[the_walkin_dude]

that was terrific walkin dude.  You are who so many of us followed serving as the role model

Thanks Interac, I appreciate that more than you know. Along related lines, many thanks to you for using Janet Montgomery on a regular basis, I think she's a fantastic fighting muse and it's great to see her in action here.

~rf

[Interac]

that was terrific walkin dude.  You are who so many of us followed serving as the role model

Thanks Interac, I appreciate that more than you know. Along related lines, many thanks to you for using Janet Montgomery on a regular basis, I think she's a fantastic fighting muse and it's great to see her in action here.

~rf

Thanks she has been by far my favorite and brought me back into writing

[Dradis]

Natasha Romanov, the renowned Black Widow, was no stranger to the world of femme versus femme combat.  She had experienced the whole gamut, from the rough and tumble to the lurid.  Though many would-be opponents sought to cross her path, it usually took something really noteworthy to make any one stand out against the others; but when that did happen, the confrontation was sure to be a memorable one.  Take for example one Sondra Pranksy.  By most metrics, Sondra shouldn’t have been a match for Natasha.  She was not some superhuman or trained fighting expert, just a mousy little blonde – a journalist, of all things.  But where Sondra lacked in martial prowess, she made up for it by offering a truly unique challenge – and in the manner of duel that she had proposed, there was no question that she would be a formidable rival for Natasha.  And so they met in a contest that thus far had proven to be quite competitive.

The battle felt like it had been dragging on for hours.  Surely it had not been literally that long since they had started, but by now both women had lost track of time – the penthouse was vacant save for the two of them, and no one else was there to mark its passage for them.  Alone in their own little world, the only event that would have any significance would be when one ascended to victory and the other fell into defeat.  Natasha in her black silk panties was aching and exhausted; she was covered in sweat and her chin-length red hair clung stringily to the side of her head.  Sondra in her red cotton panties was hardly any better off; with her flaxen hair up in a bun that had become half-disheveled, she was similarly parched and sweaty.

Both women had their hands clasped around the back of the other’s neck like a lover, and from here they pulled themselves into each other as their bare breasts collided between them.  The air was filled with a steady drumbeat of jug smacking into jug, accompanied by the roar of guttural and anguished cries from redhead and blonde alike.  Their pace was slow, but they were making every hit count as they put as much force into it as they could to maximize the violence of each impact.  The two sets of breasts sometimes came together head-on, sometimes striking from side to side.  Both Natasha and Sondra were all but in tears by now as their battered orbs throbbed painfully with each dreadful contact, but still they pressed on.

It was uncanny to Natasha just how evenly matched Sondra was against her.  How such a woman could exist with a body that proportioned so perfectly to mirror her own was a conundrum that neither she nor the blonde would ever likely learn the answer to.  But when all was said and done, one thing was certain – she and Sondra would not be equals.  One of them was destined to prevail over the other.  And Natasha was determined to see that she would be that one.

Unclasping her hands and moving them to grasp Sondra’s shoulders, Natasha used the leverage to start thrusting her chest forward at a more fervent pace and with all of the strength that she had left to draw upon.  Sondra’s facial expression twisted into a tortured visage as her lips poured forth one agonized wail after another.  The blonde was backpedaling now as the frenzied strikes piled on, and for a moment it looked like her chest was finally about to give way to the redhead’s.  However, Sondra suddenly seemed to find resolve as she planted her feet, matched Natasha’s grip, and started dishing back as good as she got.  The two pairs of breasts smashed straight into together once, twice, and then a third time in short succession; a fourth blow broke the impasse as it buckled the redhead’s legs and knocked her to the floor on her ass.

Natasha sniveled as she sat half-reclined and propped up only by her forearms beneath her.  The pain in her breasts seemed to finally be overwhelming her, and she had no idea how much more abuse they were capable of withstanding.  But as her composure returned, she looked up and saw Sondra staring back down at her.  The blonde likewise seemed quite shaken per the expression on her face, but there were zero signs of quit in her eyes as she gazed back down at the redhead – hurting though she may be, Sondra was fully intent on finishing things.  Deep within Natasha’s heart, a fire ignited unlike any that had ever burned there before; her face formed into a raging scowl as she rose to her feet so that she could meet her blonde foe for the final stretch of their clash.

With the two coming into arm’s reach once again, the redhead seized the initiative as she rammed her tits straight into the blonde’s.  Both women’s faces contorted as abraded skin mashed together and as stiff nipples speared into opposing jug.  After a prolonged stretch grinding together, the two racks separated and drove into each other again – this impact put a visible wobble in Sondra’s legs and sent her backing up with a tired groan.  Natasha lined up for another hit, but on her way in her foe dipped slightly and she was met by the counterthrust of Sondra’s tits into the undersides of her own.  The pain staggered the redhead in place and sent her reeling – she was now wide open as the blonde let loose and began to swing for the fences.  Sondra’s breasts clubbed back and forth into hers from each side, rocking her again and again as she cried out; one last frontal blow plowed into Natasha’s chest and sent her crashing to the floor for a second time with a loud wail.

There was no hiding the depths of her suffering this time.  Natasha bawled as she lay on her back and cradled her ransacked breasts in her hands.  There was also no resistance she could offer as Sondra straddled her waist and pried those hands away, pinning her wrists to the floor.  The blonde dropped down swiftly and slammed her tits into the redhead’s, coercing out an anguished scream; as they were lifted off of Natasha’s chest, they smashed down a second time moments later and drew out yet another howl.  Over and over and over again Natasha felt her tits being pounded by Sondra’s, her anguished screams steadily devolving until she reached a state of sobbing incoherence; one final blow caused the battered orbs to yield completely as they were crushed by the dominant pair.

A triumphant smile formed on Sondra’s lips as she pushed down with her breasts into Natasha’s, her firm pair mashing the redhead’s beaten set flat beneath them as she made a demand: “Whose are better?  Say it!”

“Yours,” Natasha wept, “Yours are better.”

Sondra purred and leaned forward, dragging her breasts up until they were dangling above Natasha’s head.  “Now little spider, you know what comes next.  Don’t keep me waiting.”

