Hitomi vs Rainbow Mika

commission from a new customer,  fine change of pace from celeb fights to two video game fighting girls (Dead or Alive vs Street Fighter). chatted over a few other fantasy bouts, and always find fictional women easier to write than real. feel like it gives me more wiggle room, even if they already have defined personalities as characters. that goes for cartoons, or unnamed model/random pic types of women. like Kristen Stewart will call to tell me she would have behaved differently while getting her ass kicked...

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Hitomi wasn’t a regular at the bar, but she was liked there. She was cute, sweet, and the staff liked her since nobody bothered starting fights there when she was around. The bar was known for serving its share of toughs and gang members, but brawls never proved very efficient when Hitomi was around to break them up. No matter who started it, or who you were after, or how many there were, Hitomi won.

She at the bar itself, cute rump planted on a stool from within her tight jeans. She had a denim jacket on over a bright yellow t-shirt, and a hairband across the top of her long brown locks. Deceptively cute for a near-master martial artist.

She watched over the bar scene in an almost mother hen kind of way, enjoying the peace among the noise and a chilled wine cooler. People flirted and drank, but most of all she watched over a table where they were having the arm wrestling competition. People surrounded the table, competitors coming and going, but only on one end of the table.

She had to watch long enough for the losers to thin out to see who was on the winning end of all these little challenges. It was a busty girl with long blond hair around her age, a long-sleeved shirt and slacks on. Her bright blue eyes shone with excitement as another big man came up, locked fingers with her, and lasted a few seconds before Mika slammed their hand down noisily. “Yea! Who’s next!?” she boasted loudly, flexing a thick but still feminine arm.

Hitomi stayed quiet as she smiled off at the scene, letting it play out for a while. She must have been staring at some point, since the blond Rainbow Mika looked up to her with a high wave. “Yo!” she called enthusiastically. “You want in on this, missy?!”

Hitomi looked surprised to be called out, but shook her head distantly. “Oh, I couldn’t,” she dismissed. “Looks like fun and all, but armwrestling? Really?” she giggled. “I haven’t done anything like that since junior high.”

Mika looked her over warily for a moment, then grinned widely. “You’re a fighter!” she declared loudly, beating her fist on the table in realization. Hitomi looked at her surprised, but nodded a bit.

“Yea… I know some martial arts.”

“Awesome! So that’s’ what you mean!”

“It is?” Hitomi said confused as Mika stood up from her seat.

“Yea! I hear you loud and clear! We totally need a match right now!”

Hitomi looked stunned by the decision, while Mika looked all the more excited. “Are you serious?” she said, though cracking a smile. It was always fun to meet a new face, especially with a fight, it seemed. Some of her newest friends had been through fights, after all. And the girl seemed odd, but fun and strong enough to be worth the effort.

“Maybe you’re right,” Hitomi conceded a bit with a small but playful smile.

“Course I’m right!” Mika chimed, pounding a fist into her palm. “Let’s dance!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Hitomi urged, raising her hands. “In here!? There’s people around.”

Mika grinned proudly and thrust out her chest. “What’s the matter? Scared to let people see you lose?” It was a playful taunt at her, but Hitomi smiled back.

“No, just don’t want to ruin some peoples’ meals or anything. Bring your fans if you want, just let’s take this out back, okay?”

Mika nodded in consent. “Ok, then. Meet you there!” Mike proudly strutted out, big hips wiggling as she went. Hitomi let herself watch a bit, finishing her drink quickly and following the blond.

When she got out, she was surprised again to see Mika taking off her pants. Her shirt was already gone, and underneath it all, she wore her trademark white and blue wrestling outfit. She reached into her cleavage and pulled out a blue mask, and tied her hair up into pigtails.

Hitomi looked at her strangely as she took off her own coat and tossed it onto a nearby trash can. “Is that… a costume?” she started warily. “Are you a wrestler?”

Mike flexed her arm wrestling arm proudly. “Yup! No big secret. I thought you mighta recognized me in there. Rainbow Mika’s the name! Remember it when I wind up world champ some day.”

Hitomi giggled and bowed a bit. “You’re strange, Mika… but you seem fun. I’m Hitomi, and I hope our little fight suits you.”

Mika nodded. “Right. Just don’t expect me to hold back. It’s not a real fight if someone’s holding back.”

It was a bit more than Hitomi expected, but she raised her fists and nodded. It wasn’t what she imagined, but she just couldn’t say no to a challenge. Besides, Mika was a wrestler. She knew her share of them, including Tina Armstrong (and once a run in with Dixie Clements…). They were showman by nature, but also genuine athletes and not to be ignored as actors pretending to fight. She knew there were some legitimately violent leagues out there, and even the fakes, their moves hurt if you did them WRONG. Still, she imagined her experience in genuine martial arts left her at the advantage against the thicker blond.

