pt 1The following is the second half of a non-canon Breast Battles story featuring a rivalry between myself and one of my favorite writers on the site. I appreciate her permission to post this scene, and I encourage anyone with serious writing chops to look her up. Sorry for the wait for Breast Battles ch 4, I hope this piece reawakens an interest in the characters.
Sophie's page~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THUDDDD The merciless slam even makes Phoebe wince as your face turns red and you blink in a brief daze. Sophie K presses her torso down to make you suffer her weight, then turns onto her right side so she’s staring right at you while keeping you pinned. Slapping your right cheek rudely, she slides up your body a bit as she threatens you, now crushing your ribcage with her heavy body. “Oy!” SLAP “Don’t go limp on me bitch!” SLAP “Do you
know you’re about to be tit smothered?!” Like Phoebe before her, it’s clear that Sophie K feels she’s reached a point of invincibility. But unlike with Phoebe, I don’t see any way for you to reverse your fortunes. To punctuate her threat, Sophie K puts her left hand on the center of her bra and pulls down, springing her mammoth mammaries from her tight cups.
Phoebe and I gape in jealous amazement at the sheer heft of her bare balcony as she reaches back and undoes the bra properly. Though not as large as yours, her assets have an obvious density to them that makes them frightening to look at, and the fact that they’re about to be weaponized while yours are still holstered makes them seem even fuller. “Time for your jugging, little girl!”
Whether it’s her slaps, her taunts, or most likely her uncovered cannons, something breaks through your slam-stupor and gets you going. Just as she’s lifting her right leg to swing over into a full straddle position, you frantically hook your own legs around it so she’s stuck in half mount. After one failed attempt to yank herself free, Sophie K snarls at you derisively. “You think I can’t knock you out from here?!”
With that, she throws herself forward and drops her bombs on you, covering you from your chin to your nostrils in European hooters. The only thing preventing her from completely burying you is the combination of her height and her inability to slide further up your body thanks to your leg lock. Undeterred, she simply pushes against her underboob so that her cleavage grows like a mushroom cloud, consuming your wide eyes and truly swallowing your whole face as she breast smothers you in front of the cameras.
“MMMPHHHH MMMM-MMMMMPHHH!!” you roar irately into her unmovable melons; in response, she keeps squeezing the underside to humiliate you with the boobyswells, now putting it to rhythm as she sings to you. “Toooo much titttty, that’s what I got! Thought you were strong, but now you’re not! Tits too firm and full for you, passing out is what you’ll do!” I’m leaning on the apron to support my weight as I feel lightheaded with pleasure; my rival is getting dominated by the Breast Battles girls! Tactically, I almost feel bad for you as I can see the decision you’re struggling with even without seeing your face. If you keep your legs where they are, Sophie K can’t fully mount you, but you also can’t use them to help you escape. If you plant your feet and your bridge attempt fails, you’ll never get out from under that dense body. And every second you think about it, Sophie K’s sledgehammers pull more and more strength from your fading muscles.
Keeping herself entertained, Sophie K has moved her hands to her sideboobs and is now mashing each of her girls into your face in a circular motion, obliterating your makeup as she purposefully smears it into her boobage. Stirred by this new embarrassment, you settle on a plan and put your hands on her shoulders, committing to keeping her leg secure and trusting your upper body to get you free. Sophie K sneers contemptuously at this tactic even though you can’t see her face, but her expression quickly changes as she realizes she has a dilemma of her own; she can easily pin your wrists down and keep you trapped, and she can easily knock you out with her cleavage-boosting grip, but her hands can only be in one place at a time. Faced with the prospect of loosening her smother, Sophie K decides to go for the win, confident that her artillery can finish you before you can meaningfully move her powerful body. “These are
knockout boobies cxnt, you’re going nowhere!”
There’s an agitation to her voice that makes me uneasy; from what I can see I would have made the same choice as Sophie K as it appears you’re stuck far too tightly to make space in time to save yourself. Her sudden anxiety, along with the way she’s now shoving her juggs down with no fanfare whatsoever, suggests that you may be closer to freedom than you appear. Your biceps bulge as you struggle to move her, but you’re still buried past your eyebrows. “Wow, her tits are
bullying you!” I taunt, but now it’s my voice that’s betraying uncertainty.