Natasha whimpered as she brought her lips up to Sondra’s bosom and began to suckle on the blonde’s nipple.  This was but the beginning of the worship she would have to provide to the other girl’s superior pair – there was no option other than to comply.

[Jackflash Jump]

More magic from the Walkin Dude!

I don't know about you, but when I got this jewel in my mail box this afternoon, I just knew that 2021 is off to a spectacular start.  

Chloë Grace Moretz vs Naomi Scott

They’d met before the fight, or perhaps it was more accurate to say they’d encountered one another before the fight. They’d nodded across crowds at a few of the same premieres, posed in a couple of group shots at the same parties and each could distinctly recall a brief, though spirited discussion about their shared distaste for one Bella Thorne on the back lawn of the house they now occupied.

However it wasn’t until they’d been invited to battle on the Casting Couch at the house in Coldheart Canyon that Chloe Grace-Moretz and Naomi Scott properly introduced themselves to one another.

It took each young woman roughly ten minutes to understand that she loathed her adversary for the evening.

A word on the venue.

The ‘Casting Couch’ wasn’t a literal piece of furniture, nor was it a poorly veiled euphemism for some corpulent talent agent’s weekend love nest. Rather it’s one of many, let’s call them unique, design features of an old (it’d just celebrated its centennial the year prior) mansion tucked away in a seldom visited stretch of the Hollywood Hills. Imagine if you will, a large room furnished to evoke thoughts of old Hollywood glamour. In the center of this room is a sunken square measuring twenty feet on each side. The square is four feet deep, covered in a thick, cream-colored carpet and three of its four sides are lined with sectional couches, thus allowing for two to three dozen guests to sit and observe. The fourth side is similarly furnished, though the seating is interrupted by the short set of steps that grant entrance and egress to the space. The couches on either side of these steps are the only two possessed of arm rests and were highly sought after, when guests were still allowed at these bouts.

Back in the bad old days, the couches were occupied by all sorts of executives, agents, directors and studio heads, each ‘looking for their next star’ among the women that came to the house in Coldheart Canyon to make a name for themselves or settle a longstanding grudge. Of course these ‘ringside seats’ were nothing more than a veiled excuse for the suits in attendance to cop a feel in the midst of a pitched battle and the practice was abruptly discontinued in the early nineties when a particularly odious record company executive had his jaw broken by a redhead who will remain nameless. Not that the fights stopped, mind you. Indeed their popularity increased overnight once the potential participants realized they didn’t have to prepare for anyone other than their opponent.

And so it was that Chloe Grace Moretz and Naomi Scott were invited to that grand old house up in a forgotten corner of the Hollywood Hills. A mutual patron knew the blonde fancied herself an arm collector, as she’d submitted several foes with nothing more complicated than a Hammerlock applied from various angles while the brunette had made a name in the last couple of years with an Iron Claw that yielded several bawling surrenders when applied to face or belly.

This patron offered up Coldheart Canyon and several zeroes as incentive. Each accepted within minutes.

The money was excellent, neither would argue that point. But the prospect of submitting a potential rival within the confines of the Casting Couch? To add her reedy, hopeless voice to the chorus of defeated wails that’d sounded throughout that large, elegantly appointed room for more than a century?

That went beyond money. That was pricel--

“HHHHRRRGGGK!” Chloe made an ugly grating sound from deep in the back of her throat when Naomi drove a knee into her belly for what felt like the tenth time in less than thirty seconds. Scott smiled at the breathless anguish in that sound, but the expression faded when the tenacious blonde tightened down on the Hammerlock that had Naomi’s left hand wrenched up between her own shoulders.

“Stubborn bitch.” the brunette growled through clenched teeth. “Let go of my goddamned arMAAARRRHHH FUCK YOU!”

Moretz shook her head ‘no’, sucked in a ragged breath as she tried to squirm her way to a better seat. She was seated on the floor with her sweat-tacky back pressed snug to one of the long couches, about five feet removed from the steps leading up to the rest of the room. Scott was half in her lap, the pink clad battler seated awkwardly astride the blonde’s left thigh. The arrangement was a stalemate they both hated, as Chloe had hold of Naomi’s trapped arm at wrist and elbow, while Scott’s right knee was in perfect position to gouge her foe’s tummy with near impunity.

“Tell ya what, candy-ass,” Chloe huffed, “I’ll let go of your arm as soon as you get that fat fucking knee out of my stomHHHHRRRGGGHH!”

Scott hit her again, the trapped battler drawing her right leg as far back as it’d go before driving the bony joint deep into Moretz’s gulping midsection. “Got a better idea.” Scott let her forehead rest on the seat cushion because the blonde’s touch made her want to scream. “Let go of my arm and I won’t jam my knee right through this pudding you call a belly. Oh, and if you puke on me I swear to god you’ll pay for AAAAAAAAAHHH SHIT!”

Nausea be damned, Chloe gathered her strength and CRANKED up on the Hammerlock with the kind of ferocity she usually reserved for Emma Watson. “TAP OUT!” the blonde shrieked as Scotty’s writhing put even more pressure on Moretz’s left knee. “I’LL BREAK IT, NAOMI!” she bellowed to the empty room. “DON’T FUCKING TEST ME, BECAUSE I’LL BREAK MMMPPPPHHHHH!”

Chloe had thrown her head back to voice this declaration and Naomi made her pay for it by pressing her right hand tight to the blonde’s mouth and nose. It was definitely more HOM than Iron Claw, but it didn’t much matter to either of them once Scott pinched Chloe’s nostrils between thumb and forefinger. Dark eyes wide and rolling, Moretz still refused to relinquish the Hammerlock even though her grip had loosened in time with Palm Smother. Burning energy she couldn’t afford to lose, Chloe fought to get free of that malicious mitt if only to sink her teeth into the soft flesh between thumb and forefing-- “HHHHHRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH!”

Scott skewered her foe with another knee strike, only this time she drove it into the center of the blonde’s leopard-print briefs. The iron grip on her left arm rusted to nothing and Naomi screamed her relief into the couch as she rolled that shoulder for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Chuuuuhhh…. cheating whore.” Moretz sobbed when Scotty pulled her hand away. “You went fucking lowoooohhhhhh ooooowwwwwww HRRRGGHH!”

