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Members Catfight Polls! / Re: The BGEW Presents - NHB Natalie Vs Lovely Leslie in a Cage at the Beach!
« Last post by Foul Mouthed Donna on Today at 11:11:21 AM »Wow! This is going to be great! Natalie looks fantastic and up for a fight but never discount Leslie - I know that from personal experience!
Great poll Tony, going to love watching this one unfold! GO GIRLS!
DD xx
Great poll Tony, going to love watching this one unfold! GO GIRLS!
DD xx
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Catfighting / Re: MSE 6 Cindy's Story (Bruised Oranges) Part 2
« Last post by MikeHales67 on Today at 10:15:02 AM »It was at the Milkround, the jobs fair. We were both looking at a job at LVM, they had some of the best fluid dynamics jobs going and they had a shit-hot bio-medical unit which researched repairing injured limbs. She said hello and told me about what she had done during the Internship. I liked the way she didn’t lord it over me, she seemed almost apologetic that she’d won. I’d won bigger, but I kept it quiet, I’m not a saint and a little bit of guilt does no one any harm.
She explained to me what the interviewers were looking for, it made sense to me. This is the MSE, so women are supposed to settle their differences with a physical confrontation. If you've got two or more candidates going for the same job inevitably, the unsuccessful candidate would challenge the successful one. Sometimes they would challenge each other before the interview. Eventually, employers just held mass scraps and the winner would get the job. That became the norm. Some scummy employers even started charging for tickets.
Yeah but…
You will end up hiring the badasses.
Yeah but…
LVM is a tech company, that wants smart people who will work well in a team, they don’t want badasses.
According to Cathy, many progressive businesses nowadays take advantage of the anticipated almost obligatory, mass scrap for a job, to assess their applicants; do they work well under pressure? Do they bully people? Do they cooperate? Cathy said that if she and I collaborated, it would prove that we are the kind of people who are willing to set aside our differences and work together towards a shared goal. The Interviewers would love that. The exact technical term she used was ‘fucking flood their fucking panties’.
Sassenach wasn't entirely sure though; she'd heard it all from her dad. It all made perfect sense, but it might just be that the final four fight winners would be the ones that got hired, but what she said made perfect sense, so I agreed.
I turned up at the interview, just before Cathy and selected my leotard, I ended up with Number 10.
Miss Business Suit welcomes us in and explains the rules. Basically, it’s catfight rules, no killing or maiming. The first fight will be against someone the same size and after that, we get to choose who to fight next or group up or whatever. The losers of each fight are eliminated until only four remain. I noticed that she didn't explicitly say that those four would get the job.
I count the others, there are twenty of us competing for four vacancies. We all line up facing each other. I notice that maybe half have the MMA cornrow that me and Cathy have, and the rest have a selection of ponytails, and buns or just have it hanging loose. I’m opposite 11, she looks like a sweet girl, a breagha, she went for the ponytail. She raises her fists; I notice they’re trembling. I feel sorry I'm gonna have to put her down.
“Good Luck”, she says faintly.
“Thanks, you too”, I say back, not meaning it, just to be polite. We bump fists. Oh, this is very civilised.
Breagha comes forward, and so do I, she snapped out a jab that only caught my arm. I quickly sidestepped to her right and snapped a jab that landed on her face. As she wiped a drop of blood from her face, Breagha gave me a look, that hurt, didn't it?
I snapped out another jab, Breagha ducked and fired a right, I rotated my shoulder blocking it with my right arm. I danced away, smiling.
Back again I landed another jab, Breagha yelped. She came back at me, and I moved away.
Then I came back attacking with another jab, she blocked me with her arm.
The next blow she ducked and threw a punch into my belly but before she could even get her arm back, I'd bloodied her nose.
The pace picked up, we were slamming punches into each other's bodies now, the occasional headshot, normally blocked. I dinged her good in the mush, she moved back shook her head and came back for more, which I gave her.
Starting to get angry now. Breagha punched me in the head, I saw stars, but she cried out, she’d hurt her fist. Oh dear, she's fecked now.
I swung an elbow into her face, opening up her nose as she squealed in pain.
