Okay CatfightsbySarah asked for contributions to the MSE universe.
This is mine, I hope CatfightsbySarah forgives me.
[MSE] Welcome to the MSE
I stood in the middle of the school gym waiting for Lucy to show. The crowd, consisting of my friends and fellow pupils were all cheering, awaiting the violence to come.
My name is Cathy Browne, five foot five, with auburn hair. Slightly skinny with medium-sized breasts, nothing spectacular. People class me as a nerd, so yeah this is my first fight, but no I don't wear glasses. I was born and grew up under the MSE after it was adopted in the UK, my Mum and Dad still remember the 'Before Times'.
The MSE was a philosophy that instead of men fighting their wars, women fight individually one-on-one a much more honest and less devastating than the mass indiscriminate wars of men who were forbidden from fighting.
The time was you turned eighteen, you left school and before you went to University (Fluid Dynamics, sorry you asked, aren't you?), you went to the prom, maybe a boy asked you out, maybe you lost your virginity.
Now if two girls wanted to go with the same boy, often they would fight, in a secluded place like a dark alley. Now by the rules of the MSE, they could fight it out, officially, now it was sanctioned, and so given teenage hormones and emotions, they became more frequent. So frequent that they became part of the prom ritual. The school would hold "try-outs" for all girls old enough and who wanted to fight, to be held in the gym to decide who a boy would take to the prom. The more popular boys even had mini tournaments to decide who would go with them.
Eventually losing your MSE cherry at the proms became a thing. You're eighteen, old enough to fight in the MSE so why not combine the prom with your first fight? Fight for a guy, win him, then fuck him.
Not me. I wasn't going to do that.
I'd known Derek for two years; we'd shared our first kiss (it was fucking fantastic!). We'd been an item for ages, no jealous ex-girlfriends (okay no ex-girlfriends, I was his first) and that's who was going to take me to the prom.
Until that FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE Lucy challenged me to go to the prom with Derek.
FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE, she'd never shown any interest in my boyfriend Derek.
I'd never even had many dealings with her the only time was when she challenged me, in front of the entire school so I couldn't back out FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE!
I had been with Derek in the Lunch area when Lucy and a group of her friends, posse? Marched straight up to me.
"I Lucy Mathis challenge you, Cathy Browne, to go with Derek to the prom".
I turned to Derek; he seemed as stunned as me.
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out.
"Are you refusing a challenge, have you no honour?"
What the fuck was this honour? Mum and my sister had talked about fighting, but fighting before you came of age was frowned upon, something about preserving innocence. But my sister had gleefully given me accounts of her scraps, it all seemed a bit theoretical, like menopause, something that would happen someday, not now. Well, here it was now, in my face. Ready or not welcome to the MSE.
Was I going to do this? The alternative was to not accept, then I would forfeit the fight, I didn't care but then Lucy would take Derek to the prom, then I would have to sit in terms Loser's gallery and watch or not go to the prom at all. I'd picked a dress, Derek had his suit, and we'd booked the limo I was so looking forward to it.
FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE, FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE, FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE, FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE.
The phrase, the words, boiled up from somewhere deep inside me. I was scared, but I was also angry. No, I was not going to let her get away with this. I would fight.
"I accept" It seemed like my voice came from a distant place.
She just replied with a casual "See you at the try-outs". And walked off.
Derek turned to me, panicking.
"I don't know who she is."
"I know, she doesn't want you, she wants me. She wants a fight for the prom".
Some girls did that. In theory, it was supposed to settle teenage rivalry the MSE way, but some girls just used it as an excuse to pick a fight. The ritual into womanhood is your first MSE fight.
"But why you?" He asked.
"Because she's sure she can beat me". I grimly replied.
What had seemed like a train in the far distance was now hitting me full force.
In the before days, you used to have the couples and then all the people who didn’t get a date sitting alone, now with our kinder gentler machine gun hand, you had the loser's gallery; all the girls who lost their challenges were required to all sit together, in a gallery that ran around the gym, watching the 'The Prize', (they weren't ages or boyfriends, they were 'Prizes') who they lost, dancing with the winner. Of course, 'The Prize' wasn't allowed any contact with the loser, none of this ditching your date and talking to someone else. Oh no, These were the rules in this Brave New World. Used to schools avoided any mention of 'Winners' and 'Losers', now they practically rub your face in it.
Welcome to the MSE.
"We've got a kinder gentler machine gun hand". That's a phrase from one of Dad's old CDs and I think it's rather relevant today.