Naomi scrambled backward, snatched her rival by the ankles and dragged her to the middle of the carpet like a cavewoman, whereupon reaching she stretched the blonde’s legs wide and stomped a heel into the pit of her stomach! Chloe folded up or at least tried, she didn’t even make it to a seat before Naomi nudged her down flat again.

“You’ve been pulling my hair and raking my briefs all night.” Scott sniffed after she’d dropped Moretz’s legs. “Not my fault those receipts come with interest.”

“Duuuhhh… don’t you dare act like that was just me.” Grace Moretz answered in gut-shot agony. “We’ve been playing rough since the very beginnHOOOFFFHHH AAAWWWW GAWD!”

Naomi didn’t have the energy to jump, she simply let herself drop ass-first into the pit of the blonde’s stomach! She shuddered from one end to the other, not that it was enough to dismount her rider, who was already stretching out to pin her down in a gulping, groaning starfish. Snaking her calves in under Chloe’s, the brunette stretched the Grapevine wide even before she’d collected her rival’s wrists. The god awful ache in her left arm convinced Naomi to keep it angled across the hollow of Moretz’s throat while her right hand kept the blonde’s wrists bound together on the carpet overhead.

Deep breaths forced Scott’s flat midriff tight to Chloe’s abused abs, making what’d been an even contest thirty minutes prior now little more than a one-sided drubbing.

“Quit.” Naomi demanded, her dark eyes shining. “I want to hear you say it, Chloe.”

“Never.” Moretz’s answer was little more than a rasp thanks to the prolonged punishment and that encroaching forearm. “Kuuuhhh…kiss my ass, you sneaking bitNGH! NGH! NGH! NGH! NNNNNGGGHHHHH! STOP! STOP FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I SUBMIT!”

Infuriated by the denial, Scott pushed up by a good six inches, then dove down with as much force as she could muster. One felt good and two was downright satisfying, but Naomi didn’t really find her rhythm ‘til the fourth collision which was why it was so disappointing to hear Chloe break down shortly thereafter.

“HHHHRRRGGGGH! No more! No more!” Moretz wailed following the seventh sawed-off Splash. “I submit godammit, just leave me alo--”

Scott moved her left hand to the side of Chloe’s face and twisted her head to the side so she could put her lips to the blonde’s ear. “Quit, bitch. That’s why the chime hasn’t sounded and we both know it. Say it loud, if you still can.”

Chloe closed her eyes, willing the tears down even as her stomach churned like a spasmodic washing machine. “I quit.” her voice was loud and clear, then noticeably shakier when the silence continued smooth and unbroken. “I QUIT! I QUIT, JUST GET OFFFFFFFF!”

The chime sounded and Naomi clambered to her knees, the sweat-soaked grappler smoothing her hair with both hands despite the painful ache in her left arm. Expression darkening as she felt a bit of movement from the blonde, Scotty flicked out a hand to CRACK Moretz across the cheek.

“That’s for trying to break my arm.” she explained to Chloe, who regarded her with hating ‘how could you?’ eyes.

“You went to my trunks.” Chloe growled. “I’ll remember that when I get my rematchhhhhhnnnnnngggggggghhhh!”

Tired of the loser’s threats, Naomi Scott got to her feet and very deliberately pressed her right heel to the fork of Chloe’s crotch. Offering up a weary, yet exultant double bicep flex to whoever was watching from elsewhere in the house, Naomi bounced that planted heel one more time before she strode up the steps leading away from the Casting Couch.

[the_walkin_dude]

“Yours,” Natasha wept, “Yours are better.”

Sondra purred and leaned forward, dragging her breasts up until they were dangling above Natasha’s head.  “Now little spider, you know what comes next.  Don’t keep me waiting.”

Natasha whimpered as she brought her lips up to Sondra’s bosom and began to suckle on the blonde’s nipple.  This was but the beginning of the worship she would have to provide to the other girl’s superior pair – there was no option other than to comply.

Excellent work, good sir! I remember you floating this idea in one of our previous conversations, am thrilled to see how it played out in full. Distressing finish for Natasha of course, but it opens up an interesting avenue of training, should she ever work  up the will for a rematch.

~rf

[Trebbi]

A triumphant smile formed on Sondra’s lips as she pushed down with her breasts into Natasha’s, her firm pair mashing the redhead’s beaten set flat beneath them as she made a demand: “Whose are better?  Say it!”

“Yours,” Natasha wept, “Yours are better.”

Sondra purred and leaned forward, dragging her breasts up until they were dangling above Natasha’s head.  “Now little spider, you know what comes next.  Don’t keep me waiting.”

Natasha whimpered as she brought her lips up to Sondra’s bosom and began to suckle on the blonde’s nipple.  This was but the beginning of the worship she would have to provide to the other girl’s superior pair – there was no option other than to comply.

It's amazing to see a superwoman like Black widow dominated and humiliated by a "normal" woman, great work!
I'd like to read another similar defeat for her

[Anubisx]

Jackflash Jump and rest of writers: congratulations for creating together the best thread in the forum.

[AaronL]

I think I have Naomi Scott specific amnesia. Every single time I see a picture of her all I can think is, "who is this goddess?" Yet I completely forget her name until the next time I see a picture of her and have the same reaction.

[the_walkin_dude]

I think I have Naomi Scott specific amnesia. Every single time I see a picture of her all I can think is, "who is this goddess?" Yet I completely forget her name until the next time I see a picture of her and have the same reaction.

Naomi's definitely one of the newer names on my fightin' muse list. She's got a great look / vibe to her and there's a lot of names that she matches up well against. Chloe's near the top of that list at the moment and I have the feeling they're not done with one another quite yet. Glad you enjoyed!

~rf

[Jackflash Jump]

Jackflash Jump and rest of writers: congratulations for creating together the best thread in the forum.

This thread has so vastly exceeded whatever expectations I may have had when I started it, and I can't thank everyone who contributes or just enjoys the posts enough.   

[Jackflash Jump]

The Walkin Dude is on a roll, and we are all the better for it!