Snarling like an animal, she swung with her other fist, I blocked it with my left and gut-punched her with my right. Her lungs exploded out, and she staggered back, moaning. Her face was red, and I could see tears starting to form in her eyes.
She flew out towards me, slapping furiously. I tried to block, but there were too many. I backed off trying to get some space, and the tart followed me. I kicked out, I got her in the chest, and she fell back. I touched my burning face; I found some scratches. The dirty tart! Yeah, the nails are cut short, but if you really try. Not so fecking civilised now, are we?
Her face was red, she started to cry. She was losing and she knew it.
Without warning, she kicked at my fud, but I blocked it. I grabbed her foot.
“You wanna fight like a dirty whore?”
I snarled as I pulled her in by her leg, straight into my fist going up into her fud. I felt the dull thud of impact as my fist drove into her bone. The agony shot through her body. Her mouth was just open croaking. Drool dribbled down her face. She sank to her knees; her hands went to her poor fud.
I grabbed her arms roughly pulling them behind her back and placed my feet on the back of her head, pushing her head down.
"Give up" I demanded.
No reply but she cried freely now. Deep bitter tears.
I pushed with my feet and pulled on her arms, harder.
“Give up” I whispered in her ear, “Don’t make me really fuck you up”.
Silence, as I pulled on her arms again, I was afraid I was going to have to pull her fecking arms off. When…
"I submit" She whined out between sobs. I took my feet off her head and dropped her arms.
A monitor appeared and led my limping, sobbing victim away.
I looked around the field of battle, I saw Big feartie, number 120, you couldn't miss her really, she looked like a big and vicious thug. She was currently in the process of battering some poor girl. The girl wanted to surrender but Big feartie wouldn’t let her, a monitor was rushing over.
I turned and saw the sassenach, she sees me. What she didn’t see was Eighty-Eight and Eighty-Two, Bawheid and arsewipe, sneaking up behind her. I take arsewipe, who was the creep who was nearest to Cathy.
I got arsewipe by the legs as we crashed to the mat. She crashed on her back, I swung a good slap to her face, and her head swung to the side. I tried for a backhand, but arsewipe tangled my arm in hers.
She started pulling me off her. I tried to resist and failed.
She locked an arm around my neck in a headlock and twisted me, one of her chebs was stuffed in my face. I resisted the temptation to bite. I pulled at her hair with my left while the open palm on my right hand clocked her under the chin.
She grunted and squeezed tighter.
I clocked the chin again; I was beginning to fade.
My fist went for her nose. The blood dripped onto my face, she screamed and released me as her hands went for her nose.
I moved away as her vengeful parting slap rocked my face. I kicked her in the belly as my parting gift.
Backing off we both stared at each other.
Yelling out, I charged her.
But arsewipe was ready for me, as I put my arms around her waist, she put her arms under my body and flipped me backwards, I impacted the mat on my back, crying out.
With a smile on her face, Arsewipe turned around and arms out she belly-flopped on top of me. Her body slammed into my body. I jack-knifed.
I was in trouble, her body was over my left arm, and both her arms pinned my right arm to the floor.
She had me trapped but I wasn't going to submit to that, and she knew it. I started bucking like e a mad woman and raising my knees. The eejit turned her head to look at the knees I’m slamming into her sides. I got her face, really good. More blood, and a scream, I rolled her and rained kicks into her back until I pushed her off.
I got up, and she was still on her hands and knees, I held her head up by the hair with my left hand, and I slapped her face with my right. Balancing on one arm, her other arm reached out to swipe at me. I kicked at the arm propping her up. She fell flat on her face.
I jumped down, stuffed her head between my thighs and squeezed. my muscles tensed, my skin glistening with the sheen of exertion as I straddled arsewipe. The room seemed to resonate with our ragged panting, echoes of the other’s grunts and scuffles were the soundtrack to our private little war, and as I pinned arsewipe down, I could feel the tremble of defeat beginning to seep into little arsewipe's limbs. Her eyes were wide open and her face red.
Then she fecking bit my tender inner thigh.
I screamed and quickly released her.
"Fud!"
I kicked out at her head in another parting gift. That put her on her back, while I lay there examining my thigh for damage. I saw the bite mark, animal.
We rose, circling. Arsewipe was coughing, I was just livid, the dirty fud.