Mika raised her hands palms out in a grappling stance, the girls shuffling closer to match up. Mika tried to rush in as Hitomi hoped, trying to grapple her but Hitomi raised her knee up, a light hit to Mika’s upper body to stop her advance. She shifted her leg to swing a genuine kick into Mika’s midsection, rattling the bigger blond so she grunted as her chest bounced in her spandex uniform. Hitomi bit back a smile of the early edge, swinging her fist down at Mika’s head but she threw up her forearm to deflect it, thrusting out with her shoulder to ram into Hitomi’s torso and knock her back a few paces. Mika threw a knife edge chop for Hitomi’s chest, hopping back just in time to keep it from lashing right across her own bouncing chest. She moved in quickly, following the opening from Mika’s attack and grabbing her arm, holding it away from Mika’s chest to hold her guard open and thrust in, slamming her elbow into Mika’s generous tits.

The hit to the sternum managed to wind her bigger foe, so Hitomi grabbed Mika by her arm and shoulder tossed her to the pavement, Mika landing on her back. Hitomi grinned as Mika winced, starting to take a step back to aim a kick for her foe. But she hardly got a half step when she halted, realizing she had let go of Mika’s arm but she had not let go of her in return.

“That’s what you get for trying to grapple a wrestler,” Mika grunted, grinning even as she winced from echoing pain of the throw. She kicked her legs out, smacking into Hitomi’s and making her stumble enough for her to swing her down to her level. Hitomi grunted girlishly as she hit the pavement as well, landing on her side when Mika lunged after her, raising her arm in midair to slam an elbow drop on top of Hitomi’s belly button.

The thinner fighter huffed and hugged her hands to gut, starting to bend forward to ease the shock to her stomach. Even at the short drop Mike had managed, it was a startling blow to her tender middle. With her momentarily winded, Mika took the chance to drag herself up, leaning a hand on the dumpster nearby to steady herself. While Hitomi was getting her breath back, Mika leaned down and grabbed her long brown hair by two big fistfuls.

She hoisted her to her feet, where Hitomi might be grateful if her legs were steadier and the pain in her scalp was lessened. Mika kept her control of Hitomi as she swung her by the hair, the Dead or Alive fighter’s back smashed into the nearest brick wall, body quaking from the blow and only just missing hitting her head on the brick as well by the grace of physics. The shock still rattled through her body, slouching a bit as she tried to regroup, running a hand through her just released scalp. Mika kept up her offensive, blitzing the lighter fighter by pressing her forearm into Hitomi’s chest just below her neck and above her breasts. It held her steady, Hitomi wincing and trying to pry her powerful arm away from her and free up her breathing.

Hitomi started sweating as she leaned back into the wall, using it for leverage to push back at Mika’s arm. She sucked in a quick breath, swinging up a knee at Mika’s ribs. Mika lowered her arm enough to catch her by the thigh with her free hand, letting Hitomi have to try and reclaim her balance again while she had time to wind up and slug her in the belly. Hitomi blurted out her freshly reclaimed air, her whole body quaking from the blow at first, then a pure shiver as her body reacted violently from the shock of the blow. It felt like Mika had hit clean through her and connected with the wall. Mika’s arm shoved back into Hitomi’s chest, holding her in place as she wound up again and hit her with another hammering fist into the belly. Hitomi was once again violently introduced to how much stronger Mika was in terms of raw power as she felt ready to throw up from the force of the blow and a mouthful of saliva splashed from her lips and over Mika’s arm. Mika didn’t seem to care.

Hitomi felt her eyes watering from the pain, holding her belly and her feet slipping over the pavement, back sliding down the wall. Her legs were giving out beneath her as the strength left her, but that wasn’t enough for Mika to consider her out of the fight. Again, Hitomi might be pleased with the respect that implied from Mika, if not for her particular position. Mika had backed up and let her slide, but only to rush back at her, leaping toward Hitomi and pivoting at the last minute for her famed Peach Bomber. Its fame was two-fold; it was a powerful midair slam that knocked down some of the heaviest of opponents, and it was done by hurling her thonged butt through the air and into her opponents. Both made for quite the crowd pleasing aspects. In this case, the powerful butt bomb smashed right into Hitomi’s chest, sandwiching her breasts between Mika’s round ass and Hitomi’s ribs, technically but truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

Hitomi screamed out, which she found all the more painful with the air being repeated bashed from her lungs. She actually felt the brickwork behind her crack and crumble a bit from the power of the running slam, dropping onto her butt against the wall with her head shaking listlessly. A common fighter would have been down and out some time ago, but Hitomi was made of tougher stuff. She grabbed at the dumpster nearby’s edge, trying to hoist herself back up to her knees while Mika took her traditional moment after her attack to readjust her thong.

By now a small crowd was present, mashed into the alley as best they could to witness the fight. “Good,” Mika thought, as they looked wide-eyed at their local barfight champion coughing and holding her bruised belly on the ground. “Time to make a real impression on them all, and show them just how tough the awesome Rainbow Mika is!” She wasn’t a truly malicious girl, but when her fame was on the line, she could easily get single-minded about this. Plus, as far as she could tell, Hitomi was losing, but still in this fight.

Mika grabbed Hitomi’s hand that rested on the dumpster, using it as a grip herself and stomping her big white boot into Hitomi’s breast, making her quake and grunt with the blow. She rained more stomping strikes onto her, occasionally straying to her belly and chest, but especially targeting her tits. Hitomi’s shirt was dirtied and starting to tear here and there as Mika’s boots did their work on her, squashing and sculpting her breasts around painfully as Hitomi wailed out girlishly, trying to get her hands up in the way of Mika’s feet, only for them to be easily swatted aside by the kicks and stomps and falling to her sides, leaving her wide open for the next attack.