Amanda Righetti vs Kira Kosarin
by The Walkin Dude



“What are you trying to prove?” the champ asked her challenger once the latter had regained her footing following a desperate climb up the ropes. “That you belong in here with the likes of Theron? Gadot? Upton?”

Breathing hard, the challenger mopped a forearm across her fever-hot brow, then flipped the hair outta her eyes and turned to face the champion. “I already know I can stand with them, ‘Manda.” she rasped. “Tonight I’m here for you… and that big gaudy belt you wear.”

Righetti snorted, a derisive noise she made no effort to hide. “You can barely stand, girl.” the redhead scoffed. “Hell, you can’t even get your butt off the middle ro--”

CRACK!

Kira Kosarin lurched off the strands and lashed her adversary across the chest with a Knife-Edge Chop. That same Chop had put Kat McPhee flat on her ass in a match that was less than ten minutes old, but Amanda barely ceded half a step in a match that was nearing the end of a thirty minute time limit.

Upper lip curled in angry irritation, Righetti pointed her right shoulder at Kira and answered with a Knife-Edge that sent the younger brunette backpedaling toward the ropes. “This tenacious tyro act got old about fifteen minutes ago.”

Amanda admitted as she made a minor adjustment to the strap of her off the shoulder gray one-piece. “Next time I put you down, you damned well better stay doNNNNGGGGGHH!”

Kosarin stormed into the breach with a Big Boot that caromed off the redhead’s jaw, then followed it up with half a dozen more Chops, each of them deepening the collection of ugly red welts tattooed just north of Amanda’s décolletage!

“C’MON!” the brunette bellowed to the crowd when Righetti actually ceded the center of the ring to her challenger. Not about to rest when she had Big Rigs in retreat, Kira tromped after champ and snatched a huge handful of that hateful copper braid. “Where do you think you’re going, bee--”

CRAAAAAACK!

Amanda caught Kosarin across the face with an Overhand Slap that made her knees go weak and her jaw go numb. Catching her own grip on the brunette’s battle damp tresses, Righetti followed up with a much lighter slap, then jabbed an index finger beneath Kira’s nose. “Watch your mouth, brat. Flavor of the month isn’t a label that carries much weight with me, no matter how many assholes are singing your pra--”

There was a THAWHUNK! followed by an ooooooohhh! from the fans when Kosarin sacrificed a hank of hair to smash a Headbutt into the champion’s sternum from pointblank range. Amanda’s legs shuddered but didn’t give way, so Kira stuffed a Toe Kick into her belly and almost screamed with pleasure when she caught the redhead in a Front Facelock. Slinging Righetti’s near arm across her shoulders in the next instant, Kosarin helped herself to a snug grip on the champ’s togs (just above her right hip) and gathered her reserves to--

Amanda threaded her right leg around Kira’s to block whatever show of force the challenger had in mind. “I don’t think so, bitch.” Kira bore down on the Facelock with enough force to make cauliflower of the redhead’s ears. “You’ve had your way for the last time tonOOOWWWRRRGGHH!”

Big Rigs stamped a heel down on her challenger’s toes, but rather than prize her way loose of the Front Facelock she simply straightened up while simultaneously bearing down on the arm Kosarin had draped over her shoulders. The result was a reversal of their previous arrangement, Amanda in firm control of the younger woman’s head while Kira squirmed and fought in search of escape. She might’ve found it given enough time, alas Righetti was not known for her generosity and it was only a matter of heartbeats before she clamped down on those white and gold trunks and muscled Kosarin skyward for a Vertical Supl-- Amanda reversed course when her burden reached one o’clock, the domineering champion tossing Kira into a short, vicious freefall that culminated with the challenger crashing down flat on her face, chest and belly!


Such an impact should’ve left Kosarin stretched out full length, yet ‘Manda knew adrenaline could do all sorts of things for the truly foolhardy and so she did an about-face and ran the ropes without waiting to see if Kosarin still had the strength to roll over, let alone rise. This predator’s instinct proved correct when Kira bounced to one knee, then clambered to boot-leather mere heartbeats after the initial impact.

The sound of Amanda’s Lariat meeting Kira’s clavicle was heavy and somehow damp, like a baseball bat striking wet clay. It was loud too, loud enough to ring in the collective ears of the audience long after it’d turned Kosarin inside out on her way back to the canvas-sheathed plywood.

Somewhere miles overhead, Righetti wiped perspiration from each arm and made a point of ‘flicking’ it down onto the flattened challenger. Such blatant disrespect converted most of those incredulous cheers back to sneering boos, which in turn earned a knowing smile from Big Rigs before she pulled Kira upright with a double handful of hair.

“Thuuuuhhhh… that all ya goHUUFFFFHHH!”

Righetti cut the question off with a Toe Kick that allowed her to stuff Kosarin’s head between her thighs with a minimum of effort. A breathy tickle against her inner thighs told the champ that Kira might still be trying to talk, so she squeezed the Scissors harder than she necessary as she hunched forward to cinch both arms around Kosarin’s waist. Digging knotted fists into the brunette’s tummy, ‘Manda muscled the challenger up onto her shoulders and began to spin in place. One, two, three full rotations, the capacity crowd at the Yellow Sign Tavern almost nauseous with anticipation by the time the redhead slung her prey down and dropped to a seat, Righetti just PLANTING Kosarin in the middle of the ring courtesy a hateful Spiral Bomb.

The impact folded Kira in half, all the redhead had to do was apply some gentle pressure to those upturned haunches and the three count would be hers. So of course she put both hands to Kosarin’s glutes and shoved her into an insensate somersault that put the brunette’s hair within easy reach. Reeling Kosarin into the second Standing Headscissors was a bit more cumbersome, but Amanda had plenty of experience hoisting deadweight and so it wasn’t long before she had the younger woman astride her shoulders for another Powerbomb.

No Spiral this time around, instead Righetti hooked her thumbs into the leg-holes of Kosarin’s trunks, thus allowing her to grab a handful of lycra at each hip. These hooks ensured even greater elevation when she muscled Kira off her perch, they also made most of the challenger’s briefs vanish in a savage wedgie. Eyes wide with shock and dismay, Kosarin managed to windmill her arms once before Righetti buried her at the bottom of a crater with another ring-shaking Powerbomb.