This was surreal, I knew my time would come, eventually, but I just didn't expect it to be now, that I would be losing my MSE cherry at the prom try-outs. They were classed as honour fights, and catfights, with very few rules, we weren't expected to be skilled. just don’t permanently main, disfigure or kill your opponent. Nails cut short; everyone was barefoot, and a referee would be present just to stop things if people got carried away and yep sometimes to carry away the loser. They were held a week before the proms, so all the bruises could heal. Like all the other girls doing this, I was to get picked up in a limo wearing my best fight clothes and taken to the gym alone. No parents or sisters, just like the prom, we were adults now.
My mum hugged me to wish me luck "My little girl's all grown up, I'm so proud of you" And yeah, she did cry a bit. My dad said that win lose or draw he'd still love me, while my sister just told me to "go fuck her up". I walked out to the waiting limo they'd hired for the occasion. This was it, ready or not here I come.
The limo driver was nice. He asked if I was excited for my first fight. I just mumbled something.
"You're scared, I've taken lots of girls to their first fight. Is it a ‘he’ you are fighting for?" He smiled "You can never be too sure these days".
"Yes, he's called Derek”, I answered.
"Derek's very lucky to have you fighting for him. Have you known him long?"
"Two years"
"Oh, and I bet your opponent just came in a challenged you because she wanted her first fight to be at the prom. She doesn't care about the boy, she just picked you because she thought she could beat you, she's one of those hoping to make a name for herself. It's not against the rules but...”.
I nodded in the affirmative.
“I see it all the time. But you’re going to win”. he said confidently. “You know how I know that?”
“How?” I asked.
"Because you've got heart".
He patted his chest.
"It's always better to fight for something you care about, she hasn't got anything.".
He stared at me in the mirror.
"You're a fighter, you might not know it, but you are. I can tell these things”.
As we pulled up, he opened the limo doors for me and spoke.
"Good luck, I expect to pick you up next week..." Then he added.
“…With your boyfriend”. He patted his chest.
"Thank you," I said.
I walked into the school, through registration, past the girls posing for a photograph and into the gym. The mats where the fights would take place were in the Centre of the gym, with all the spectators excitedly gathered around. There was a refreshment stand selling energy bars, water, and alcoholic drinks. There were banners and lights, the atmosphere was like the prom itself. There was a gallery which ran all around the walls of the gym, this was where all the 'Prizes’ were supposed to sit.
As I walked in, Derek ran to meet me.
"Cathy I..."
I shooed him away.
"You should be in the gallery, not here. We can't be seen together..." I explained.
"But..."
"You're the 'prize' and 'the prize' can't take a side. You're supposed to be in the gallery. If the teachers see you...".
I looked at his face and saw the look - helplessness. I felt sorry for him, it would always be like this, I would always have to be the fighter while he would always be the one to watch and worry. There was a time when it would have been me being helpless, but now it's him. Is this progress or just the same shit different day?
He looked crestfallen. Then I noticed one of the teachers starting to look my way. I quickly walked away. I hated doing it, but the 'prize' cannot take a side in a challenge, it is an immediate sanction for him if he's seen to do it, at best endless weeks with a counsellor at worse lose your university place. So, I walked on.
"Hi". It was Sharon. Wow, she had really made an effort with the make-up, she looked stunning.,
"I'm so excited. Just looked at the listings. I'm on first, you're on after me. Tonight's the night I claim Tony".
She was a sweet bubbly blonde, wearing a bright yellow robe and matching fight gear. She was a friend I had known for years, but 'claiming' him? He's not lost luggage you know. Sharon had been sweet on this boy for ages, his girlfriend objected and called her out. So tonight, they would settle it.
I noticed she was drinking the alcoholic punch from the refreshment stand. She was giddy with excitement; she was eighteen, and she could fight, and drink alcohol, ( thank God when we imported the MSE from the Yanks we didn't import their legal drinking age rules, what is it? 35?). I didn't want to burst her bubble, but Mum and sister had warned me about not drinking alcohol and having an empty bladder before a fight.
She frowned.
"I'm gonna kick that bitch’s arse, Tony is mine".
Just then she was called to the mats. She walked into the mats and handed the referee her robes, standing there in a yellow sports bra and matching trunks. Most of us wore sports bras, favouriting practicality over glamour, apart from some sluts who were more concerned with showing off their tits who wore bikinis, there was no dress code, we were classed as adults after all, you could fight naked if you wanted, nobody did though.
