Meghan was the first girl Sara had ever hated. Sara was a quiet, nerdy girl with mousy brown hair and two size too big glasses. Thanks to her peerless dedication to scholarly pursuits and her clever insights into Shakespearean sonnets, she had won a coveted full ride scholarship to the prestigious Kyriarch University, the premiere east coast institution for higher learning. Determined to make the most of her opportunity, Sara had thrown herself into her studies with a zeal bordering on obsession. She spent her days studying alone in the library, or sipping lavender lattes at a local corner bookstore.
Meghan was the opposite in every way. She was a noisy, eternally excited party animal. She missed as many classes as she attended, regularly sleeping in late after partying all night. As the youngest ever member of the cheerleading squad, the sight of her long hazel ponytail bouncing up and down alongside her generous “pom-poms” was a much beloved sight at every football game. She had friends, followers, worshippers, everything except, in Sara’s opinion, a brain. On the rare occasions she was in class, she rarely spoke, and almost never gave a good answer to any questions. Sara suspected that the only reason Meghan had been admitted to Kyriarch was because her family’s name was carved into the stone arch above the school theater.
Under different circumstances, Sara had to admit she would not have cared about Meghan. How some spoiled bimbo chose to waste her life was of little concern. However, Sara had the dubious honor of being one of the university’s appointed tutors, and she had been saddled with the task of bringing Meghan’s grades up. Sara was forced to spend two hours every week suffering through Meghan’s stupidity. What made it truly unbearable was the thought of all the hard work Sara had done, the late nights, the relentlessly edited essays, and this girl had earned the exact same honor purely because her family was rich. It made Sara furious.
Sara kept her temper in check for just over a month, before the day she finally cut loose. The two girls had met in their usual spot, a private soundproof room in the library with the curtains closed so nobody could see in. She was working with Meghan on the cheerleader’s essay, fixing second grade spelling errors while Meghan texted her boyfriend. Sara had stayed up late last night and was still tired and grouchy, which is probably why she muttered under her breath, “too bad your brain isn’t as big as your tits.”
She had not meant for Meghan to hear, but the cheerleader snapped her head up as if stung. “What did you just say?” She demanded. Sara almost couldn’t believe herself. It felt like someone else was in control of her body, giving voice to all her private gripes. Before she could even think, she heard herself say,
“I said it’s a good thing your daddy is so rich, since your only hope of earning any money is standing on a street corner and whistling at strangers, you dollar store slut.”
Meghan reached over and slapped Sara across the cheek, hard. It was the first time she had ever been struck, but in addition to the pain, Sara felt something primal awaken deep in her bosom.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Meghan said with the venom of a hundred snakes, “you flat chested four eyed-“
SMACK!
Meghan reeled as Sara’s hand connected with her cheek. Sara stared down at her hand in shock, flexing her fingers open and closed. There was a new feeling there, a feeling of power, a feeling of control. It was incredible.
Meghan stared at her in shock, gently touching her cheek. A red imprint of Sara’s hand was slowly fading. “Oh, it is on, you-“
SMACK!
It felt even better the second time. Sara’s whole body was on fire, the good girl persona falling away to the primal thrill of combat. She would no longer be the ignored one, the girl that lived in everyone’s shadow. She was a queen, and she would secure her throne by destroying this pretentious bitch!
Unable to contain her excitement, Sara jumped forwards from her seat directly onto Meghan, taking her completely off guard. Meghan’s chair wobbled, then tumbled backwards, spilling both girls onto the rough library carpet. As they fell apart, Meghan desperately crawled towards the door, trying to escape. Sara refused to let that happen, not when she was in control.
Sara crawled after the busty cheerleader and clawed at her backside, trying to secure a hold. Meghan shrieked and kicked backwards. The kick caught Sara in the shoulder and knocked her to the ground with a bang. Meghan’s cheerleader training had left her legs with some serious muscle power. The pain was intense, but Sara growled and pushed through it. She jumped forwards, landing on top of Meghan just as her hand reached the doorknob. Meghan yelped as she was driven to the ground, her tits squishing against the library linoleum, but impressively holding their size. Sara seized her by her signature ponytail and yanked up, bending Meghan’s neck backwards. As Meghan began to cry out in agony, Sara released one hand to reach forwards and claw at her face, digging two fingers into her nostrils and pulling back hard.
“Yield to me!” She commanded. “Acknowledge me as your queen!”
Meghan screamed in response and grabbed Sara around the legs. In a sudden surge of power she forced herself to her feet, carrying Sara up with her. Before Sara realized what her plan was, Meghan had already backpedaled into the table, ramming Sara spine first into the hard wooden edge.
The pain was too much, and Sara released her hold with the yell of a wounded lioness. Meghan staggered away from her, shaking her head to steady herself before whipping about with smoldering eyes.