Kira was nothing more than a starfish by now, a perfect portrait of defeat that Amanda still felt the urge to tinker with, as evidenced by the dismissive way she nudged the brunette’s splayed legs together. Once that was done she circled around to Kosarin’s left, dropped to her knees and stretched out across Kira’s chest. Righetti didn’t bother to hook a leg, she didn’t even put a hand to the younger woman’s belly. Her only concession to the idea that Kosarin might kick out was the manacle grip she clamped around her right wrist. With her other hand pressed to the mat and her tummy heavy on the brunette’s chest, Amanda looked straight into the hard camera and offered it a wink when the official counted a desultory…

ONE!
TWO!
THREE!

Smirking as the boos rained down, the victorious redhead settled back onto her haunches with Kira’s limp wrist still in one hand. She should’ve just tossed it away but the champ held onto it until the referee walked over to return the ten pounds of leather & gold that was her championship. Instead of taking it herself, Righetti made Kosarin ‘reach’ for the title just to swat that hand like she was an unruly toddler seeking cookies beyond her grasp.

“No, no, no, that’s not for losers.” Amanda purred after she tossed the defeated brunette’s mitt aside and the gold was snugged around her waist once more. “It’s not for any of you.”

[Anon]

Historical notes: Marilyn Monroe fought in the first and second annual Battles of the Blonde Bombshells, giving a performance that was disappointing to say the least both years. Nevertheless, she showed up at the third annual competition enthusiastic and confident. At the last minute, however, Marilyn mysteriously vanished. Some witnesses report seeing a woman in a hat and sunglasses exiting the arena from the rear, while others speculate that one of Marilyn's competitors decided to go after her backstage.

The other competitors disapproved of Marilyn's sudden withdrawal.

The day after the third annual Battle of the Blonde Bombshells
Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Marilyn paced back and forth in her upstairs bedroom, holding the lower half of her pretty face in one hand and sucking in air through her clenched teeth. The sound from her front door was loud and jarring, but hidden behind it, issuing from Marilyn's back yard, several women's voices shouted over each other angrily. Marilyn spun around and turned her head up, eyes wide, straining to make sense of it. She looked past her open bedroom door to the stairs, then turned to her second story bedroom window.


Marilyn

Meanwhile...

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Cleo Moore's red lips twisted up as she struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids quivered as her face muscles clenched, deforming her face even further. With her cheek pressed to Jayne Mansfield's hip, and Jayne's arm firmly wrapped around her neck, the helpless actress bent at the waist and weakly shoved at Jayne's thighs. As Jayne scowled and swung her knee up  into Cleo's stomach, the trapped blonde winced and bowed her back, straightening her legs as the blow lifted her off the ground. As she fell back down to her starting pose, her wide ass bumped against Marilyn's doorbell again. Ding dong!


Cleo


Jayne

Meanwhile...

Diana Dors arm stiffened as her knuckles crushed Kathleen Hughes cheek. Her follow through was flawless; her arm remained straight, and her legs and hips rotated her upper body, putting enough force behind the haymaker to send Kathleen back over Marilyn's back porch railing. Diana winced and unclenched her fist, shaking her sore hand as Kathleen's spread legs swung up, and her body dropped down flat on her back, feet resting between the vertical railing bars. Stepping forward to look over the railing, Diana frowned and swatted some dust away from her arm."You couldn't have handled Marilyn anyway, you cream pfffffffff!"

Anita Ekberg struck without warning, her tall, wide, powerful body striking Diana's stomach at high speed. Diana's eyes widened as Anita hugged her around the waist and continued her charge, sending her into the air for a moment before the two crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. "She's mine! I got here first!" growled Diana between gasps. Trapped, but squirming frantically, Diana's hugged Anita's neck and yanked her hair violently while the bigger woman pinned her down.


Diana


Kathleen


Anita

Meanwhile...

Jeanne Carmen's head wavered back and forth, and her eyes crossed. Her foot swung up, as if trying to advance, and then drifted back down, crossing her ankles. With her back to the second story balcony railing, she swayed precariously, doing her best to untangle her elegant legs without sending herself over the edge. Her arms hovered at chest height, wiggling as she tried to remain upright.

Mamie Van Doren, standing just out of reach, sighed impatiently. With a quick step forward, her arm shot out straight, and her knuckles scored a direct hit on Jeanne's nose. The dazed actress squeaked and stiffened, standing up on her toes. Teetering backward, her butt plopped down on the railing, and her eyes widened... for an instant, before Mamie grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the balcony. Jeanne gasped as Mamie pivoted on the spot, gripping her arm firmly at the elbow and wrist. With a grunt, Mamie swung Jeanne in a wide circle, forcing the actress to stumble and build up speed in an arc. For a moment, Jeanne relaxed... until she neared the opposite end of the semi-circle and found herself running straight at the waist high balcony!

On the porch, Diana writhed, her body interlocked with Anita's still. She had the bigger blonde on her back, but Anita was far from cooperative. With her palm on Diana's chin, Anita pushed upwards, trying to twist her tormentor's neck and throw her off balance. "Eeeeeeeeee!" The loud scream began above the pair, but rapidly descended. Anita and Diana paused and turned their heads to the side, just in time to see Jeanne plunge past them, arms and legs flailing in the air desperately. With a splash, Jeanne struck the surface of Marilyn's pool, immediately vanishing in a shower of water. After a moment, her head burst through the surface with a smaller splash. Completely soaked, Jeanne's hair had flattened and molded itself to her head, the messy, suddenly straight blonde strands covering her eyes. She bobbed up and down, spitting water, before taking a deep, desperate breath.

At ground level, below the adjacent balcony, Grace Lee Whitney scowled, gripped the white, vine covered trellis, and pulled herself up, wedging her foot between the slats. When the trellis held her weight, she tilted her neck up to gaze at the balcony, and began to climb.


Jeanne


Mamie


Grace

Meanwhile...