It happens so fast, no one is ready for it. One instant Sophie K is pouring her puppies onto your trapped visage, the next your wide-eyed face pops free like a champagne cork. Deep red and gasping, you nevertheless have a look of triumph and a sense of pride despite how much of your lipstick and eyeliner cake Sophie K’s heaving honkers. Putting ego ahead of strategy, she wastes her precious first moments trying to shove her own breasts even harder to make up the distance, allowing you to keep pressure on her shoulders and prevent a remount. By the time she realizes she needs to sit up, you’ve just finished working your right arm across her body, and by sitting up yourself to the small degree that you can you’re able to get that arm around her neck. Despite having top position, Sophie K bellows like a bull as she’s caught in your headlock, suffering a straining of her neck and a compression of her lungs but worst of all a suddenly dire need to get her leg free.
Sure enough, you start to put your control points to use, leveraging her neck and frozen leg to start rolling the pair of you over. In many situations Sophie K’s last defense is simply how hard it is to move her, and it’s apparent that she was counting on that here. Your progress is gradual but unrelenting, and the thrashing display she puts on is in stark contrast to your own patient, technical grappling style. I bit my lip and slide down the apron toward the flashlight, resigned to the fact I’m going to need it.
thuddd Sophie K’s shoulders hit the mats and instantly you’re on top of her, cleanly transitioning into side control with the momentum of the roll. My face scrunches up as I anticipate a hard titty drop, but first you concern yourself with Sophie K’s arms, pinning one roughly between your legs and using your two arms to corral her other one. My heart drops as I recognize the position and its implications; in a crucifix pin, Sophie K has no way to tap out. I’m in a panic already as my mind races for a solution, but what happens next nearly makes me faint; looking to repay a previous indignity, you grab the bottom of the front of your sports bra and slowwwwly peel it up. It feels like my blood actually stops as you prolong the last few inches, then with a terrifying bounce your HH highbeams tumble free.
“
ohhhhhmyfuckinggoddd,” I whisper as I see your nude knockers for the first time in ages. I can see how much joy you’re getting out of my reaction, but I’m too stunned to mask it as my brain short-circuits looking for a solution. “Sophie I’m sorry!” I hear myself blurt out, realizing I’m not even sure which Sophie I’m talking to. I never asked for Sophie K’s help and I certainly didn’t want her assaulting Riley, but she doesn’t deserve the soul-crushing punishment she’s about to receive.
As if hearing my thoughts, you speak in that calm, unhurried tone you use whenever you’re certain you’re in control. “Don’t worry, Jessica. She’s not getting the worst of it. Your knockout is going to take a LOT longer,” I feel like a little girl who needs a couch to hide behind as I’m helpless to you or even get the last-resort fighter into the ring. Sophie K’s hands flop up and down uselessly as she tries to free either arm, but your pin keeps her completely at your mercy as you lean forward and let your full size maracas hang on either side of her nervous face. Ashamed of the display you’re putting on at her expense, Sophie K opens her mouth to trash talk just for dignity’s sake, but you choose that moment to begin your devastating titty barrage.
“Those aren-” SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP Shaking your shoulders like engine pistons, you brutally pummel her with your wrecking balls. The tittysmacks are so fast and frequent that I know Sophie K has only seconds of consciousness; I strongly suspect you anticipate me calling in another ringer and you’re in a hurry to end the match first. I’m trying to aim the flashlight for the door without you noticing when you stare right at me, and there’s pure scorn on your face as you call me out. “Really, Jessica? Will you do
anything to run from my big tits?!”
Already busted, I abandon the secrecy and flash the light right in front of you, stamping impatiently as I hear worryingly incoherent moaning from Sophie K punctuating the constant SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP. “Hurry, please! No need to sneak in!!” I yell frantically, realizing that adhering to the plan would get her here too late. My blood pressure skyrockets as the walkway remains empty. “HELLO?!” I can feel your satisfaction radiating behind me in anticipation of moving on from Sophie K to me.