She swung out a slap, it hit with a smack. Determined to get her, I tried to move in, but I got clipped again, the arsewipe had a longer reach.
I waited for her to come in for another slap. I pivoted on one leg and swung a kick to her head. saliva exploded from her mouth. She span out of control.
I slipped behind her. Grabbing her arms, I had them twisted halfway up her back, viciously mangling them, she cried out, tears streaming down her face. I had an idea and started swinging her around. I looked at Cathy, looked like she had fecked bawheid pretty good and we both nodded.
"One, two, three" I yelled out.
We released our holds at the same time. The fuds tumbled, helter-skelter out of control. Their heads collided with a dull thud. They staggered back, dazed. Arsewipe stumbled into a straight kick to the gut, she folded like a wet-wipe, straight down into my right fist that finished her off.
I looked over the battlefield it was winding down now, maybe five or six battles left, some of the losers, standing around the mat seeing who would win, maybe hoping to see whoever beat them getting beaten up. Big feartie was kicking the shite out of some poor unfortunate. Then I see a little girl, a quinee, number Twelve, circled by a pack of three other girls. They push her from girl to girl like a football, and as she reaches each girl, she gets a kick or a punch. I turn to Cathy, and she nods, we go over to the bullying girls and pick a dance partner, Cathy got Seventy, and I got Fifty-five, Jobby. We each tapped a girl on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," we sang in unison.
They turned around, puzzled.
Sassenach swung at the bigger girl, I headbutted Jobby in the belly, sending her staggering back, clutching her stomach. From the corner of my eye, I saw little Quinee going medieval on the Lavvy-heid's arse.
Jobby lowered her hands from her stomach, raised her hands into fists and charged towards me, I met the charge. We started punching, no defence, just attack. Her fists hit my body like they were lead bars. I hit back putting my body behind the blows.
She got her arm under mine and started pulling me around, launching fists into my body with her free hand.
I tried to drag her to the ground. We struggled trying to trip each other.
Eventually, we tumbled to the ground; she was on her back, and I was between her legs on top of her. I punched down pounding her torso while she punched at my shoulders.
As I tried to rise, she hung onto my neck pulling herself up as well, all her body weight hanging off my poor neck. Slowly I managed to rise with my arms around her neck, she made it to her knees, I was firing punches into her body, and she hammered at my back.
She managed to get up on to feet; I was still clinging to her neck and wrapped my feet around her stomach. She staggered two paces, then we collapsed in a heap. me on the bottom with my legs around her waist and neck, my arms trapping hers, she on top squirming.
It was hard work our sweat-covered bodies made any kind of grip difficult. It was like trying to wrestle a slippery eel. We were grunting as she managed to get her head free of my grip and I fought to get it back in.
I still had her arm, she powered up with her body, rolling me over, I was on all fours, with the bawheid, clambering on top of my back, putting her arms around my neck, now she had her legs around my waist.
She’s going for the choke as she rolled me onto my side. I tried to pull her hands off.
I scrambled, I was on top now, her legs around me I punched into her ribs and belly. She got her elbow under my chin pushing me away. I was still on top and tried to turn her sideways. I smiled as my arm went around her throat, my turn to go for the choke.
She scrambled to rise, she stood but I still had my arm around her neck and my legs squeezed her waist.
Suddenly she fell forward, and my back slammed against the mat, Jobby was lying on top of me, and her grinning face covered my field of vision. Then she rose and slammed me back into the mat, then another slam, Gasping, I lay there stunned.
Meanwhile, Jobby threw my arms from around her and sat down hard on my stomach, it drove the breath out of my body.
Now she was bouncing up and down on my stomach and using different hands to deliver smacks, rocking my face from side to side. Suddenly sassenach stomped her in the back, she fell forwards, I fired a fist into the side of the Jobby and then pulled her to the side by the hair, my turn on top again.
She staggered up, to get onto her feet, me still on her back trying to strangle her and fire punches into her ribs. She paused, summoning her strength and then fell backwards. My back smashed into the mat a fecking gain, and her head smashed into my face, I just lay there stunned, as Jobby rose to her feet. Feck.