The blond wrestler breathed heavy, her own big tits bouncing as she wiped some sweat from her brow. Hitomi whimpered in pain and wrapped her hands around her breasts, sure they were bruising and would swell up like watermelons by the next day, if not starting to already.

“Come on, get up,” Mika taunted, waving her hands expectantly at Hitomi. “These folks want a show, after all. Nothin’ worse than a short show!” She grabbed Hitomi by the shirt collar, lifting her up to her shaky legs again. Hitomi found her footing as Mika held her there, grabbing onto Mika’s shoulders for balance. Mika tried shaking her off, but when she held surprisingly firm, she gasped as she felt Mika reach around and cup her ass through her jeans. What she thought, in her haze of pain, to be a come-on, quickly was spoiled when Mika used her “lovehandles” to lift Hitomi off her feet by several inches, then drop her back towards the ground. This time, however, her feet didn’t make contact first. Her groin landed right on Mika’s extended knee, an atomic drop the sent a bolt of pain up Hitomi’s loins and pelvis that sent her mouth and eyes flying wide open, a muted scream as she could only squeak out at the pain pounded into her womanhood by Mika’s knee bone.

She found herself suspended on the knee, precariously balanced by Mika’s grip on her ass before she let go, shoving Hitomi back onto the dirty ground. Hitomi started to release small, high pitched whines, cupping her pussy as she kicked her feet in weak, random motions, trying to move her thigh muscles enough to relieve some of the pain. It did little, but it was all she could do. Mika shook out her head, blond pigtails wagging like an excited dog’s ears.

“Know you can take more than that, sweety,” Mika insisted, grabbing Hitomi’s hair again with one hand and lifting her up. Hitomi’s eyes opened gingerly, wincing at Mika and just able to recognize her before the wrestler hit her with a headbutt. Hitomi still saw her opponent, but she saw a lot more stars. She was stunned and a red welt on her forehead where Mika had bashed her skull into hers, mouth hanging open and breathing heavily, drooling a bit onto the pavement below them.

Mika grunted and bent over, hoisting Hitomi’s uppermost body and one arm over her shoulder. She took an audible huff of air in preparation, then stood upright, lifting Hitomi off her fee and several feet off the ground, almost totally over her head for a moment before she swung her back down. Again, Mika’s knee shot out, a backbreaker this time as Hitomi landed across her like the most painful mattress imaginable.

Hitomi’s daze was broken by another scream of agony, arched into a near total C shape. Mika helped this symbol take shape by reaching out, taking hold of Hitomi’s thigh and chin and pushing down on both, bending her further into her knee and arching her back. Fans took note of her pain, but at least as many noticed how this forced her tight tummy to stick up into the air and her tits to thrust out until it looked like her breasts would stab her bra right through her shirt, a few specks of the white undergarment visible.

Hitomi’s body rocked visibly as she heaved her huge breaths, body shocked and reacting poorly to the pain she was in. Mika held her there a good while before raising her one hand, twisting her fingers into a claw shape and slapping it onto Hitomi’s tight feminine abs. The abdominal claw clamped around her stomach muscles, squeezing and crushing at her midsection as Hitomi thrashed and gagged, slapping and clawing at the offending hand, but Mika’s grip shockingly powerful and experienced at the pro wrestling move. Hitomi’s stomach was an open book to her, and she was ripping out the pages as she pleased. At this rate, she would have trouble standing up with her stomach in so much pain, let alone winning this fight.

“Please!” Hitomi shrieked in a whisper. “I give!” Mika didn’t hear her plea, either by ignoring her or too caught up in the fight to genuinely hear her. This was clear when Mika let go, only to raise her hands high with their palms out, then clamp them together and smash a double-fisted ax handle onto Hitomi’s stomach. Hitomi’s breathe was hurled out of her again, hard enough for her body to buck upward and almost fold herself in half again before flopping limply over Mika’s knee again. She was a rag doll by now, and STILL Mika did not let up on her one-sided punishment. She grabbed Hitomi by the hem of her jeans, yanking them downward. Just a brief flash of pink panties was revealed as she repositioned the German girl (despite her name) to sit on her butt at Mika’s side, her upper body still arched over Mika’s leg. She raised her hands against and rained down her fists, hammer blows sinking into Hitomi’s soft breast meat. She tried to scream with each one, but she couldn’t muster the strength to keep pace with the rate at which Mika was beating on them like her busty drum set.

“Give… give…” Hitomi squeaked out, but then Mika formed a set of claws again, this time with both hands. Hitomi saw her and eyes went wide as they could manage (only so much, really, given her hazy state of mind). “No! No!” she pleaded, sensing where this was going. But Mika’s hands lashed down onto Hitomi’s breasts, squeezing them firmly and her strong fingers digging into her titflesh.