Sharon's opponent, the girlfriend, I didn't know her name, handed her robes to one of her friends. They stood facing each other, in the centre of the mats, they were both blondes, Sharon had slightly longer hair, they looked like they could be sisters. The girlfriend was in a golden sports bra ensemble. The betting was fifty-fifty on them, unlike the betting on me, nine to one I got told, I tried not to think about that. They slowly deliberately, walked towards each other, waiting for the referee's signal, they were both nervous, and I saw Sharon bite her bottom lip.
"Tony is mine, bitch" Sharon said defiantly.
"Tony has always been mine, and we're going to settle it for good when I fuck you up". Was the equally defiant reply.
The referee called out "Fight."
As they closed together, the girlfriend shot out a kick straight into Sharon’s stomach. Sharon gasped as she folded and the girlfriend hammered two-fisted blows down on Sharon’s back without mercy, with each two-fisted blow she grunted and Sharon groaned, her groans growing louder with each blow, until Sharon collapsed face first to the floor. Fuck!
The girlfriend looked down and then started kicking. Panicking, Sharon tried to cover up, but too many kicks were getting through. It wasn't pretty. Eventually, Sharon stopped moving and just started twitching, I think she was sobbing, and a damp patch started appearing between her legs, seeping into the mats. The girlfriend looked and just laughed.
"You thought you could take me, slut! You're just a damp squib!"
A photographer walked onto the mats and the yearbook photo session started. The girlfriend posed, holding up Sharon’s limp drooling face as the photographer snapped away. When he was finished, the girlfriend just dropped Sharon's head like it was dirt and started showing off waving to the crowd. Sharon slowly got up and walked, well limped, away crying freely, leaving her victorious opponent enjoying the cheers of the crowd.
The make-up she had applied so carefully, was just a mess, mascara mingled with her tears. I looked at the damp stain on the crotch of her yellow trunks, shouldn't have drunk that punch I thought. Sharon saw the direction of my stare and smiled weakly ashamed. Then it occurred to me that she hadn't brought a change of clothes and would have to spend the rest of the evening and the ride home, with the wetness.
Please God, please God, don't let this happen to me in front of all my friends. Please, God. The horrifying thought flashed through my mind.
“Good luck, I hope you’ll do better than me”. She said as she passed me.
dn't do any worse!" I thought, then hated myself for it, she was my friend, maybe now she would move on and find somebody better than that asshole.
A pause while they changed the damp mats, and then it was my turn. I felt tightening in my stomach, please God, please God... Uncertain of my fate. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body, every beat of my heart was like a drum.
I walked to the centre of the mats; all I could hear was 'Do not forsake me oh my darling" playing in a continuous loop inside my head.
Before I got too far, Angela, one of my friends stopped me.
"I think you dropped this."
She handed me a Lockett, it was two boxing gloves, and on the other side was engraved a heart.
"I have NO idea where it came from. You must have an admirer".
I looked at the locket, I knew who it was from, and put it on.
Angela looked at me.
"I know you're the underdog in this. But we all are rooting for you."
She smiled.
"Your mysterious admirer most of all. I think he'd be heartbroken if you lost..."
She giggled.
"...Whoever he is."
"Thanks, Ange, that means a lot".
I waited in the centre and started doing stretching exercises like I'd seen on TV. Waiting for my opponent, accepting my fate. In the gallery, I saw Derek making punching gestures, I smiled and held my locket for him to see. "Thank you" I mouth the words.
And then Lucy came in, well she skipped in. Waving at her friends. Lucy was an inch or so taller than me. She was not fat, not really, but she had a bigger stomach and massively bigger tits, which she emphasized by wearing a bikini, not a sports bra, a bright red bikini, which did little to contain her bouncing breasts, jiggling as she skipped like jelly on a plate.
Passing a couple of friends, she slipped off her robes, handing them to her friends for safekeeping. If they were anything like mine, they must have cost a pretty penny. Parents always made a big deal of the robes you would wear to your first fight; Mum had taken me out and we'd spent an entire day choosing them. I know my mum and my sister keep their robes with their prom dresses. I'd chosen a tasteful red, white, and blue ensemble.
She stopped and stood about a foot away and then pointed at me and then made some elaborate hand movements detailing what she would do to me. I just stood there, waiting. God, I wanted to fuck her up. Maybe I couldn't beat her, but I would hurt her. FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE!!
She moved towards me with a smile on her face and her hand outstretched.
"May the best girl win, eh?"
I looked at the hand, then her face. Her smile was fake, and so was the offer of sportsmanship, with as much contempt as I could muster. I slapped it out of the way. She turned to her friends a theatrically hurt look on her face.
"Little girl thinks she's tough. I'm soo scared!".
The referee called out "Fight".
We moved towards each other I got my fist ready. Before I could get my shot in, she slapped me hard in the face.
