Tifa Lockheart vs Princess Peach

my first ever story about wrestling

“Two of the most beautiful women in video game history. Tonight in the Electric Wrestling League, a pair of long-term rivals throw down in a violent, hectic, erotic duel between two lovely ladies in the ring.
“Entering first, to the Black Mages’ “Those Who Fight Further, having remained a fan-favorite and one of the most sought after women in video games.” Spotlights struck the first runway in the oh-so predictable way. “The dead sexy martial artist from Square, Tifa Lockheart!”
A broad number of cheers met the former world savior as she waved with her arm held high. Doing so only increased the cheering, as it stretched her already hazardously pressurized tanktop. Her jean shorts and boots completed her original costume, choosing it over her more modern leather outfit.
“And her opponent! The original damsel of distress and a princess among princesses! Entering to the Mushroom Kingdom Theme, Princess Peach!”
Peach shuffled in much more slowly and tamely than her rival. She shuffled out in a very reserved fashion, wearing enough layered pink silk in her dress to nearly double her bodyweight. This was met with very quiet and hesitant reactions until she stopped to adjust the neck of her dress. When she seemed content with it, she gripped it and tore it off like Velcro, unveiling her far more practical outfit.
It was what she tended to wear to more sporty events, primarily soccer. It was still all pink, but she now wore clinging garments. Pants that stopped high on her thighs and low on her hips, and a short-sleeved, tight shirt that ended mere inches below her breasts. She’d also decided to leave on her crown. The blonde whirled the dress over her head as she marched down the aisle, hooting proudly to her fans as they exploded over the display of showmanship.
She reached the ring, tossing her dress, crown, and high heels off into the corner while the ref went over the rules with the women. While there were rumors that the feud had started when Square abandoned Nintendo (and others suggest that it was over the slap in the face of Crystal Chronicles), they had found common grounds in the ref to ensure impartial judgment. The original White Mage went over the ground rules that they were to battle until either fighter surrendered or was pinned for 5 seconds. Anything else was deemed legal if they stayed inside the stadium, though they had still insisted that both sides not be carrying any weapons when they entered the ring.
“Traitor,” Peach spat quietly over the rambling ref, ignoring her for the most part. Tifa scoffed in surprise.
“Tightass,” she countered, her voice a hateful whisper like a child challenging another to fight after school while still in class.
“In the OLD days, we would hang traitors,” Peach said with a scowl. “We did worse to whores.”
“Who’s a whore?!” Tifa snapped back, starting to lose the pretense of the lowered voices. “Just cuz you’ve got a fancy title you think you’re allowed to throw it around and nobody else should?”
“I do NOT!” she snapped with a shove into Tifa’s abundant chest, ignoring the White Mage’s short-lived protests. “I have never done anything of the sort!”
“Oh, come now,” Tifa cooed, taking pride in her getting under the princess’ skin. “You’ve been rescued ALL those times and you try and tell me you’ve never properly ‘thanked’ your rescuers? Hell, I bet you’ve even let that dragon creature have a go at…”
“Slut!” Peach snapped, standing at her full height. Tifa was taller, but she still wasn’t to be intimidated.
“Showoff!” Tifa countered, sticking her chest out abruptly and pushing Peach in the chest. The rubbery pressure bounced her backwards, Peach regaining her footing before continuing the debate.
“Pathetic cow!” she snapped, shoving her chest back into Tifa’s defiantly. She held her ground.
“Stupid blonde!” Tifa shoved back, both keeping their footing. Their nipples grated against one another’s and hardened slightly.
“Silicon-stuffed skank!” Though Peach found herself considering, amidst her anger, that Tifa’s smooth orbs felt awfully real against her own. And they weren’t so big that they were offensive, exactly, but still…
“Tiny-titted tart!” It was really not an accurate call, as Peach herself nearly had D-cups breasts, and they were nothing men wouldn’t gawk at. It was just that pressed against Tifa, few women could really compare…
“In-bred, stuck up Barbie doll!”
“Bloated bull-dyke!”
“Disease-ridden…” Apparently nobody had pointed out to Peach that the bell had rung several seconds ago, and her next stunning insult was cut off when Tifa dropped down and rose again with a sharp uppercut to her regal chin.
Peach staggered back, rubbing her jaw and leveling her eyes again as Tifa took on a kickboxing stance. It was now, officially, on.