Greta Thyssen stood astride a short ornamental shrub, leaning back and forth as she gazed through the open window. Angry women's voices shouted over each other from the inside, but muffled beyond recognition by distance and internal walls. After hesitating for a few moments, Greta put on an angry pout, leaned forward, and stuck her head through the window. Squirming back and forth, she squeezed one arm inside, freeing her shoulder, and using the extra space to wedge her other arm through.

Just as she tilted her head up, Barbara Nichols' hand gripped her hair near her neck, forcing her gaze up even further. Greta's eyes widened as she gazed on the tall, curvy actress towering over her, and she immediately began to shimmy back and forth, trying to back out of the window quickly. It was a hopeless maneuver, even without the added difficulty of Barbara dragging her in the opposite direction. Barbara gazed down on Greta with a victorious smirk, watching her struggle. "Wait, uh, I'll help you find h..." Greta began, voice quavering, but Barbara's mind was made up. The busty actress interrupted Greta with a punch to the jaw. With no room to move, Greta simply scrunched her eyes shut and absorbed the blow, her mouth dropping open and her legs going limp behind her as Barbara leaned into the strike. Taking Greta by the arms and heaving, Barbara braced herself against the wall with one foot, frowned, and began to slowly tug her still squirming victim through the narrow gap.

"Help!" Barbara kept her hands on Greta's wiggling arms, but the terrified voice was enough to grab her attention. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder suspiciously. On the opposite side of the house, far out of reach, Sabrina reached out to her with one arm. Stretching with all of her might, the terrified blonde waved her hand through the other open window to get Barbara's attention. "Help me-eeeek!" Sabrina's face suddenly dropped out of view as June Wilkinson's silhouette rose up behind her, dragging the curvy actress away from the window frame. Barbara's eyes flicked upward as June hefted Sabrina's body, and the helpless actress squealed again, kicking her legs in the air. Shrugging, Barbara turned away as June raised one foot high, preparing to stomp Sabrina into the ground.


Greta


Barbara


June


Sabrina

Meanwhile...

Sheree North marched through Marilyn's entryway, towards the long, central staircase to the second floor. Taking long, forceful strides, the short haired blonde beauty frowned and clenched her fists, arms swinging. Turning a corner, a scuffle of feet on the stone floor was Sheree's only warning of the coming attack. Beverly Michaels stumbled as she lowered her head and charged, but she struck Sheree's body with enough force to stop the confident blonde in her tracks. Growling, Sheree planted her feet far apart, grasped Beverly by the shoulder, and fortified her position, while Beverly, hissing through clenched teeth, threatened to lift her off her feet. The position gave Sheree a perfect view of the staircase, and more importantly Joi Lansing, who had ignored the two struggling women and delicately jogged up the first few steps. Sheree straightened up and relaxed her grip. Beverly, sensing something was wrong, looked up at Sheree nervously.

"You idiot! You're gonna let her get to Marilyn first!" snarled Sheree, extending her left arm and pointing a finger at the fleeing woman, over Beverly's back. Straightening her back, Beverly kept her hands on Sheree's waist, but turned her torso towards the stairs to sneak a glance. With a snarl and a forceful shove to the shoulders, Sheree separated herself from Beverly. As Beverly turned to react, Sheree swung a rising right hook at her chin. Crack! Beverly's head jerked to the side from the impact, and her eyes rolled up in her head slowly. She took an unsteady step away from her foe, then sank down, her butt landing on the lowest step, and her head and back coming to rest against the railing. Beverly's eyes shut and her legs spread as she slumped down. Sheree, of course, had missed all of this, as she broke into a run up the stairs after Joi.

"Hrrgh!" "Get out of the way, she's in here!" The sounds of stomping feet and groaning echoed from the top floor, approaching the top of the stairs. As the clamoring grew closer, soon the curvaceous shape of Grace Lee Whitney backs into view. She squirmed in Dagmar's grip, digging her nails into the other actress' arms as her heel skidded against the carpet, dangerously close to the top step. As Joi ascended with Sheree following at a safe distance, Grace ducked and elbowed Dagmar in the ribs. "Hffff!" Dagmar emptied her lungs, puffing out her cheeks as she flailed an arm over Grace's head in a failed counter. With a roar, Grace took Dagmar by the wrist and shoulder, pivoting on one foot and hurling Dagmar down the stairs behind her.

With plenty of space, Dagmar shrieked as she performed a graceful but involuntary flip, kicking her legs in empty space as she suddenly found herself upside down in midair. Joi had approached at the perfect time to catch Dagmar's airborne butt with her upper body. "Oof!" Clutching desperately at anything to keep her balance, Joi flailed her arms, only managing to grab the descending Dagmar around her midsection. She toppled backward, keeping her head up, but striking each stair with a distinct thud as she slid downward.

Sheree gasped and dived forward, launching herself over the two falling blondes to land in a crouch near the top of the staircase. With her palms on the top step, she tilted her head up, snarled, and scrambled forward towards Grace. Halfway down, on the landing, Dagmar lay atop Joi, thick legs wrapped around the trapped blonde's head. Joi let out a muffled growl, kicking her legs and scratching her tormentor's sides, as Grace and Sheree vanished onto the second floor, and other attackers approached the staircase from below.


Sheree


Beverly


Joi


Dagmar

Meanwhile...

"Hrg. Hrg." Marilyn's lips pressed together in a strained frown. She held the palm tree firmly with all four limbs, pressing her torso and cheek to the bumpy, coarse surface. Loosening her grip, Marilyn slid down an inch, only to wince and clench her muscles tightly, halting her descent as the jagged tree trunk scratched her. "Hrg!"

"She's gotta be in here somewhere!" "You let her out!" "Keep looking!" "Don't you tell me what to do!" The voices issued from Marilyn's open window. Halfway down the palm tree, Marilyn shut her eyes and shuddered. "Hrg."

As she approached the ground level, Marilyn's slender arms trembled with each tiny drop. Her back bent away from the tree trunk awkwardly, and her eyes popped open. "Hrgnonononoeeeeeeeeh!" she babbled, as one of her exhausted arms gave out. Her remaining three limbs, suddenly burdened with extra weight, quivered and slowly loosened. With a terrified cry, Marilyn tipped back, her fingers slipping away from the tree trunk. The movement forced her legs apart and sent her falling freely down the remaining few feet.