Luckily for me, she saw her mate getting pounded by Cathy and abandoning me, she figured she would finish me off later and get some revenge on Cathy. She abandoned me with a slap and went off to help her burd to get a cheap shot in. Instead, she got a mule kick to the gut then my waiting fists as I wasn’t as fecked as she thought.
Right-hook, I knocked her onto her arse. I swear she just bounced on it and got back up. Straight into my left hook, down again. This time her legs collapsed under her skittering like a baby deer.
Right hook, I put all of my body behind it, this time she didn’t get up.
As I stood over the unconscious Jobby, I smiled at the sassenach, and I looked around, what happened to the girl we rescued?
Then I turned some more and saw her.
That poor sweet little girl was holding up Lavvy-heid's unconscious head by the hair like it was a hunting trophy, I think she'd been torturing her. She turns to face us, dropping her trophy head, without a thought. Covered in sweat, she looks like she's been swimming, she's a mess with her blood-stained teeth, two black eyes, and bruises all over her face. When she snarls, it's like she's gone feral, pure 'Lord of the Fecking Flies' territory, she's gone from a poor little girl to a Wagon, a girl of foul and pure evil.
The sassenach is unsure, not two-on-one, not fair, and I know I am the logical choice as we're the same size. We save you from those bullies and this is the thanks we get. I've had three fecking fights so far, I'm covered in blood, and bruises, and I feel wrecked. Come on luv. Nothing personal but I'm going to feck you up really, really, good.
As we collided together, she started firing hysterical slaps into my face I could feel each red stinging slap. I gave her nose a good twist, her blood covered my hands making it slippery as she squealed, but I still tried damned hard to pull her fecking nose off. Then...
Jesus fecking Christ!
She kneed my fud. The crippling pain shot through my body; my mouth opened.
"Shite!" I moaned.
I fell onto my knees, my hands going to my fud. All I can feel is the devastating pain shooting through my body. I've fought stronger, more skilled opponents, but I've never faced one as savage.
She picked my head up by the hair and slapped my face.
I fell to the side; she picked me up by the hair again, ready for another slap and I uppercutted the dirty little shite's fud with my fist. Her eyes widened in pain as she gasped and clutched herself. Payback's a bitch.
We're both on our knees now. Gasping, moaning. Desperate to finish off our rival before we collapse. I can see on her face, that she is exhausted, and at the end of her rope. So am I. This is going to be a slow brutal war of attrition.
She grabbed my nipples plainly visible under the clinging wet leotard and twisted, I howled, piteously, trying to choke back the tears that streamed down my face. I fought back. I grabbed her nipples through her leotard and yanked them down hard. Then out to the sides as far as they will go. She screamed but continued working my nipples in return.
We knelt face to face staring into each other's eyes locked in our fight to the finish. Our arms working furiously, wreaking destruction on each other's modest chebs. I do not know this person, never spoken to her, hell I might even like her. But the only thing that exists for either of us now is the total destruction of the other. Neither of us will quit until the other is sobbing out her surrender. To fight until victorious, no matter the cost.
Then I made my move, I slapped her face, slamming it to the side, and she ejected what little salvia she had left all over on the mat with a cry. Then I pulled her in towards me by her nipples and gut punched her, she choked, her chin landing on my shoulder.
Then she fecking bit me! I screamed as she tried to take a chunk out of my shoulder, and the fecking fud was still working my nipples.
I needed to end this, end her, now. I was too close to exhaustion, no time for anything clever.
I punched down into her fud, her body spasmed, and she gasped out what was left of her breath. I grabbed the crotch part of her leotard and twisted it as I pulled it up into her fud along with ripping out a good handful of her minge. She stopped her nipple attack as she squealed a high-pitched pitiful whine, I allowed myself a grin, I'd fecked her fud. I had broken her.
I pulled the leotard up again, grunting as I pulled, the whines increased in volume.
"You're finished, give up before I really fuck you up! You won't be able to chug let alone fuck!" I whispered. Groaning, I pulled harder, her eyes were closed as her arms reached out blindly seeking relief. But she did not surrender.
I gut-punched her body again, determined to end her and I felt a warm liquid (puke?), running down my back.