“Yes yes! How do you like the Super Mika Bread Kneading technique!?!” she boasted loudly, making sure she was heard over her opponent’s tormented screams. Hitomi thrashed like a docked fish, limb flying everwhere and her head waving back and forth, hair whipping as if she was trying to just refuse that this much pain could exist in her tits all at once. Mika mashed them into her palms, pulling the tender flesh that held her breast to her chest as she sculpted and kneaded them as she pleased. The shirt could only take so much punishment as Mika’s mauling went on, and soon her fingers were stabbing into her bare skin in some parts. She worked her breasts like a super strong safe cracker before Hitomi managed to find two brain cells that weren’t overwhelmed by pain and went from there.

“GIVE! GIVE! MIKA I GIVE! SUBMIT! PLEASE, STOP!!!” she howled out. Mika gave another firm shake of her breasts (Hitomi’s, though her own bounced considerable with the action). Hitomi’s whole body rattled by her twin handles before Mika shoved her off her knee, rolling pathetically on the pavement flat on her face. She at least got her knees up underneath her so the pressure on her tits was minimal, cradling them gingerly as she sucked in sharp breaths, careful not to take them too deep for the agony in her guts and chest would spit the air back out when she did. Mika placed a boot on Hitomi’s back, not especially heavy but more than enough to hold her down. She raised a fist over her head and thrust out her big chest.

“Your winner, ladies and gentleman!” she crowed. “Lifetime champion, Rainbow Mika!”

There was a fair amount of applause, Hitomi pained and miserable underfoot. Mika removed the boot at last as the crowd started to head inside or crowd around to pat Mika on the back. She squatted down by Hitomi and grinned a wide grin.

“You were GREAT out there, Hitomi,” Mika congratulated her, slapping her shoulder (one of the least painful places on her at the moment). “Really, I’ve seen grown dudes who can’t take a beating like that! You weren’t kidding when you said you were a fighter!”

Hitomi gave her a puzzled look, Mika’s smile never wavering. “I… thank you. You did well too,” Hitomi said meekly, not so much shy as it was that was all her lungs would let her manage right now.

“Thanks a bunch. Should be a nice kick in the butt to my rep around here. Won a few fans over for sure. So… you need a doctor or anything?” Mika offered casually.

Hitomi winced as she started to rise, and Mika took her arm to help her up. “I don’t think so… just bruised and scrapes. And a ruined shirt.”

“Really? Well I think it looks cool still.” Hitomi looked over the girl who had gone to the bar with a mask and cleavage-baring leotard, and let out a small giggle. “Come on. You may not need a doctor, but I know a girl who needs a drink when I see one.”

“Thank you,” Hitomi managed again as Mika led her back inside. The bruises were all over Hitomi, so she felt it at least fair that drinks were on her.

Kristen Stewart vs Emma Watson Rematch

another comission from my regular celeb fight fan, Soothslayer. actually made the majority of this in a SINGLE night, then added some edits in an hour or two during my little vacation

“Good news, KS!” Debra announced cheerfully as she sat down in her office. Kristen Stewart sat across from her desk, a bit of her general awkwardness gone around Debra LaFae. She was her manager, and always kept her interest in mind, almost never steering her wrong. It was her who’d landed her the Twilight series role, after all. She was a mature, shapely woman, slim and fit in a way that made it clear to Kristen that she saw the gym much more often than she did, and had a thing for tan suits and tan skin.

“I think I’ve got just the thing to peak your career here and now, and all I need is your okay on this. ” Debra went on, getting a little smile from Kristen.

“Awesome,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “What’s that?”

“I’ve managed to get you and Emma Watson’s schedules to line up. I’m working on arranging another fight between you two.”

Kristen’s face dropped while Debra kept smiling. “Wait, what?! No!”

Debra frowned in return, at last. “What are you talking about? I had to pull some pretty long strings to get you into this, sweety! ” she said defensively.

“But I got my butt kicked! Totally! I even tried pulling a fast one on her in the ring and she still whupped me!”

“Even a loser gets to stand in a spotlight,” Debra said sternly. Kristen gave her a wry look, and Debra sighed. “That was a joke. Mostly. Point is, you losing drew a lot of attention at the league.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Kristen grumbled, but Debra stepped out from around her desk, folding her arms at her chest.

“And STILL you get work. Kris, put that into perspective. You getting beat got support from the studios anyway. You win, it will blow their minds. Everyone loves a rivalry, and a grudge match like that is a huge rivalry in the making. If you run now, you’re showing them you lack any real commitment, and you’ll turn tail at the slightest trouble. That’s NOT what they want in an actress.”

“Can’t I just…” Kristen searched for the word for a minute. “You know… ACT? It’s my job, so can’t I just get by on that instead of riding publicity stunts about getting stripped and beat up in front of a laughing crowd again?”

Debra gave an “iffy” wiggle of her hand. “The acting… that’s up for debate. But you’ve got a cute face, the goths and teens love you, but you can’t ride one franchise forever. Don’t know if you’ve done your research, but Twilight ENDS, baby doll.” Debra made a somewhat distasteful look. “Not WELL, but you know… not everyone has a taste for vampire c-sections and werewolves falling in love with babies.”

Kristen gave her a puzzled look before Debra waved her hand. “Fact is, your career’s on the line with this. We need to keep you in everyone’s minds and eyes, or else that could be IT for you, KS.”