"Oof." Marilyn lay on her back, blinking and staring up at the clear blue sky. Her fingers twitched, and her ribcage expanded as she took a slow breath. Swinging her legs and pushing herself up with her elbows, Marilyn scrambled across the grass, rising and breaking into run as she fled directly away from the house.

As Marilyn passed a tall, square hedge, a new attacker sprung forth from behind it. Holding her arm out straight, she inserted herself in Marilyn's path before the fleeing starlet could react. Marilyn's sprint came to an abrupt end as she ran face first into her latest attacker's slim but unyielding bicep, falling over backwards and skidding across the grass under the other woman's outstretched arm. Once again, Marilyn lay on her back in the grass, shaking her head and slowly opening her eyes. Her jaw fell open as she looked up at Judy Holliday's smiling face.

"Well someone had to catch you!" Judy quipped. Marilyn screamed and held up her hands defensively as Judy pounced, but her attacker pressed her palm over Marilyn's mouth immediately. Marilyn kicked and screamed with all of her might, but the uproar from the house easily overwhelmed her muffled cries.


Judy

[BloodySam]

The Walkin Dude is on a roll, and we are all the better for it!

Amanda Righetti vs Kira Kosarin
by The Walkin Dude



“What are you trying to prove?” the champ asked her challenger once the latter had regained her footing following a desperate climb up the ropes. “That you belong in here with the likes of Theron? Gadot? Upton?”

Breathing hard, the challenger mopped a forearm across her fever-hot brow, then flipped the hair outta her eyes and turned to face the champion. “I already know I can stand with them, ‘Manda.” she rasped. “Tonight I’m here for you… and that big gaudy belt you wear.”

Righetti snorted, a derisive noise she made no effort to hide. “You can barely stand, girl.” the redhead scoffed. “Hell, you can’t even get your butt off the middle ro--”

CRACK!

Kira Kosarin lurched off the strands and lashed her adversary across the chest with a Knife-Edge Chop. That same Chop had put Kat McPhee flat on her ass in a match that was less than ten minutes old, but Amanda barely ceded half a step in a match that was nearing the end of a thirty minute time limit.

Upper lip curled in angry irritation, Righetti pointed her right shoulder at Kira and answered with a Knife-Edge that sent the younger brunette backpedaling toward the ropes. “This tenacious tyro act got old about fifteen minutes ago.”

Amanda admitted as she made a minor adjustment to the strap of her off the shoulder gray one-piece. “Next time I put you down, you damned well better stay doNNNNGGGGGHH!”

Kosarin stormed into the breach with a Big Boot that caromed off the redhead’s jaw, then followed it up with half a dozen more Chops, each of them deepening the collection of ugly red welts tattooed just north of Amanda’s décolletage!

“C’MON!” the brunette bellowed to the crowd when Righetti actually ceded the center of the ring to her challenger. Not about to rest when she had Big Rigs in retreat, Kira tromped after champ and snatched a huge handful of that hateful copper braid. “Where do you think you’re going, bee--”

CRAAAAAACK!

Amanda caught Kosarin across the face with an Overhand Slap that made her knees go weak and her jaw go numb. Catching her own grip on the brunette’s battle damp tresses, Righetti followed up with a much lighter slap, then jabbed an index finger beneath Kira’s nose. “Watch your mouth, brat. Flavor of the month isn’t a label that carries much weight with me, no matter how many assholes are singing your pra--”

There was a THAWHUNK! followed by an ooooooohhh! from the fans when Kosarin sacrificed a hank of hair to smash a Headbutt into the champion’s sternum from pointblank range. Amanda’s legs shuddered but didn’t give way, so Kira stuffed a Toe Kick into her belly and almost screamed with pleasure when she caught the redhead in a Front Facelock. Slinging Righetti’s near arm across her shoulders in the next instant, Kosarin helped herself to a snug grip on the champ’s togs (just above her right hip) and gathered her reserves to--

Amanda threaded her right leg around Kira’s to block whatever show of force the challenger had in mind. “I don’t think so, bitch.” Kira bore down on the Facelock with enough force to make cauliflower of the redhead’s ears. “You’ve had your way for the last time tonOOOWWWRRRGGHH!”

Big Rigs stamped a heel down on her challenger’s toes, but rather than prize her way loose of the Front Facelock she simply straightened up while simultaneously bearing down on the arm Kosarin had draped over her shoulders. The result was a reversal of their previous arrangement, Amanda in firm control of the younger woman’s head while Kira squirmed and fought in search of escape. She might’ve found it given enough time, alas Righetti was not known for her generosity and it was only a matter of heartbeats before she clamped down on those white and gold trunks and muscled Kosarin skyward for a Vertical Supl-- Amanda reversed course when her burden reached one o’clock, the domineering champion tossing Kira into a short, vicious freefall that culminated with the challenger crashing down flat on her face, chest and belly!


Such an impact should’ve left Kosarin stretched out full length, yet ‘Manda knew adrenaline could do all sorts of things for the truly foolhardy and so she did an about-face and ran the ropes without waiting to see if Kosarin still had the strength to roll over, let alone rise. This predator’s instinct proved correct when Kira bounced to one knee, then clambered to boot-leather mere heartbeats after the initial impact.

The sound of Amanda’s Lariat meeting Kira’s clavicle was heavy and somehow damp, like a baseball bat striking wet clay. It was loud too, loud enough to ring in the collective ears of the audience long after it’d turned Kosarin inside out on her way back to the canvas-sheathed plywood.

Somewhere miles overhead, Righetti wiped perspiration from each arm and made a point of ‘flicking’ it down onto the flattened challenger. Such blatant disrespect converted most of those incredulous cheers back to sneering boos, which in turn earned a knowing smile from Big Rigs before she pulled Kira upright with a double handful of hair.

“Thuuuuhhhh… that all ya goHUUFFFFHHH!”