At last, Taylor Wilkerson rounds the corner casually, her immense zeppelins overflowing a rose-gold bra I could never imagine filling out. As she walks toward the ring, she removes a blue lollipop from her bright red lips, twirling it in her left hand as she addresses me. “I don’t
do sneaking, yeah. I think that’s like, a little girls thing?” Her Valley girl accent is so naturally condescending it’s hard to tell when she means to be rude, though on reflection I realize it’s possible she’s just
always condescending. Her leisurely pace still leaves her halfway to the ring, and a quick check on Sophie K leaves me horrified as I see a line of drool on her cheek and tears in her eyes.
“Hang in there Sophie!” I scream, trying to cut through the fog you’ve put her brain in, but Taylor just rolls her eyes and pulls the lollipop back out. “That’s like, super embarrassing. She totally shouldn’t have let that happen to her,” I still don’t have a plan to get Taylor tagged in, and with Sophie K so nearly unconscious I feel my limbs going numb and my chest getting warm as a panic attack begins. Fortunately for me, Taylor takes charge as she nears the apron, calling to you in an expectant tone.
“Hey you’re like, not gonna knock her out right?” Unexpectedly you freeze, your monsters hovering over Sophie K mid-bash, and Taylor continues with infinite confidence. “I mean, you wanted Jessica right?” She pointedly gazes right at my F cups with a level of disdain no one has ever shown them. “Like, what’s the point? Don’t you test yourself against real women?” There’s internal conflict all over your face as you stay frozen, eventually choking out a strained reply.
“You.. don’t understand. I really, really need to teach Jes-”
“Ok like whatever, teach her another time!” interrupts Taylor tactlessly. “I’m flying to Paris in like two hours. You WANT this fight,” To my amazement, you give a grunt that sounds like it carries reluctant agreement. I feel a sharp jealous twinge that Taylor’s approval means so much to you, but mostly I’m flooded with relief that you’re voluntarily letting her in the match. I set up Taylor as the last resort for a reason; she’s so self-serving and hedonistic that she’s dangerously unpredictable, but as a titfighter she may be the most feared rising star in the country.
She reaches the ring and raises her eyebrows, but you don’t immediately facilitate a tag. Glaring down at Sophie K, you adjust the alignment of your airbags and plunge yourself forward, cramming her nose between your whoppers for a vengeance-smother. I can tell you want her to suffer, but poor Sophie K is already so tittybattered she’d fail a sobriety test. Seeing the same signs, you grudgingly rise from your overpowered victim and wave her to the ropes. Completely spent, Sophie K just rolls and flops pathetically until you run our of patience, dragging her to her feet by the hair as she yelps and using another Irish Whip to send her toward the waiting Taylor.
My breath catches in my throat as the tag comes in, daunted by the scope of the confrontation I’m about to witness. Ever intolerant of losers, Taylor gives Sophie K no help once she slaps her lifeless arm, letting her tumble right out of the ropes as she stumbles by out of control. I’m able to grab enough of her to keep her from crashing into the empty seats, but as soon as she’s able to stand she shoves me away spitefully, wiping her eyes as she turns away. “Don’t need you, see!” she sniffs. “Did better than you’d have done!”
I walk around to another side of the ring, curtailing my instinct to snap back at her as I know she’s in an emotional state. Taylor slips under the top rope without any effort to add sensuality; the watermelons that are bulging from her overmatched bra require no assistance. Standing to her full height, she flips her light blonde hair and her trademark blue highlight streak flashes brightly as she assesses your uncovered curves. “Honestly, that’s actually like pretty good. This is totally worth my time!” she announces happily, reaching back for her bra clasp.
To everyone except Taylor, the tension in the air is thicker than Sophie K’s thighs as we wait to see her drop her top. Though she’s rumored to be an H cup, her disproportionately thin frame makes judging her true size difficult – not that most girls are big enough to care. “Like, tada!” she says sarcastically as she realizes we’re all holding our breath, tossing away the champagne colored bra and revealing the greatest rack I’ve ever seen.