Kristen sucked on her teeth a moment, making a little reluctant hiss. “I… can’t get back in there, Deb. I’m sorry, but I was sore for a month! The taunts and laughs and bruises stung in my DREAMS way after they healed over. You expect me to just… smile and pose and let Emma butcher me again?”

Debra gave a wag of her finger, a “tut tut” motion with a wink. “Who said anything about you being beaten? This match will keep your career alive, but if you WIN, that will make it SKYROCKET!”

“And how’s that?” Kristen scoffed. “Sneak bear-mace up my ass into the ring and let her have it?”

“Nothing so crude!” Debra said, mock-offended. “I swear, your imagination… no, sweety, you’ve been working on ‘Snow White and the Huntsman, after all. The Disney version is giving us competition, but point IS you’ve been undergoing combat training.”

Kristen looked thoughtful and nodded. She’d been shown how to swing a sword, block with and without it, and fight and battle cry like a genuine warrior. She’d lost a bit of softness and packed on some muscle. Emma had beaten her badly, but it was a gradual thing last time. If this was a leg up, it may be all she needed to turn the tables when Emma was least expecting it.

“Look at that!” Debra grabbed her wrist, lifting Kristen’s arm up in a forced flex, patting a soft hand on her little bicep. “You’ve been stacking up! Have you been working out more and not telling me?” she flattered, and Kristen blushed and giggled a bit. “Little Harriet Potter won’t know what hit her when she’s on the receiving end of those guns.”

Kristen nodded slowly. “Yea, I mean… it’s been paying off, that’s for sure…”

Debra squeezed her hand in both of hers, smiling widely with anticipation. “So that’s a yes? You’ll fight?”

Kristen nodded again. “Yea… fine,” she conceded, though not euphorically. Debra all but cackled in glee, clapping and grabbing her phone.

“Excellent! I’ll call the people up now, let them know you’re interested. Go pick something comfortable out to fight in, we want you at your best tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Kristen sighed, forcing a smile. “Pleeenty of time to prepare. Thanks, Deb,” she said sarcastically, but let her manager make the calls and set tomorrow evening up.

Emma fixed up her torn up jean shorts, and fixed her black shirt with “White Trash” mock-spraypaint printed across it. The clothes was old and comfortable, like Debra had requested, but the shorts were worn to almost see through at her calves and the shirt was a little outgrown, but she liked that. It exposed a tasteful bit of midriff and navel. She’d stretched out a bit to make sure nothing would tear any more than it was, and she had a fine mix of tight and skimpy to give her lots of room to move in. Her hair bounced in a ponytail behind her head.

She looked at the mirror and put on a (actually rather cute) game face. “Ok. Career’s on the line. I’m sure she hasn’t been training for shit, and me… I’m a freakin’ warrior princess, right?” She flexed a little at the mirror and smiled. “Heck yea, I am. Let’s do this.”

Riding her manager’s and her own pep talk, Kristen stepped out into the runway, the fans lighting up and cheering as she walked in. She had to drink up the cheers, adding to her fragile but improving ego. Even if she wasn’t the most sure of herself now, she was positive it wasn’t hopeless. What her and her manager went over was true, and she had certainly improved from her last fight. She gets to the stop of the ring steps, actually striking a quick pose by leaning over the ropes and shaking her butt a bit before climbing in.

Emma was cued for her entrance shortly after, and had clearly gone a different route than Kristen in selecting wardrobe. Her attire was a a silvery grey dress with a high hem, something more suitable for an Oscar night or a club scene. It bared skin at her sides, thighs, and arms, her shorter boyish hair shining in the spotlights as she marched towards the ring.

She was clearly confident in her odds, the fact that she clobbered Kristen so clearly last time keeping her arrogant and assertive. Even her attire was a boast, no concern for upskirt shots of her silky pink panties, and more fashionable than practical.

She hopped over the top ropes nimbly, barely touching down before seeing Kristen and laughing loudly at her, pointing. “Holy shit, you finally broke down and labeled yourself,” she said, indicating Kristen’s “White Trash” t-shirt.

“Fuck off, Stewie,” Kristen snapped back. “While you’ve been fattening up on your couch at home, I’ve been buffing up for our fight. I’ll kick your ass so bad you’ll be jealous of how easy I got off last time!”

Emma laughed at her again. “Oh, that’s so cute! First you brag about your loss last time… and I’m surprised you dared show your ugly mug in a ring ever again. But now you think you can really win? That’s hilarious, Kris. Why didn’t you ever do comedies?”

“I dunno. You’re such a slut, Em, why didn’t you ever do pornos?”

“You took all the dirty parts, it wouldn’t have been as fun,” Emma said with a saucy wink to the crowd.

“Too bad, or they’d have just been screaming my name the whole time with you anyway,” Kristen retorted with a scowl. The bell had rung, but neither girl cared just yet.

“Noticing this match is barefoot,” Emma said, wiggling her toes where she’d already removed her heels she had on the entrance ramp. “Good thing, cuz I liked them too much to waste them getting stuck up your prude little ass.”

“Well hope you don’t like that dress either, cuz it’s gonna be real red when I’m done with you!”