She's blubbering, mumbling incoherent rubbish now. I pushed her away by the arms then an uppercut. The blubbering suddenly stopped. She just hung there, swaying in the air, her eyes glassy. Then she fell forward, straight on her face. I moved out of the way and stood up.
Shite!
Big feartie stood right in front of me, a shite-eating grin on her face. The sassenach was lying unconscious at her feet.
I can't face her now, I'm fecked, I've got nothing left. No retreat, no surrender, but I've never felt so helpless, so exhausted not even when the sassenach was pounding me to a pulp.
"It was so much fun to watch. I thought I'd just finish off the winner". Oh, she was loving this. My mind worked feverishly to find a way out.
Big feartie charged I moved out of the way quickly, and as she passed, I delivered a kick to her rear. Right on target, situational awareness y'see, she crashed into a monitor. Oops, how clumsy of me. I held my breath. She can either attack me or the person in front of her. I prayed for option two, please option two, but it all depended on how stupid she was. Big feartie climbed to her feet snarling, she saw the monitor in front of her and attacked. Eejit!
Now when I say ‘attacked’, I mean she got her arse handed to her with just one punch, possibly breaking a jaw, who fecking cares?
I breathe a sigh of relief.
The monitor smiles at me briefly, she knows what I did. Either she didn’t care, or she enjoyed it, I wasn’t sure.
I breathe another sigh of relief.
Now there were just four of us still standing. Miss Business-suit came over to congratulate us and said a decision would be made next week. Cathy came back to consciousness but just walked off in tears before I got a chance to talk to her.
A stretcher came for Big Feartie, and the monitor who despatched her helped me hobble to the showers.
"C’mon little scraper, the war is over".
"Thanks for the help". I mumbled. The monitor smiled at me and whispered,
"It's my pleasure, thanks for giving me the excuse to scrub that psycho bitch! "
A couple of days later I get the phone call. I turn up at the offices in a smart skirt, white shirt and of course sunglasses.
Miss Business-Suit welcomes me in. I surreptitiously steal a look at her screen. I note she has an appointment with Cathy in one hour.
"Congratulations Cynthia Rourke we'd like to offer you a position here at LVM".
“I want you to understand. This is not because you made it to the ‘final four’”. She gestured with air quotes.
"No, it's based upon the report from the monitors”.
“Everybody assumes because of the MSE the winner of the fight is the true winner. This is not true, sometimes you can be unlucky, you can be blind-sided, as happened to your friend”.
“No. Here at LVM we believe we can use the interview brawl to select the best candidates, so we look at the way you fight”.
Cathy was right.
"We were impressed with the way you worked with a former enemy. The way you fought, you fought fair until provoked, then you fought back hard. You didn’t bully people and you always maintained control. We have always found out so much more about the true person after they've been punched in the face. As number 12 showed, who would have known she had such anger management issues?".
I nodded, and instinctively I touched my nipples at the memory, yep, they still ached.
"If we had done it the 'pinnie' way we would have a company of 120s. Imagine that!" She gave a theatrical shudder.
"Good for an MMA company, but not for a science company".
She continued for a bit and as I got up to leave, I stopped to ask.
"Do me a favour?" I asked.
"What? "
"Don't tell Cathy Browne the monitor beat up 120, just say I disposed of her..."
"...the truth will come out, I know, but I'd just like the bragging rights just for a bit". I smiled sheepishly.
"I understand" she smiled, "Well in many ways you did dispose of her yourself, you used your brains to defeat a superior foe, like I said we were very impressed by the way you fought".
"Welcome to LVM" she shook my hand.
I went out and waited for Cathy to come out, it was a nice summer's day and I bought her a coffee. I felt I owed her that much. She was right and because of that I got the job, I just wanted to make sure she got the job as well.
I could tell she'd got the job as soon as she walked out. I hand her the congratulatory cup of coffee. We talked for a bit of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. Details, I don’t remember.
Then we said goodbye knowing that we would meet again and not beat the crap out of each other.
I like her, it's gonna be fun working with her.
Not much of an ending, is it?
