Best Arm Wrestling Table Novels & Stories

Lars thought perhaps it was because he could felt Mell's presence all over the theatre and felt safe in it. On the stage, Lars saw Mell carried a large round table in one hand and a stack of chairs on the other, courtesy to his natural super strength as a Fomorian. Mell set the table with twelve chairs and simply be done with it, back to his beer. Lars thought of how modest the setup was to held a meeting of beings with godly powers, but he shrugged it off because its simplicity really captured Mell's vibe. Lars floated down to the stage and hovered over the table. "Good morning! Anything I can do to help?"

"Then we'll have something on hand for you. I think Mama's got some morphine left." I jerked back as if he'd slapped me in the face. I turned away. Tried to pull my hand from his. "Shit," he whispered. He held on, squeezed my fingers. "Look at me, Will." I continued to study the fallen table. The cast iron base had to weigh at least fifty pounds. That didn't include the quartz stone top that looked as if it weighed half that. I was lucky I didn't have any broken bones. If I got away with just some deep muscle bruising, I would finally take Talia up and join her Krav Maga classes.

~Muriel~ Having a meal with so many people made me drip down in sweat. I couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. It was a lively feast. We were all seated opposite each other around a large, long folding banquet table, 96 inches long to the end of the dining room, 42 inches wide to the rounding chairs, and 30 inches high from the floor. The men were talking about their political ambitions and stuff like that while the women recalled Alpha Bryson’s last ball. Only me and Jennifer, the newly lifted Omegas were as silent as the grave.

The idea sinks in my mind, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the passionate kiss we shared a minute ago! “Look, it’s Lawrence!” I pointed his friend who did palm reading to me to divert the topic. The room buzzed with energy as I spotted Lawrence and a group of guys gathered around a table, their cheers and shouts catching my attention. They were in the middle of an arm-wrestling match, and it looked like Archer was up next because his friends were already calling him. “Come here, you dickhead!” Leon said, grabbing his hand and made him sit across from a bearded guy, both of them locking hands, their brows furrowed in concentration.

Though she had a bit of a sly grin, she yawned a bit and taunted her opponent “Is that all you’ve got, big guy?” she asked. “I’m starting to get real sleepy over here.” Both their hands were locked, and their elbows were solidly on the table in front of them. And on each side of the table were small piles of coins and paper currency. The rules of their arm wrestling match was simply whoever made their opponent’s knuckles touch their own bets won the whole pot. It was a simple game that had persisted throughout human history across millennia. It was certainly no stranger to the big hunk, though it was clear what he was currently experiencing was a first.

"Yes. Hopscotch, tug of war, arm wrestling. We vary, depending on the weather and the mood. It's just for fun, so we adults feel like we're young again. Or younger, at least." I was about to say we really needed to leave when someone called out behind us. "A hundred bucks on Dave!" "The women are sitting this one out, it seems." Farrah left me, taking her bag with her. The men set up a table for arm-wrestling, and a whiteboard which had been propped up next to it with a fixture of sorts. I noticed James' name wasn't on there. Just when I thought we were off the hook, he walked out from inside the house with a beer in hand, quickly taking in the new developments. He seemed to immediately catc

“That was better than I expected. Now we will just do a simple arm wrestle, just so I can gauge your strength level.” I didn’t want to arm wrestle because I didn’t want to embarrass myself. At least with Lex, he was laid back. So, when he set up a table for us to arm wrestle on, I didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable. I had to remind myself that this was all so I could help save Braxton. As far as arm wrestling, I lost without much effort. “See, I told you that I am no match for a werewolf.” I expressed it once more.

I could tell by bazillion soundproofers that they were the gun rooms, and my hands itched to climb the iron stairs up to them. The entire space was a solid white with black accents everywhere. To our farthest right was what I assumed to be a bar, and about a dozen guys littered the place, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping off their bodies. Right in the middle of the giant hall-like room was a ring. The one you see in wrestling matches… Yes, exactly that one and a punching back was dangling on chains right in the middle of it. Two guys rounded it, the other holding the bag in his arms while the other one pounced on it like it had wronged him.

He thought of his sister and wanted the best to be hers and didn’t even flinch at the thought of losing the easy pie. “I own one better than this.” Almera rolled her eyes and lifted her chin with feigned contempt. She would have drooled if she saw this yesterday, but today…. Mira had already gifted her one that could not only adjust the height of the table but also the width of the slate frame to hold and be rolled to wherever she wanted to take it. “Liar.” Aldrin scoffed “I have seen what you own.” He had given it to her a few years ago.

But Null’s interception put him exactly where Baraka needed him to be: standing directly in the center of the tactical table, directly underneath the two-ton steel HVAC unit. Baraka didn't hesitate. He didn't use the Star-Code. He used the last, desperate reserve of human adrenaline left in his starving muscles. He sprinted forward, ignoring the blinding pain in his ribs, and threw his entire body weight into a flying shoulder tackle. He didn't tackle Null. He tackled the thick, aluminum support beam holding the tactical war table in place. The heavy table violently shifted backward, slamming into the cracked concrete pillar that housed the primary anchor bolts for the ceiling unit. The impa