“I won’t leave you a stitch of clothes left to crawl out of the ring in!”

Kristen fumed, taking a few shadow boxing jabs at the air to loosen up before moving in with her fists up. Emma followed suit, though her arms stayed looser at her side. Kristen took the first shot, jabbing twice for Emma’s face. She dodged the first and parried the other, tossing Kristen’s arm back away from her. Kristen stayed unphased and swung her other fist into Emma’s side, a quick smack sounding as it hit home on the exposed flesh below her ribs. Emma grunted and leaned into the blow, trying to ease the pain in her stomach muscles as Kristen’s eyes lit up. It was early, but it was hope.

She took a large step forward, locking her thigh with Emma’s to rob her of some of her maneuverability as she feinted with her free hand, but swung her same fist into the same exposed area. It sounded off again, but stuck there as Emma hooked her arm around Kristen’s, locking it in place against her side. The openings in her outfit served as excellent bait for Kristen, just as she’d hoped.

Kristen was stuck and confused a moment, trying to claw at Emma’s side to escape but the blond fighter grinning and shocking her with a headbutt, Kristen’s eyes out of focus as she staggered on her feet. Emma reached up and grabbed her by the ponytail as she staggered, pulling her head and body down by the handle as she shot up her knee, slamming her in the belly up into her ribs. Kristen heaved and coughed, doubling up further and trying to hug her arms around her tenderized belly. It suited Emma just fine, as she grabbed her hair in both hands and put her knee to Kristen’s chin instead.

The Twilight star’s teeth clacked loudly, brains rattled as she stumbled and fell to her knees, hands still cradling her guts as she rested her chin on the mat. Emma backed up a pace, motioning for Kristen to get up. “Come on, Krissy. Can’t you suck up as much pain as you can dick?” she goaded loudly, the crowd cheering on her creative taunts.

Kristen managed to drag herself up to one knee, shaking out her head. It must have been the training that let her get back up, her thin abs soaking up some of the damage and keeping her heart hammering full of adrenaline. She growled and didn’t rise all the way before tackling Emma around the waist, dropping her onto her back and swinging her balled up fists wildly down at Emma. She threw up her hands to form a barrier between them, bouncing the blows off with little more than sore palms and forearms to show for it.

Between Kristen’s flailing arms, Emma flattened one of her hands as if for a slap. Kristen hadn’t the state of mind to stop the slap, but even if she did, it would have shocked her as the palm strike shot straight at her. The blunt butt of Emma’s palm smacked into her face, Kristen seeing stars as her nose and lips turned a faint red and barely started to swell from the sharp and sudden blow. Emma followed up with a smack on both sides of her head, Kristen gasping out as she had her ears boxed and they started ringing, the pair of painful cranial attacks wreaking havoc on her senses.

Emma just smirked, noting the advantage was still distinctly hers, even for Kristen’s talk of training and muscle acquired. Kristen was wholly disoriented from the pains when Emma grabbed her shoulder, shoving back and twisting her around until she wound up on top. Not content to have her on her back, apparently, Emma rolled her foe onto her stomach, grabbing her arm and bending it backward. Kristen screamed out as the shoulder was bent into a place it had no right to be going.

“Yea, hit those high notes, bitch!” Emma cackled with a toss of her tomboyish hair. “Show all those directors your IMPRESSIVE musical talents.” She bent back Kristen’s fingers as well, making her wail out all the more and beat her palm on the mat miserably for relief. Emma released her arm at last, Kristen just able to cradle it in her other arm when Emma grabbed her by the hair, mounting her back as she gripped and yanked at her ponytail, the extension of her hair holding strong but in return, yanking her head back and arching her back, Kristen screaming out in pain as her back was the next on Emma’s to-do list.

She released the humiliating, hurtful hold after a few more seconds of milking screams from her darker haired foe, ripping her hands free and carelessly ripping the ponytail loose with a few strands sticking to her fingers. Kristen shrieked out, her hair ripped from its ponytail formation and splashing out to hang over her face. She tried to stagger up on all fours, attempting to wipe it from her face. She drunkenly staggered on her knees, trying to rise for several long seconds when Emma rushed her and hit her with a clothesline, flopping her fully onto her back once again.

Emma grinned and walked back to her, planting her foot on Kristen’s stomach and flexing one arm, posing on her like she was already victorious. As far as she was concerned, after all, she was. And frankly, Kristen was pretty convinced by now herself. She just wanted it over with, or at the very least to get away. She shoved at Emma’s foot weakly, but Emma raised her other foot and stepped right on Kristen’s crotch, a casual step but getting a sharp “OOH!” out of Kristen as her heel hit her wide open pelvis as a stepping stone.

Kristen rolled, holding her groin and moaning out as Emma took her time letting Kristen get her wind back from that humiliating move, posing and encouraging the audience’s cheers. That was it. Career or not, Kristen had tried and made her appearance. She didn’t want fame as a punching bag, she just wanted out.