Well, that's life sometimes, it’s unpredictable, messy, untidy it doesn’t always finish with a nice little ending. But you’ve been patient listening to me rabbit on, so I do have an ending for ya…
I’m on a boat, 'The Christobel', the 'Sir David Attenborough', details, it doesn't matter. What does matter is it's at night, I'm lying on a blanket on the deck of the boat, it’s a quiet peaceful night and Emma walks out onto the deck. Yes, you heard me right, she walks out. The LVM Bio-tech division and the NHS came through, and the treatment worked!
She lies down beside me. Scratch that, I’m in a sleeping bag and she climbs in, I can feel the warmth of her body. We’re staring at the Aurora Borealis or Aurora Australis, details. I see the beautiful patterns reflected in her glasses. She squeezes my hand; I look at the bands we both wear, gleaming in the aurora light, the bands that bond us, but it is more than that, the beauty binds us.
“I've never seen it like this before, it’s so beautiful”, she says.
“Do you want to know what causes it? This is what I’ve spent my life studying” I ask.
Never taking her eyes away from the beautiful lights playing in the sky, a beatific smile on her face.
“No”.
God, I love her.
She explained to me what the interviewers were looking for, it made sense to me. This is the MSE, so women are supposed to settle their differences with a physical confrontation. If you've got two or more candidates going for the same job inevitably, the unsuccessful candidate would challenge the successful one. Sometimes they would challenge each other before the interview. Eventually, employers just held mass scraps and the winner would get the job. That became the norm. Some scummy employers even started charging for tickets.
Yeah but…
You will end up hiring the badasses.
Yeah but…
LVM is a tech company, that wants smart people who will work well in a team, they don’t want badasses.
According to Cathy, many progressive businesses nowadays take advantage of the anticipated almost obligatory, mass scrap for a job, to assess their applicants; do they work well under pressure? Do they bully people? Do they cooperate? Cathy said that if she and I collaborated, it would prove that we are the kind of people who are willing to set aside our differences and work together towards a shared goal. The Interviewers would love that. The exact technical term she used was ‘fucking flood their fucking panties’.
Sassenach wasn't entirely sure though; she'd heard it all from her dad. It all made perfect sense, but it might just be that the final four fight winners would be the ones that got hired, but what she said made perfect sense, so I agreed.
I turned up at the interview, just before Cathy and selected my leotard, I ended up with Number 10.
Miss Business Suit welcomes us in and explains the rules. Basically, it’s catfight rules, no killing or maiming. The first fight will be against someone the same size and after that, we get to choose who to fight next or group up or whatever. The losers of each fight are eliminated until only four remain. I noticed that she didn't explicitly say that those four would get the job.
I count the others, there are twenty of us competing for four vacancies. We all line up facing each other. I notice that maybe half have the MMA cornrow that me and Cathy have, and the rest have a selection of ponytails, and buns or just have it hanging loose. I’m opposite 11, she looks like a sweet girl, a breagha, she went for the ponytail. She raises her fists; I notice they’re trembling. I feel sorry I'm gonna have to put her down.
“Good Luck”, she says faintly.
“Thanks, you too”, I say back, not meaning it, just to be polite. We bump fists. Oh, this is very civilised.
Breagha comes forward, and so do I, she snapped out a jab that only caught my arm. I quickly sidestepped to her right and snapped a jab that landed on her face. As she wiped a drop of blood from her face, Breagha gave me a look, that hurt, didn't it?
I snapped out another jab, Breagha ducked and fired a right, I rotated my shoulder blocking it with my right arm. I danced away, smiling.
Back again I landed another jab, Breagha yelped. She came back at me, and I moved away.
Then I came back attacking with another jab, she blocked me with her arm.
The next blow she ducked and threw a punch into my belly but before she could even get her arm back, I'd bloodied her nose.
The pace picked up, we were slamming punches into each other's bodies now, the occasional headshot, normally blocked. I dinged her good in the mush, she moved back shook her head and came back for more, which I gave her.
Starting to get angry now. Breagha punched me in the head, I saw stars, but she cried out, she’d hurt her fist. Oh dear, she's fecked now.
I swung an elbow into her face, opening up her nose as she squealed in pain.
Snarling like an animal, she swung with her other fist, I blocked it with my left and gut-punched her with my right. Her lungs exploded out, and she staggered back, moaning. Her face was red, and I could see tears starting to form in her eyes.