Righetti cut the question off with a Toe Kick that allowed her to stuff Kosarin’s head between her thighs with a minimum of effort. A breathy tickle against her inner thighs told the champ that Kira might still be trying to talk, so she squeezed the Scissors harder than she necessary as she hunched forward to cinch both arms around Kosarin’s waist. Digging knotted fists into the brunette’s tummy, ‘Manda muscled the challenger up onto her shoulders and began to spin in place. One, two, three full rotations, the capacity crowd at the Yellow Sign Tavern almost nauseous with anticipation by the time the redhead slung her prey down and dropped to a seat, Righetti just PLANTING Kosarin in the middle of the ring courtesy a hateful Spiral Bomb.

The impact folded Kira in half, all the redhead had to do was apply some gentle pressure to those upturned haunches and the three count would be hers. So of course she put both hands to Kosarin’s glutes and shoved her into an insensate somersault that put the brunette’s hair within easy reach. Reeling Kosarin into the second Standing Headscissors was a bit more cumbersome, but Amanda had plenty of experience hoisting deadweight and so it wasn’t long before she had the younger woman astride her shoulders for another Powerbomb.

No Spiral this time around, instead Righetti hooked her thumbs into the leg-holes of Kosarin’s trunks, thus allowing her to grab a handful of lycra at each hip. These hooks ensured even greater elevation when she muscled Kira off her perch, they also made most of the challenger’s briefs vanish in a savage wedgie. Eyes wide with shock and dismay, Kosarin managed to windmill her arms once before Righetti buried her at the bottom of a crater with another ring-shaking Powerbomb.

Kira was nothing more than a starfish by now, a perfect portrait of defeat that Amanda still felt the urge to tinker with, as evidenced by the dismissive way she nudged the brunette’s splayed legs together. Once that was done she circled around to Kosarin’s left, dropped to her knees and stretched out across Kira’s chest. Righetti didn’t bother to hook a leg, she didn’t even put a hand to the younger woman’s belly. Her only concession to the idea that Kosarin might kick out was the manacle grip she clamped around her right wrist. With her other hand pressed to the mat and her tummy heavy on the brunette’s chest, Amanda looked straight into the hard camera and offered it a wink when the official counted a desultory…

ONE!
TWO!
THREE!

Smirking as the boos rained down, the victorious redhead settled back onto her haunches with Kira’s limp wrist still in one hand. She should’ve just tossed it away but the champ held onto it until the referee walked over to return the ten pounds of leather & gold that was her championship. Instead of taking it herself, Righetti made Kosarin ‘reach’ for the title just to swat that hand like she was an unruly toddler seeking cookies beyond her grasp.

“No, no, no, that’s not for losers.” Amanda purred after she tossed the defeated brunette’s mitt aside and the gold was snugged around her waist once more. “It’s not for any of you.”

Oh - sweet!

(I almost missed this behind all the back and white pictures, no offense!)

Amanda hasn't been used a lot in catfight stories recently, so I'm just stoked to read this. Totally loved the dominating display against one of my other favorites, Kira. You really have an almost unmatched talent for stories like this, Walkin' Dude, especially the little character moments and all the details put into it. My favorite line's probably this bit:

"Kira was nothing more than a starfish by now, a perfect portrait of defeat that Amanda still felt the urge to tinker with, as evidenced by the dismissive way she nudged the brunette’s splayed legs together."

Perfect!

Anyway - THANKS so much, Walkin' Dude, it was just a blast to read. Would love to see 'Manda featured again, but this was just perfect and made my day!

[the_walkin_dude]

Greetings,

First off, wanted to say great work to Anon for the piece above, the scope and scale of such a freewheeling brawl is impressive to say the least and how can you not love a story where one participant is tossed off a balcony to splash down in the pool below? Love it!

As for Kira & Amanda, you're more than welcome Sam, glad you liked it. Much as I like cattier battles, Righetti just screams pro-style to me and this was a good chance to let her showcase on the game, but ultimately outmatched Kosarin.

~rf

[Jackflash Jump]

Zendaya vs Emma Dumont



In the pre-match cocktail hour, the two combatants mingled with the elite guest.  The veteran catfighter Zendaya, as always, was cool, calm and focused.  But Emma, but making her catfighting debut, was all smiles and giggles, pure effervescence.  She charmed the spectators, but privately each concluded that she was in far over her head tonight, and facing sheer devastation.  They could only hope that Zendaya would be merciful.

Had they known that Emma had specifically challenged Zendaya to this match, they would have wondered if she had a death wish.

That was prior to the match.  Once the signal to begin was given, the smile instantly melted from Dumont's face, and her eyes darkened with rage as, with a roar, she charged at her rival.  Caught by surprise from her opponent's attack, Zendaya was immediately put on the defensive...and that's where she stayed for the long minutes that followed.  Emma was a savage wildcat, never relenting as she unleashed slaps, punches, kicks, stomps, scratching and biting on her victim, Zendaya's defenses withering under the brutal assault.

As her adversary dropped to one knee in a daze and panted heavily for breath, Emma stalked over to one of the spectators and angrily snarled, "Stand up!" With fear in his eyes, he immediately jumped up to his feet; Dumont unhooked his belt and yanked it off of him, then spun around and returned to Zendaya.  With a wicked gleam in her eyes, Emma then began to whip her bronzed opponent's back with the leather belt, drawing shrieks and howls from the hapless beauty.

She then wrapped the belt tight around Zendaya's throat, strangling her.  The embattled girl's fingers clutched frantically at the makeshift garrotte, but to no avail.  Her eyes began to glaze over as she struggled for breath.  the spectators wondered if they would have to intervene to prevent the first ever catfight club homicide.

Then suddenly, Dumont loosened the belt, allowing her rival to draw precious oxygen.  She shoved Zendaya roughly to the floor face first, then drew her wrists and ankles behind her, using the purloined belt to hogtie her.  Grabbing her beaten rival's hair, she yanked her face upward so that the spectators could see the tears streaking down her cheeks.  "Who owns you ass, bitch?" Emma growled.

"Y-you do...!" Zendaya sobbed.

Dumont stood up, her nostrils flaring as she still seethed with rage.  And then, in an instant, the fury disappeared, and a bright smile returned to her angelic face.  "Gee, that was fun!" she said in a sing-song voice.