On sheer size, there’s nothing to split the two of you; twin sets of WMD’s stare each other down menacingly. But while yours show impressive fullness and height, hers look to be carved from actual mountains, impossibly firm and perky. Though she sports tiny areolas, her nipples are thick and stiff, and as she begins to step toward you I squint, feeling her bustline may actually a bit wider than yours. Her green eyes sparkle as she sees you fighting to appear unimpressed, her musical California tones filling the air as she mockingly encourages you.
“OMG like don’t even worry girl, I’m sure you’ll do fine!” She continues to slowly approach you, and only now do I snap out of it enough to realize she still has the lollipop in her hand. I blink my eyes in disbelief as I wonder if all three Breast Battles girls will lose to overconfidence today. “I mean unlike
some girls here, at least you’re big. But you know what’s crazy about my tits? They’re like, really really big…” She’s nearly at arm’s length now and still coming, her left hand bringing the blue sucker back to her lips between phrases. “… AND really really firm!” Stopping just short of contact, she deposits the lollipop in her mouth and waves you forward with both hands. “Like, try me!” she offers cockily through the right side of her mouth.
Like the rest of us, Taylor’s stripdown had you mesmerized, but with a boss battle on your hands your focus has quickly returned. I can see anger clouding your eyes as the audacity of her behavior; for as impressive as she is, it’s not like she’s three cups bigger than you, and you have both experience and body mass on your side. With her nipples hanging perhaps five inches from yours, you close the distance in a single step, committed to testing her with a robust boobyslam.
SPLLLAAAATTTT The noise is thunderous, but it’s completely incongruent with the effect it has on Taylor; despite moving neither her feet nor her arms, she’s able to completely negate the momentum of your strike with a simple thrust of her shoulders. Her megabreasts barely even swell as they absorb the impact, then send you rebounding back to your starting position. I feel dizzy just watching, and your psyche takes a visible hit as well. Grinding your teeth, you grab her shoulders this time and reload, starting from further back and THROWING yourself into her as you try to pull her nonchalant body into the tittystrike.
SPLLLAAAATTTT Taylor groans… but in disappointment. “Urghhhh are you actually trying? If you are, and you’re for reals this pillowtitted, I’m like kinda concerned for you” You shake your head as if in denial, and I completely understand the sentiment; when you had me pinned against the street light, it felt like you had bowling balls stuffed under your shirt. It’s extremely disquieting to see those same bra busters completely ignored by a girl thinner than Linda. “Jessica?” I jump as my name floats by on that unmistakable accent, uncomfortable with the accusatory tone. “The flight here was like, so boring. If she’s not worth my time-”
Her threat is cut mercifully short as you growl and reengage, this time coming with wide arms to wrap the thinner girl in a grinding hug. Taylor grins through her lollipop as she offers no resistance, even leaving her arms by her sides so you can pin them there with your hold. “Gonna make me feel it, Sophie?” she asks in a sarcastic falsetto. Having been given all the leverage you could ask for, I can see the mental pressure you’re under to make this work. Taking a deep breath and tensing your muscles, you squeeze with all the strength your pride can muster.
CRRAACCKK A chunk of Taylor’s lollipop breaks loudly as she tightens her jaw reflexively, finally showing a glimmer of vulnerability as she feels your full power. Grinning even wider, her wrists turn so that her elbows are pointed straight out from her ribs, then she extends them to force your grip to widen, making space for her arms to move. In an instant, she’s turned your overhooks from an advantage to a liability as she now gets her own arms around you, her inside position giving her access to more leverage. For the moment she doesn’t return the pressure, seemingly allowing you to give another squeeze from this more neutral position. But just as you start to strain, Taylor flips the switch and CRUSHES you with her sudden show of force.