While Emma showboated, Kristen crawled for the ropes, clawing her way across the mat. She was fine with just running away now, filled with pain and misery as she crawled like a wounded soldier for the exit. The crowd booed her attempts at fleeing the fight, but even with an opening on every side of the “squared circle,” Emma grabbed her foot and dragged her back to the middle of the ring. The ride was agonizing as the mat scraped against her chest and body, dragging her shirt up higher on her to expose even more of her stomach, reddening it with mat burns as she howled out in agony.

Shirt up high enough to expose the bottom of her bra, Emma grinned wickedly down at her foe. “Can’t end you too fast, now can we? We’ve got your tradition to keep up!” She used her foot to flip Kristen onto her back, dazed and hurting as Emma grabbed her shirt, pulling it up high with her bra. She left it where it would block Kristen’s face and vision, but expose her tits and pale belly. Kristen complained in muffled tones while Emma chuckled at her.

“See THOSE are as unimpressive as ever,” Emma taunted, twisting Kristen’s nipples cruelly. Kristen’s screams were just audible to the closest of seats, though her tangle of shirt and bra material. Emma giggled and had her fun with her pale teats for a while, using them like scream-inducing Play-Doh. Emma didn’t abuse it too much before she squatted down over Kristen, taking exaggeratedly careful aim to wind up the crowd a bit more before socking her fist into Kristen’s belly button.

Choked and muffled grunts come from Kristen’s t-shirt prison, “White Trash” shoved into her face as Kristen stamps her bare foot on her gut for a finale. Her belly is red and slightly bruised now, and hurts with each of her pained sobs and whines.

Emma was pleased to leave her to suffer for now, blinded as she was, and walking off to a corner. Kristen had to wonder if she’d finally ended it, pinning her while she was stunned with pain of the like. She started to climb up, taking her shirt off over her head along with the bra. Topless and dazed, she looked around for where Emma went. She rose to her knees, just to look to the corner she went to… where Emma had climbed on top of the turnbuckle, balanced precariously but grinning wickedly.

She leapt off, a stunning maneuver where she kicked up her feet and slammed them both into Kristen’s chest, hurling her flying into a corner with the force. Emma bounced off the mats, rubbing her side where she’d landed but knowing Kristen had to have taken it far worse. She looked all but unconscious at this point, draped in the corner groaning dizzily.

Emma got up and walked over to her, pressing her foot against her head to hold her steady until she got a grip on Kristen’s shorts. She pulled them off, leaving her in just her panties and throwing the shorts over her shoulder. She ripped the panties literally off her, tearing at her hips and giving a quick ache to her sore ass and pussy, but minor footnotes in the book on pain Emma was writing with Kristen as her medium. It left the Twilight punching bag bare naked in the corner, whimpering weakly and using all her strength remaining to try and cover up her breasts and snatch with her arms and legs.

Meanwhile, true to her early threat, Emma lifted up Kristen’s shorts above her head, showing the crowd as she concentrating, flexing her arms as she tore her shorts in half, then repeated. It was a bit of an effort, even the shorts in as terrible condition as they were, but the crowd cheered her on all the more for it. She went on to her shirt, reducing it to ribbons and repeating with her underwear before throwing the mess of clothing out of the ring like confetti, littering the ground near the crowd.

“Like that, whore!? You want those clothes back, you’ll crawl like the ugly little mutt you are and pick them up while everyone looks at that fat loose pussy of yours!” she snarled at Kristen viciously, who was too far gone to do anything but whimper and sob a bit. Emma loved the rush of ruining this girl again, and she was riding that adrenaline hard.

Kristen just cowered in her corner, Emma reaching out and slapping her across her pale face challengingly with a loud crack. “Come on! That’s all!? Who was gonna kick my ass again, huh?” She called her out, wanting to mark the challenging teen. It would either scare her away from any further contest, or if they did, it would permanently hinder her with this scar of shame, undermining her power to let Emma forever have the edge over her.

Kristen threw up her hands, trying to fend Emma off pathetically as she hit her with several more daring slaps. It wasn’t even pain anymore, it was just that she challenged her to stand up and fight back, but her body and spirit had given out.

“No… no, I give!” Kristen whimpered, lip quivering. “Just… just let me be…” she moaned.

Emma scoffed and grabbed her by the hair, forcing her back up to her shaky feet. “You want to step in the ring with me and get off that easy? Krissy, your nightmare’s just getting started. I’m gonna beat you until there’s a new moon.”

She cackled at her pun as she smacked Kristen hard across one cheek. She almost fell to one side if not for the ropes, catching herself by coincidence more than anything else. She groaned and rubbed her cheek, starting to right herself when Emma slapped her other cheek. She flung to the other side, lacking the remaining muscle to hold herself up and bouncing into the other ropes. She hung her head, arms and chest over them, panting wearily and rubbing her cheek. Emma came up behind her, ramming her knee into her ribs to knock the wind from her. While she still coughed out her emptied lungs, Emma went behind her and grabbed her hair, lifting her head up a bit before slamming it down onto the ropes, forcing her throat across the top rope and leaving her choking.

“That finally shut you up, slut? Not having the air to talk your fuckin’ trash and lie about how above average you are? Finally don’t have to put up with your bullshit!” Kristen drooled and gagged, flailing her arms for the ropes and really just hitting the air outside the ring, a comically pained display for the one side of the crowd who applauded Emma’s cruelty.