CRACK!
I staggered back. I could feel the red glow on my cheeks. She was gloating now. I regained my balance and catching her mind gloat, swung a fist into her belly, it sank in deep. She gasped and staggered. I wasn't going down that easily.
"Come on fatty". I taunted.
Enraged she swung a punch at my head, I ducked and fired a left uppercut into her tit. It wobbled, fighting desperately to escape the bikini.
She swung a backhand to my head, I staggered, and my lip started bleeding.
With that she charged me, barrelling me to the floor. Then sitting on my chest, she started to bang my head into the padded floor. All her friends cheered her on. I was desperate, the bitch had me.
I swung a left-handed haymaker at her left boob, totally knocking it out of her bikini top. With my right hand, I swung for her face; her nose started bleeding. She shrieked.
I started kicking with my legs, unseating her, then a two-footed kick into her breasts, they mushroomed out as I flattened them, kicking her away. The breasts rebounded back to the old shape, flying out of her bikini.
Landing on her bum, she scrambled to get up. Once she stood, she angrily stuffed her breasts back into her bikini, they weren't going back into captivity without a struggle. Then she paused, smiled and then deliberately, like she was doing a striptease, took her bikini top off and threw it to the audience, who of course cheered wildly. I think she wanted to show off those big tits all along.
Slut.
Meanwhile, I tried to clear my head of the stars and bluebirds flying around my head.
We looked at each other and snarling we surged together, this time going for hair, it felt like my head was on fire. We twisted around trying to unbalance the other yanking each other's head from side to side. She yanked me hard to the side, nearly pulling me off my feet, I pulled harder on her hair and felt a satisfying snap as I pulled some out. She tried to get me in a headlock, her fingers came for my face, maybe my eyes. Instead of going for her wrists, I went for her fingers, at first, she didn't know what I was doing until I bent her fingers back hard, over her scream I could not hear if I could hear anything snap, shame.
I swung a punch to her face; it made a satisfying crunch. I got her eye and I saw it discolour.
I swung again hitting her cheek.
Then suddenly she unleashed a punch right into my stomach, my eyes bulged, and I gasped, staggering. She had put her whole body weight behind that punch. I realised I could not out-punch her.
Then came the second punch. My stomach was cramped, and I opened my mouth to vomit, only a thin stream of spittle came out.
She stood back, proud of her handiwork.
"Fucking minger, leave my tits alone!"
"Make me" I replied.
"You're just jealous" she said cupping her breasts.
"These are why they call me Juicy Lucy, what do they call you? Tiny Tits?"
She gestured beckoning at me with her hands.
We circled our hands feinting at each other. Then suddenly she grasped my hand and pulled me into her chest. I got a face full of fleshy sweaty tit, I was overwhelmed by the aroma. Then her left arm wrapped snugly around my neck, right hand cupping the back of my head, she pulled me into her cleavage, the sweaty flesh sealed tightly against my mouth and nostrils. I panicked as the her rack blotted out the light and deprived me of oxygen ? I pushed frantically at Lucy’s flanks with my hands and tried desperately to find freedom by turning my head, but I couldn't dislodge the seal or find any escape from the hot confines of her fleshy prison.
Shit, I was drowning in her sweaty breasts. I could feel myself growing more and more groggy with each passing second that I spent trapped in the bitch’s clutches. Then she started playfully shaking me from side to side, waving at her friends, trying to dig me in deeper, my arms waving wildly, uselessly.
"Worship them, you little shit". She proclaimed, she was humiliating me, but that was the idea, wasn't it?
I was starting to feel light-headed but no dammit, I was not going down like this I was not sitting in the loser's gallery, watching that fat slag dancing with Derek.
"Derek is gonna have so much fun with these" she crowed.
All I could manage was a muffled "mmmmmmh"
Then my knee hit her crotch and she stopped crowing. Her eyes opened like saucers, and I could hear the faint gasp of the breath leaving her lungs. It was like music to my ears.
Immediately she released my head as her hands reached for her crotch, I just staggered back, coughing. The black dots that floated across my vision didn’t help much. We both stood apart, me desperately trying to get air into my lungs, she was massaging her crotch.
The crowd were called out for us to finish the other bitch off, while we were both more concerned with trying to stand up straight.
As we stood facing each other low moaning sounds were coming from both of us. We were both battered, bruised and sweaty messes. We didn't know how long we could carry on, but we both knew that it couldn’t be a draw, there had to be a winner and both of us were determined to be that winner.