“Yup, I
do feel that babe. Keep going!” she teases as your moans fill the arena. “You should totally be proud, there’s like no girls can make me say that anymore. Can you bring my pain up to a three?” It’s clear from your groans and your wild eyes that your own anguish is already around an eight out of ten, but you snarl like a feral cat in response and find the fortitude to squeeze again. I can see your arms lightly shaking with desperate effort as you maintain hope that something in Taylor will eventually crumble.
“Ok you’ve had like, a lot of tries. I’m gonna do my turn now!” The two of you are so busty that neither of you could actually clasp your hands in the initial hug positions, but Taylor strains her arms further around your body in an effort to do so, squashing your struggling sweater meat with each surge of her hands. “Urgh ok look. This is gonna hurt, but it’s your own fault for being so fat,” You squint your eyes but have no time to reply as Taylor
destroys you with a full strength tittycrush. In a quarter of a second, your massive mounds are condensed to
half their normal volume, allowing Taylor’s fingers to barely grip each other behind your back.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHHOOOOOOHHHHHFUUUUCCCCKKKKKKK!” you cry in torment as Taylor sucks her teeth critically. “Yeah, not actually tight enough. It’s gotta be like, really tight for this sorryyyy!” There’s nothing apologetic about her tone, and as you interpret her meaning your own hands fly apart, releasing your broken hug as you push down on her elbows frantically.
“NOOOOOOOOOOONOOOOMOREEEENOOOMOREEEE!” you scream in response as she crushes you again, and this time her palms meet firmly locking you into your undersized prison. Each breath is now agony as your body has no space to expand into, deflating your balloons a bit more with each passing second – and of course, when you exhale the vacated space goes to Taylor’s titanics, never to return. Even as dominant as Taylor has been, it’s a relief to hear you becoming submissive after all the near-misses this plan has had today. Taylor meanwhile doesn’t seem to care at all whether you’re ready to tap or not, subtly shifting the alignment of the orbs and the positioning of her feet to be lower and closer respectively, still applying devastating pressure with just the top half of her boobage.
“Ok, we’re like all set. Hey Sophie!” She gives you a sharp squeeze to make you whimper in response, then bends her knees and tenses her body. “Like, enjoy your flight!” Standing tall and proud, she lifts you right off the mats in a
humiliating tittycarry, keeping your cans compressed and your feet in the air without breaking a sweat.
“Bloody fuckn…” Sophie K trails off as she subconsciously backs away from the ring in terror. “Oh, it’s like not even hard,” replies Taylor casually. Proving her point, Taylor bounces lightly on her feet, sending you up and down embarrassingly as her supercleavage puts on a jiggle display. “Fun though!” she adds, increasing her bouncing intensity and dominating your body with her strength and her superior juggs.
“I SUBMITTTT!” Your plaintive plea is like ambrosia to me; eagerly I reach under the apron for the other item I placed there, the one I wanted just for this moment. Taylor snickers at you, then replies with a bouncing barrage and a single word. “So?” Your feet kick and hands flail as she ignores your submission, your face and hair now drenched with terror sweat. “Jessica!” she calls again, and for the second time today my nervous hands drop my tool. Taylor carries you toward my side of the ring like a piece of furniture, beckoning me up to the ropes with her head. “Lollipop,” she says commandingly, and with relief I pull it from her mouth and hold it for her.
“’Kay Sophie, ready for the hard part?” she asks. Your eyes go even wider as you feel you’re at peak suffering at the moment, and I leave my device under the ring for the moment as I don’t want to miss what’s coming next. “
don’t… please…” you stammer, but Taylor just beams a smile through her blue-stained lips and starts counting. “3…2…1…DOWN!”
The sound of the impact is one of the most distressing sounds I’ve ever heard. Taylor didn’t slam you so much as she leapt forward with you in her grasp, building maximum momentum before her deadly missiles land squarely on your beaten balloons. The deflation is instant and complete – you don’t even have the air to cry or beg, instead reduced to fighting with all your strength to fill your lungs to ten percent under the crushing pressure. Your broken gasps are distressing, desperate… and exactly why I brought an audio recorder! The slim device slips easily into my right palm as I pick it up and circle toward your side of the ring, still reluctantly holding Taylor’s lollipop in the other hand. Taylor doesn’t bother pressing down in the chest-to-chest pin; you’ve got virtually nothing left to crush. Pulling herself up your body, she hangs her still undented monsters over your trembling face.