“Come on, don’t be selfish now,” Emma chided the strangled witless Kristen, who couldn’t process a response beyond sputtering up a big mouthful of drool that gathered in her blocked off mouth. “What about the rest of your fans? They want to see your proudest moment too!”

She grabbed Kristen’s hair, dragging her across the ring on her ass. Kristen wheezed out little bit of pained screams, the best she could muster as her hair made for a makeshift leash to lead her on to her own further punishment. Halfway, Emma lost her grip when there came a soft snapping and a shock of further pain in Kristen’s scalp, as she tore out a small collection of hair. Emma discarded it with a grimace like it was torn from a rat, shaking off her hair before taking another TWO fistfuls of hair, ripping Kristen over to the opposite bottom rope.

She shoved her head over it, this time through it rather than on. Instead, her bare breasts were mashed into the ropes, the taut chords feeling like they were threatening to floss right through her modest chest. Kristen screeched out anew, her throat clear this time to let her further express her pain. Emma grabbed and pulled her hair back like reigns, arching her back to mash her tits in further into the merciless rope and to force her head up, her crying, screaming face a portrait of agony itself for the crowd’s enjoyment. Let nobody say that Emma didn’t give back to her fans.

Emma added some spice to the mix by lifting her other foot to stomp onto Kristen’s ass, pressing her bare crotch into the mat as well. Kristen felt like she was being mashed into a pancake, grabbing towards the crowd for a sign of mercy in her world of hurt.

Emma finally released her when she seemed hoarse from screaming, grabbing her around the waist and slamming her backward to the mat. She rolled slowly in pain, face twisted shut as Emma marched after her prone body. She paraded herself before the crowd, wiggling her formally clad body and hips to flaunt her superiority over her foe. “I like your new outfit,” she grinned down at the unresponsive Kristen. “But even dressed down like that, you know you’re no contest for me. Not in looks, acting, or raw power!”

She leapt up and stomped both bare feet onto Kristen’s gut, making her buck wildly as her belly felt like it caved in. Emma rubbed her feet in as if she were wiping them off before entering a house, grinding around her abs and stomach all the more as she writhed beneath her. Emma casually did a delicate balancing act as she skipped from one foot to another, stamping into her guts until the red marks on her belly, if they weren’t so plentiful, looked like Emma had placed her mark on the walk of fame in Hollywood using her weak belly for cement.

“Come on, Kristen. You give yet? I know how proud and stubborn and STUPID you can be.” Emma stomped and ground in both her heels, Kristen retching and trying to collect enough air at once to confess her surrender. “Aww, speechless at my beauty? People get that a lot. Am I right folks?” Emma stuck her best improvised model pose, and what cameras were allowed in the league went off wildly.

“But I’m feeling generous,” Emma said, Kristen unable to form enough energy to even smile weakly at this point. “I’m gonna HELP you surrender.” She took a step back bracing herself and giving Kristen a second of limited breath before she skipped forward and slammed both feet onto Kristen’s gut from as high as she could from a standing jump.

“UAGHHUGHH-HAKK!” Kristen choked out as the air (and a fair amount of saliva) shot out of her mouth. “What was that, Krissy? You give up?” Emma leaned over, putting a hand mockingly to her ear. “I think that’s what I heard. Let’s try that again.” Emma leapt up and stomped her again, another similar explosion of sloppy breath spilling from her.

“That’s what I heard. What about you, all my looovely fans?” There was a general cheer from the crowd before she turned to Kristen. “Was that it? Were you just trying to surrender?”

Kristen nodded desperately. “Ohhh! Why didn’t you just say so!? Of course, you’re free to go.”

 Emma laughed and signaled her acceptance, the bell sounding again. Emma took a moment to arch her back and thrust her hips back, lifting up her skirt enough to grind her pantied ass lightly into the shivering Kristen’s face, letting the crowd take photos at their leisure before she slid out of the ring. She leaned in, planting a kiss on Kristen’s cheek as she pulled her hair lightly. “Thanks a lot,” she praised. “You’re the best thing to happen to my career, honest.”

Kristen took some time to get out of the ring, going back to her changing room. A few days later she got a call from her agent. Debra consoled and congratulated her on her effort, though she sounded rather glad about Kristen’s loss. Had Debra really thought she’d win back then, or just anything to get her to fight?

“But good news is, your career is safe. That fight really was just what you needed.”

“Well at least there’s that,” Kristen sighed, moving the ice pack from her belly to her crotch as she laid on her couch, talking to her cel.

“Got you a co-star role in an upcoming hit. It’s something called Pretty Fists. Adaptation of some anime or manga or some nonsense. All about girl boxers, and you get the lead.”

Kristen smiled a bit weakly. “Great, more fighting, “ she said in light sarcasm. “And I’ll be…?”

“Miyako. The one who enters the league alongside her best friend, even though she keeps losing she presses on, it’s very sweet, I assure you. And Emma says she can’t wait to be your co-star.”

“She… Emma who…?”

“Watson, silly. Your ‘tough but friendly tomboy best friend’ you face in the big long finale of the movie. Got to run, but she says she’s dying to get to do stage fighting practice with you later on. I’ll update you later! Bye!”