Tifa gave the infamous motion that meant Peach should bring it on, hoping to maximize the blonde’s mind, fogged by anger as it was. Peach regained her calm quickly enough, though, easing forward with her arms raised in a grappling stance. Tifa smirked and let her fingers entwine with Peach’s.
The two pressed each other’s hands back and forth, biceps bulging in the effort. Tifa was surprised to see just how much Peach’s arms expanded, starting to realize that the princess wasn’t all fluff. The falter of her attention and Peach’s anger gave her the edge.
“AHHHH!” Tifa wailed, Peach arcing her opponents wrists backward. She lost ground quickly, Peach taking advantage of Tifa’s position to sweep her off her feet. The combatants fell to the floor, falling and landing face to face with Peach on top. Tifa grunted on the impact as both gathered their senses.
“Get off me, you fat cow!” Tifa snapped, struggling to shove Peach off of her.
“FAT?!” Peach threw an angry right hook into Tifa’s right tit, the orb rewarding her with a complicated wobbling. Tifa screamed as her eyes grew wide from the pain. Peach grinned menacingly at this. She tore into them like a kid with a Christmas present, ripping away with her nails at Tifa’s tender breasts while she shrieked and spasmed beneath her.
Peach thrust her nails straight into Tifa’s tits, which folded inward at the pressure. With one locked in each hand, she yanked them in opposite directions. Tifa’s tank top ripped open at the chest, exposing her expansive chest to the delighted crowd. Peach was momentarily distracted by the shreds of the shirt she had in each hand, leaving Tifa with her opening.
Through the tears in her eyes from Peach’s attack on her beloved bosom, Tifa lunged up with her upperbody. Peach was knocked backward by a punch in her own tit. It didn’t quiver around so much as Tifa’s, but it didn’t hurt her any less as she clasped it in her hand, backing away and prying open her shirt to peek at the damage. Tifa kept up her counter attack, running in to take Peach by her long blonde hair and getting her to squeal in a panic. Tifa shoved Peach chest first into the nearest turnbuckle, grabbing the back of her head and bashing it into the corner post. Peach went cross-eyed as she tried to stagger back, but Tifa kept her grip and bashed her face again.
Tifa rubbed the princess’ face cruelly into the turnbuckle, sneering down at her ruined shirt and exposed chest. She was certainly proud of them, but damaging them was another thing entirely. She was ready for revenge, but Peach spun around and backhand slapped Tifa across the face. Before she could do much else, Tifa ducked and shoulder checked her into the corner.
“BLEEEEGH!” Peach grunted, her tongue lolling out as the air left her lungs and she felt ready to throw up. Tifa threw an uppercut into her stomach, making the pain all the more worse. Peach fell to her knees, then fell on her face, whimpering and gagging while her round, lovely ass stuck up into the air. Tifa felt more than confident that her breasts were better than Peach’s, but her ass was a real sight to see from this angle in those tight shorts. She recognized the jealously in her thoughts, and threw a strong kick bitterly into Peach’s butt cheeks.
She wailed loudly as her breath came back, the kick a bitter wakeup call as Tifa mounted the princess’ back. “Now, you stuck up snot, let’s see what your packing under all those girdles…” Peach protested and flailed about, but Tifa still yanked her tight shirt over her head. When it had her face and arms covered, and Peach could do nothing but murmur and squirm, Tifa threw a few more punches into her face. She looked down to see that, unlike herself, Peach had worn a bra to the fight. She grinned sadistically, climbing off the princess while keeping her pinned down with one hand on her back.
Tifa took hold of the lacey pink undergarment’s strap, pulled back as far as she could, then snapped it back so loud it could be heard in the farthest corners of the stadium. The crowd “oooh” in sympathy-pain, then went on to applaud her cruelty. Peach only kicked her feet against the mat and murmured more from inside her spandex prison, though in a more distinct way that said she was crying. Tifa had to laugh, adoring this form of domination.
Peach, meanwhile, managed to squirm loose just as Tifa had made an attempt at a second snap of her bra. The elastic snapped off at the peak of its ascension, Peach taking this chance to roll over and knock Tifa off. She scrambled away from the brawler, her bra falling from her body and leaving her completely topless as well (though there was an intensely red line across her back now). She grabbed the ropes to aid herself up, but Tifa tackled her from behind, wrapping her arm around her neck in a chokehold.