“Anything to say, Sophie? Better do it now, I don’t think there’s much time left for talking!” Taylor smirks at the implication and gives each cheek the lightest tittybrush, ready to hear you grovel for her mercy one more time. I’m counting on you having a different instinct however, and I nearly soak my panties as you beg
me to stop this.
“
jess…sss…pl..lleeas…sss…I giv…..vupp… cannn’….thandl….” As she realizes who you’re submitting to, the smirk Taylor started with melts into an ugly scowl. With my dream script so nearly complete, I take a risk and lean toward you, extending both hands hoping to draw less attention to my secretive recording. “Say you have weak titties. Say it!” I order you, but unbeknownst to me Sophie K has crept up suspiciously. My right arm is yanked back and my hand is forced open by the powerful Brit, and that horrid voice rats me out immediately.
“Oy! You know she’s recordin’ this? Stealthy-like?!” I try to pull away but her hands grab my shoulders and I may as well be behind bars, completely unable to outmuscle even a weakened Sophie K. Taylor shoots me a whole death sentence in her glare, then makes eye contact with Sophie K to make sure I’m secured.
“Ummm OHH KAY,” she begins angrily, her nipples swelling a bit she’s so fired up. “I think you BOTH need to like realize who did all the work here!” I’d anticipated that Taylor might react this way to the recorder, hence the concealment attempt, but it felt worth the risk at the time… before I had seen her topless. Your choice to beg me to call her off was understandable really considering you’d already tried submitting to her in vain, but Taylor wasn’t likely to be reasoned with in either of our cases. Fortunately for me, she turns her displeasure to you first. “Can
Jessica save you now?!”
“
mmmphhhhmmmphhhmmphhh!” Your screams are like whispers by the time they reach the air, lost in the smothering embrace of Taylor’s killers. I feel like the victim of a monkey’s paw as I watch you suffer the exact fate I wished for you… only to know that it awaits me as well. There’s no joy in watching how utterly she consumes you, only fear as I picture myself under those huge hangers. I groan in frustration as I realize I won’t even be able to keep the audio recorder, although I still have it in hand as Sophie has to hold me with both of hers. Wait… in hand…
In the bitchiest move I’ve resorted to in years, I stick Taylor’s lollipop in Sophie K’s hair without warning and start twisting, making sure it’s as tangled as can be. Shrieking, she instinctively releases me with both hands and the second I feel them go I’m sprinting for my life. “YOU FUCKING cxnt! I’LL KILL YOU!!” roars Sophie K, but while she does have her strengths, top end speed is not among them. I’m easily pulling away from her when Taylor bellows at Phoebe. “Stop her! Or it’s YOUR smother!!”
My throat feels like I’m choking on a grapefruit as I realize she can reach the door first. As a Tittyball player expected to eventually go pro, I have as much chance of getting by her as I do at beating Serena at tennis. My eyes blink softly as they fill with fat tears, but as she so often does, Phoebe gives a look that can’t be read. As I’m approaching her and I see her crouch to intercept me, I want to scream at her that she’s supposed to be better than this, but I can’t truly fault her given the stakes.
Her signal is so subtle I very nearly miss it. The index finger of her right hand points me left, hugging her hip so Sophie K and Taylor can’t see it. My brain briefly considers that she might be pointing where
she’s going instead of where
I’m to go, but there’s no time for second guessing and I put on my most convincing juke, flinging myself to the left as she crashes through the spot I stood just a millisecond earlier.
“Fucking clutz! Get her!!” screams Taylor as she
still entombs you with her bombers, but Phoebe makes a mess of extricating herself from the chairs and I’m bursting through the doors into sweet, precious sunlight. Turning and waving at Taylor cheerily, I escape with my life and my prize, headed home for a bath with my new favorite soundtrack