But my spirits were rising, FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE thought she would use me as a punching bag and show off in front of her friends. but I had hurt her, I had hurt her badly. My dad had said "Never start a fight, but always finish it" Mum had disagreed saying it was sometimes necessary to start a fight and anyway what would he know, but I agreed with Dad. I hadn't asked for this fight, I felt like shit, but I was determined to finish it, finish her. Is this the 'Personal Honour" they talk about?
And I had a plan, but it was gonna hurt.
I reached behind my back and undid the clasp on my sports bra. I let it drop. I tried to be casual about it, but up to now my Mum and my sister had been the only people to see my bare breasts, I imagined Derek's face in the gallery, but this was the only way to victory. All my inhibitions had gone, I was no longer the girl I was at the start of the fight, I was channeling something primal.
"Come on slag," I said. "Let's see whose tits are tougher.
I reached out with my hands making clawing motions.
Her friends called to her
"C'mon juicy rip her tits off"
"They're only silicon, after all”, I added, which got a reaction, especially when some of her friends tittered. I was sounding braver than I felt, but I wanted her angry. Her face turned a deep shade of crimson a mask of hatred screeching as her hands shot out and went for my breasts,
I felt the agonising pain as she dug her nails in as I reached out for her bare breasts greedily grabbing as much of her breasts as I could into my hands. I saw the red scratches on my breasts, but ignored the pain and dug in harder, watching her flesh ooze out between my fingers. I smiled through my tearful eyes as I heard her gasp.
I had never done anything like this before, never even touched another woman's breast. I remembered my sister telling me in great detail about what she had done to a rival at work. I was never going to outpunch her. I went for the scientific approach, try different techniques; see which hurt her the most and do it again harder. Imagine you're kneading bread my sister had said.
She pushed me back, twisting with her nails, they weren't long but God they hurt. I gasped and dug in harder, proving to her that I had nails too, as I tried to turn her breasts into a roadmap. I pushed her and she moved back, her turn to gasp.
Enclosing Lucy's breasts in my clenched hands, like I was squeezing a bottle, I formed my hands into fists, and then I squeezed like I was wringing out a dishcloth.
Then she sobbed.
I twisted my fists, gaining more levetage.
She started wailing.
Through my pain, I could see it. I fucking had her. I could feel her grip weakening and I could see her legs buckling. You shouldn't have brought big tits into a tit-mauling contest, dump fuck. So proud of those big tits, I knew she wouldn't refuse my tit challenge, those big targets, so sensitive, especially ones I’ve already kicked and punched. Dumb FUCKINGSHITSLUTSLAGWHORE!
I pushed her down to her knees. She released her hands from my breasts and tried to pull my hands off hers. I just dug in harder.
"No please..." She was starting to plead now. I had what my mother called 'The Fever' all that existed was the destruction of this bitch. I shouted into her face covering her in my spittle.
"FUCKING" I pulled her tits up. Tears fell from her eyes.
"SHIT" I pulled her tits down. Not so fucking juicy now, are they?
"SLUT" I pulled them out, away from her body, stretching her nipples, she whimpered.
"SLAG" I mashed them together. The floodgates opened, and she looked worse than Sharon.
"WHORE” I tugged at her fat nipples. She was just blabbing incoherently now.
This was never about her stealing Derek from me, don't be fucking stupid. This was about her pushing me out of the way like I was nothing. I'm not nothing, I may not have the prettiest looks or the biggest tits, but I am not nothing. This is my personal honour.
I had fucked her, I was standing over her, kneeling, pleading body. She was pleading with me, with me. My breasts ached like buggery, but I had fucked her good. Weakly, she tried a low blow to my crotch I slapped her hand out of the way and twisted her arm until it was halfway up her back, and she stopped sobbing long enough to scream.
A knee to her face shut her up and she fell back to the floor, curling into a foetal position freely crying now. I kicked at her again to emphasise my victory.
"Derek is mine you piece of shit!"
I posed for all the official photographs to go in my yearbook. I did the pose with her head under my foot and the one where I held her sobbing head aloft like a trophy, the usual. Ritual complete, Sharon and my friends came over to congratulate me.
I couldn't wait to tell Mum and Dad.
I turned to Derek. His face had a look of relief, worry and love.
"Are you alright? I thought she'd..."
No, instead I'd well and truly fucked her, I'd done it.
I'd beaten her.
I won. I'd wave to her in the loser's gallery on Prom night.
I'm alive,
I'm a mess.
Maybe I could get used to this.
Welcome to the rest of your life baby.
Welcome to the MSE.
I turned to look at him and smiled.
"She tried, but I tried harder."
I grabbed his arm.
"Looks like we have a prom to go to".
