordered, looking up at the much larger, stronger woman yet with utterly more control of the situation.

 "H-Hana?"

 "Or quit. You know. If you can't take it."

 Brigitte's face twitched into something that, if she could think straight, might have been a grin. "I d-don't... quit..." she threw her head back and pulled, and her grunt soon turned into another scream. Her muscular body slowly rose again, with the machinery taking off just enough of her load to let her keep moving. It did this with every following rep.

 Hana only relented when it became clear that the mechanical arms were lifting almost all of her bodyweight. As the machine lowered her girlfriend to the ground and her feet touched the cold floor, Brigitte was ready to take the set of weight plates that Hana had moved to hand to her. She expected nothing less than more.

 Squats, in the same fashion. Feet locked in place on the ground, arms free until the hundreds of reps it took to leave every enormous metal plate discarded in the sweat puddle around her, and Brigitte herself undignified and sobbing in a squat position, unable to move up. The arms took her wrists again, and 'helped' her through another few hundred squats. Brigitte remembered just earlier today, the look of Hana as the petite Korean went far harder on squats than she could have ever expected, and that mental image gave her a second wind that let her draw out the set for even longer.

 It was a relief to be hung upside down by her ankles after that, and allow some blood from her screaming quads to be alleviated by gravity. Short lived, as it was. After an inhuman amount of inverted sit-ups, Hana abandoned the weights in favour of the metal arms pulling against Brigitte's efforts. With the weight plates alone it looked like Brigitte's monstrous core would last all night. Eventually, of course, the swollen, blocky muscles on her arched stomach were left utterly devastated.

 Her efforts were such that even Hana would stop her here and there, make sure she was willing to continue, that she hadn't been lost in some semi-conscious, stubborn haze and been blinded to the risk of serious injury. But Brigitte could feel her previous limits already shattered, trusting in her own body, conscious of the pain and effort and where to push. The Amazon had been grinding to her limit for years, her body knew this, her body was strong. Brigitte needed the mind and willpower to endure it and keep moving. So, as the arms lowered her to the floor, and the binds on her wrists and ankles fell off with a click, she staggered, but she didn't faint. She fought back the blackness on the rim of her vision and stood up straight, back to attention. Her body was shaking and heaving and hyperventilating, and she moaned, "Thank.. you... Coach!"

 Hana barely had to lean down to kiss the abs of the girl who was over a foot taller than her. The muscle seemed to overflow from her poultry sportswear, and they pulsed and crunched as she panted in a dazzling show that she was barely conscious of. Through deep, heavy breaths Brigitte suddenly squeaked as Hana sharply nipped at her exposed navel. Her slight tension made her abs punch out against the girls face. Dizzy with lust, she murmured, "Two hours left, Briggy. You've been working for six hours now..."

 Brigitte winced. She had been sure they were at the end, but she strengthened her resolve and clenched her fists. "I can do it."

 "We'll see." Hana replied, opening a drawer underneath her desk. "I have a couple more tricks up my sleeve..."

 By a couple, she really seemed to mean two. In one hand, she had a small, custom looking battery and the other, a broad, red candle. "This -" she held out the battery, "- has about an hour's charge left in it. While this -" the candle was put forward, "- will take about an hour to burn out. You outlast these two, you make it to dawn. You win..."

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