Peach gagged and fell on her stomach, dragging herself along the mat. Tifa had a vice grip on her, and she was whispering her gloating words into her ears. “I’m bigger and stronger than you, ya stupid whore. I’ve been fighting monsters barehanded while you sat on your throne and gave orders. What kinda chance do you have against a street girl like me?” It was true. Tifa was far more fit and made for fighting than Peach was. She might have been a bit heavier than Tifa, but much of it was in a thin layer of chubbiness from her pampered lifestyle. It did little but giver the princess her curves. She was, as a whole, outmatched.
“But,” she knew as she groped for the ropes. White Mage watched closely, ready for her to grasp the ropes so she would end the hold. “I can still use my head.” She snatched at her discarded costume, taking her crown from its spot in the middle. She carefully avoided the ropes so as to keep Tifa in the hold, even if she was coughing sharply and fogging over her vision. Tifa was too caught up in her taunting to notice quickly enough, looking up as the crown was swung spike-first into her face. They scraped across her eyes, getting her to scream and clutch at them as she fell off the princess instantly.
Peach coughed and caught her breath again, shoving her crown on top of the corner post. She grabbed the staggering Tifa by the hair, bashing her head into the turnbuckle and right into the crown again. Tifa screamed as they gouged her eyes, which watered terribly as she stumbled back blindly. Peach backed away, getting to one knee to cough and rest up a bit as Tifa sobbed obscenities and tried to regain her vision.
As she started to stumble towards Peach, the princess rose up again and threw an uppercut into Tifa’s twat with all her might. “FUUUUUUUCK!” Tifa bellowed, grabbing her privates with both hands as she fell to the ground. Peach, starting to regain some confidence, strode up to her opponent and lifted her to her feet by her hair. She stuck Tifa’s head between her legs, raising her hands triumphantly to cue her upcoming piledriver.
Tifa had a burst of rage, heaving back on her neck to stand back upright… throwing Peach over her back in the process. “AIEEEEE!” Peach landed flat on her face, once again sharing her stunning ass with the world. Tifa furiously dove onto the princess’ back, landing on the back of her head and getting another sharp groan from her enemy. Tifa was out for vengeance again; first her tits, now her throbbing snatch. The royal cunt had to pay.
She grabbed onto the spandex shorts of the royal rumbler, avoiding her kicks as she slid them off her and exposing her bare ass. Tifa considered a spanking for a moment, but it was too minor. Instead, she reached straight past it, delivering one of the most devastating moves in any form of wrestling. She latched her hand onto Peach’s pussy lips, clamping down like a crab.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHOHHHHHFUCK!” Peach screeched at the top of her lungs. She went into a seizure of spasms, becoming too erratic for Tifa to remain on top. She tumbled off, leaving the princess crawling pathetically on her hand and knees as her right hand clutched her agonizing pussy. She wailed as tears ran down her cheeks, Tifa regaining her composure and marching up behind the oblivious princess.
She stood directly over her, throwing a hard kick to her royal ribs. Peach moaned throatily, still too caught up in holding her cunt as she rolled onto her back. Tifa stood over her, raising her fists triumphantly and suddenly planting her ass on Peach’s stomach. She squeaked femininely at the impact. Tifa repeated the process, standing up to play to the crowd before slamming her butt down onto the princess.
When Peach was a mess of tears, Tifa slinked down to her feet, peeling off the princess’ spandex shorts and leaving her naked on the mat. Peach could only whimper quiet protests as her neatly shaved (but fairly swollen) cunt was exposed to the crowd. “Shut it, cunt. This party’s just getting started.” With that, she sensually slid off her mini skirt and panties in one slow, smooth motion that drove the crowd wild.
Tifa kicked off the garments into a corner, striding confidently back to Peach. This time, she stood right over her head, her legs spread to show off her thick pussy lips hovering over her opponent’s face. “Hope your hungry, bitch. Cuz we’re gonna be having PIE for desert!” She dropped down again, this time slapping her pussy right into Peach’s face.
The royal rumbler wailed in protest, more out of humiliation than pain. The audience went wild with catcalls and cheers as Tifa ground her cunt harshly against Peach’s face. “Now, love… we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
“This…” Peach coughed, recovering her voice. “This is disgusting! I’m a princess for…” She was cut off as her mouth was filled by Tifa’s wet pussy.
“Wrong answer.”
She squatted to raise herself off of Peach’s face, holding the blonde by the hair as she lifted her head off the mat. Peach spat out her vaginal juices for a moment before Tifa slammed a fist across her cheek, making her spray saliva from her mouth as her head jerked aside. Tifa hit her with two more awesome blows before pulling her in closer to her body. Peach’s face landed just above Tifa’s cunt, amidst a small forest of pubic hair. Tifa rubbed Peach’s face up and down over the coarse, sweaty region, getting her to scream at the abrasive scraping and shame she received.