“I am going to fucking kill you, you worthless bitch,” she growled. There was a time such a declaration would have filled Sara with dread, but now she welcomed the challenge from one queen to another.
“I can’t wait to hear you scream your submission,” she practically purred with anticipation. Meghan lunged for her, and Sara charged to meet her. The two warrior queens collided in a meaty smack, claws flying, screeches rising, bodies twisting. Sara felt blow after blow fall on her face, her back, her chest, and she paid back each insult in kind. As she felt Meghan’s body strain against hers to the fullest extent of its power, she looked down and was struck by a sudden realization.
She was just as beautiful as Meghan, possibly even more so. Her whole life suddenly made sense. Why she had never made many friends, why she had never had a serious boyfriend. People were intimidated by her incredible beauty, so convinced of their own inferiority to her that they actively avoided her. She had spent her whole life laboring under the misapprehension that she was unpopular because of her plain looks, but it was the opposite. And now she would prove her dominance over the rest of the female race by conquering this girl, this representation of everyone who had ever put her down. This one moment would define the rest of her life.
She was so caught up in her visions of the future that she didn’t react in time as Meghan shoved her backwards, sending her staggering back against the table. As she growled and pushed herself forwards, she was suddenly caught by a high kick to the chest from Meghan’s powerful legs. Meghan’s shin caught her tits across the full length, flattening them completely and sending Sara reeling backwards, gasping for air.
Sara felt her anger return anew, burning with fresh fuel. How dare this lesser woman attack her tits, whose full size and beauty she had only just come to appreciate! Before she could retaliate, Meghan had already closed the distance between them and forced her backwards by the throat. In a moment of diabolic cunning, Sara thought of how best to end this fight. She suddenly jumped up onto the table behind her and raised her legs, knocking Meghan’s arms aside and wrapping her thighs around the cheerleader’s throat. She began to squeeze, her excitement rising as she saw Meghan’s shocked face start to turn purple.
“Yes! Yes!” She shouted with joy, knowing that her victory was mere seconds away. She was the victorious goddess! But as a scholar of literature, she should have remembered that pride goeth before the fall.
The deceptive strength of Meghan’s athletic frame came into play for the second time in the fight. Reaching forwards to seize Sara by the arms, Meghan reared back and hoisted her up into powerbomb position. As Sara stared down at the distant floor in shock, Meghan slammed her onto the table with all the force her aching body could muster. Sara felt her back slam into the hard wood for the second time. She screamed in agony and writhed about.
This time, the pain was different. Before, every strike had only served to make her stronger, angrier. But now, it was as though a dam had broken, and all her newfound resolve rushed out of her at once. She had no strength left to rise, no strength left to fight. She was at the mercy of her opponent.
Gasping in pain, she rolled off the table, flopping to the floor like a dead fish. She could see the door just a few feet away, and she began slowly crawling towards it. She was almost there when she felt a food drive down between her shoulder blades, forcing her to the ground. Her tits, still battered and aching from the kick earlier, collapsed inwards from the impact and she groaned at the realization that they were nowhere near as special as she had previously thought. She rolled over onto her back to stare up at her conqueror.
Meghan stood tall, her beach ball tits standing out proudly on her chest, her face still beautiful despite its scratches and slap marks, her hair wild and disarrayed but somehow more primally attractive. She glared down at Sara, who felt her delusions of grandeur evaporate. She was no goddess, just an ant at the feet of this queen, the true alpha on campus.
“Please, just let me go,” Sara moaned piteously. “I swear, I’ll never challenge you again.”
“Again? You weren’t even a challenge this time, bitch,” Meghan said with a contemptuous laugh. “Just look at yourself.” She whipped out her cell phone and snapped a few selfies of herself standing over Sara before passing the phone down so Sara could see. She saw a bronzed, muscular brunette goddess standing over a scrawny, pale skinned, mousy weakling. She began to cry. She had felt so strong just seconds ago, ready to fight the whole world, and now she never wanted to face another woman again.
“I could get you expelled for this, you know,” Meghan continued, basking in the glory of her victory for as long as possible. “But I think it will be more fun to keep you around, so you can remind me of how incredible I am. And if you want me to keep your secret, you’re going to have to do me some favors.” She dug her foot into Sara’s chest, causing Sara to moan with pain.
“Anything,” Sara begged, “I’ll do anything, just leave me alone.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” said Meghan. She turned and gathered her things. “I’ll send you over a list of my assignments tonight. I expect you to finish all of them, and I expect the work to be A quality, or I’ll track you down and give you another beating. Got it?” Sara just nodded, the tears still flowing freely. Meghan walked towards the door, pausing to step on Sara’s stomach one final time, before the true goddess left the library.