“ALRIGHT!” she screamed, stopping to spit out the pubic hairs she caught in her lips. “Alright! I’ll do it the easy way!”
“Good girl,” purred Tifa, bending down to give Peach a brief, soft kiss. “Now get to pleasin’ your mama,” she added coldly, bucking her hips hard into Peach’s face hard enough to send her sliding back into a turnbuckle. Peach obliged, propping herself against the ring post as she tearfully pleasured Tifa. Her warm tongue explored her tender womanhood, Tifa wailing in excitement at the thrill of dominating her enemy so severely.
Tifa quickly got off, spraying Peach in the face with her girl-cum so heavily that she feared she might drown in it for a moment. Tifa sighed contently, still holding Peach’s face in place inside her vaginal walls. “That’s a good queeny,” she purred. “Not so high and mighty when you’re off your throne, are ya?”
“No, ma’am,” Peach murmured, barely audible at all. Tifa only could tell by the feel of the vibrations on her tender pussy.
“It’s mistress to you,” she growled, beginning to step back when she saw that Peach was holding onto her hips tightly.
“Please, mistress… I’m not done.” Tifa grinned. Seeing her opponent so broken was a beautiful thing.
“Alright. But I’d better come twice as hard this time, or I swear I’ll beat you so bad you’ll never have kids.”
Peach nodded, her blonde, cum-stained hair bobbing against Tifa’s vagina as Peach dug in once again. “Aaaaah!” Tifa sang, squirming from Peach’s fevered attention to her cunt. She clutched and played with Tifa’s ass as she continued eating her out, Tifa’s knees shaking as she grabbed the ropes to hold herself up for the approaching orgasm. Just when it seemed imminent, Peach placed her mouth over Tifa’s entire cunt, sucking like a vampire to draw the meaty insides of Tifa’s pussy outward. “Awww, yes! Cu… cum… cummi…”
Then Peach bit down with all her might. Tifa exploded into screams instead of moans, trying to wrench Peach away from her furiously painful pussy hold. But Peach held onto her hips tightly, locking her fingers in Tifa’s asshole and crack as she snarled and thrashed her teeth against Tifa’s pussy lips. Tifa threw several punches to the back of Peach’s head, but she still kept her jaws locked on her box. She only let go after a full minute of the mauling, and then only to pull her head back and lock her teeth on Tifa’s clit instead.
Tifa screamed bloody murder at this, Peach’s teeth feeling like they were severing the tiny organ as she spasmed violently from the agony. Peach finally shoved at Tifa, knocking her onto her back as she continued sobbing and screeching from the agony that was her cunt. Peach caught her breath for a second, the confidently stood back up. She took a moment to fix her hair, wiping a fingerful of cum from her face and sucking on the finger casually. The crowd was just as pumped over this comeback as anything else in the match.
She strutted over to the wounded Tifa, who was unable to pay attention to anything but the horrible pain of her vag. “I AM royalty, you know,” Peach cooed, fondling her set of tits tauntingly (much to the crowd’s delight). “So I think I should deserve a proper throne, don’t you?”
With that, she turned to face Tifa’s feet, the crowd flipping shit as she lowered her thick, smooth ass onto the panicking Tifa’s face. The Throne of Gomorrah was her trademark move, and no one could pull it off quite like Peach. She wriggled her ass around, getting comfortable as Tifa’s nose was wedged up her butt and she crossed her legs casually. Tifa managed to gather the sense to swung her fists against Peach’s thighs and butt, but her thick backside shrugged off the weak attempts. White Mage went for a count when Peach stopped her by raising a hand. She sighed contently as she adjusted herself further, feeling Tifa’s swings weaken more and more. She finally stopped entirely, Peach wiggling her ass a few more times to receive no movement in response.
She stood up and looked at Tifa, her eyes rolled back into her head. She breathed long, raspy gasps, but didn’t make a move. Peach serenely walked to Tifa’s bottom, placing a small foot delicately on Tifa’s pussy. She carelessly waved to the ref of a mage. “You may count now.”
“Right! 1… 2… 3… 4… 5!!”
The crowd went insane for her royal hotness, the ref raising her hand of high as she wiggled a little victory dance for her fans, jiggling her ass and tits for them. “A royal creampuff I’m not,” she said snootily to Tifa, giving an insulting prod of her foot to Tifa’s face before striding out of the ring.