She flew out towards me, slapping furiously. I tried to block, but there were too many. I backed off trying to get some space, and the tart followed me. I kicked out, I got her in the chest, and she fell back. I touched my burning face; I found some scratches. The dirty tart! Yeah, the nails are cut short, but if you really try. Not so fecking civilised now, are we?
Her face was red, she started to cry. She was losing and she knew it.
Without warning, she kicked at my fud, but I blocked it. I grabbed her foot.
“You wanna fight like a dirty whore?”
I snarled as I pulled her in by her leg, straight into my fist going up into her fud. I felt the dull thud of impact as my fist drove into her bone. The agony shot through her body. Her mouth was just open croaking. Drool dribbled down her face. She sank to her knees; her hands went to her poor fud.
I grabbed her arms roughly pulling them behind her back and placed my feet on the back of her head, pushing her head down.
"Give up" I demanded.
No reply but she cried freely now. Deep bitter tears.
I pushed with my feet and pulled on her arms, harder.
“Give up” I whispered in her ear, “Don’t make me really fuck you up”.
Silence, as I pulled on her arms again, I was afraid I was going to have to pull her fecking arms off. When…
"I submit" She whined out between sobs. I took my feet off her head and dropped her arms.
A monitor appeared and led my limping, sobbing victim away.
I looked around the field of battle, I saw Big feartie, number 120, you couldn't miss her really, she looked like a big and vicious thug. She was currently in the process of battering some poor girl. The girl wanted to surrender but Big feartie wouldn’t let her, a monitor was rushing over.
I turned and saw the sassenach, she sees me. What she didn’t see was Eighty-Eight and Eighty-Two, Bawheid and arsewipe, sneaking up behind her. I take arsewipe, who was the creep who was nearest to Cathy.
I got arsewipe by the legs as we crashed to the mat. She crashed on her back, I swung a good slap to her face, and her head swung to the side. I tried for a backhand, but arsewipe tangled my arm in hers.
She started pulling me off her. I tried to resist and failed.
She locked an arm around my neck in a headlock and twisted me, one of her chebs was stuffed in my face. I resisted the temptation to bite. I pulled at her hair with my left while the open palm on my right hand clocked her under the chin.
She grunted and squeezed tighter.
I clocked the chin again; I was beginning to fade.
My fist went for her nose. The blood dripped onto my face, she screamed and released me as her hands went for her nose.
I moved away as her vengeful parting slap rocked my face. I kicked her in the belly as my parting gift.
Backing off we both stared at each other.
Yelling out, I charged her.
But arsewipe was ready for me, as I put my arms around her waist, she put her arms under my body and flipped me backwards, I impacted the mat on my back, crying out.
With a smile on her face, Arsewipe turned around and arms out she belly-flopped on top of me. Her body slammed into my body. I jack-knifed.
I was in trouble, her body was over my left arm, and both her arms pinned my right arm to the floor.
She had me trapped but I wasn't going to submit to that, and she knew it. I started bucking like e a mad woman and raising my knees. The eejit turned her head to look at the knees I’m slamming into her sides. I got her face, really good. More blood, and a scream, I rolled her and rained kicks into her back until I pushed her off.
I got up, and she was still on her hands and knees, I held her head up by the hair with my left hand, and I slapped her face with my right. Balancing on one arm, her other arm reached out to swipe at me. I kicked at the arm propping her up. She fell flat on her face.
I jumped down, stuffed her head between my thighs and squeezed. my muscles tensed, my skin glistening with the sheen of exertion as I straddled arsewipe. The room seemed to resonate with our ragged panting, echoes of the other’s grunts and scuffles were the soundtrack to our private little war, and as I pinned arsewipe down, I could feel the tremble of defeat beginning to seep into little arsewipe's limbs. Her eyes were wide open and her face red.
Then she fecking bit my tender inner thigh.
I screamed and quickly released her.
"Fud!"
I kicked out at her head in another parting gift. That put her on her back, while I lay there examining my thigh for damage. I saw the bite mark, animal.
We rose, circling. Arsewipe was coughing, I was just livid, the dirty fud.
She swung out a slap, it hit with a smack. Determined to get her, I tried to move in, but I got clipped again, the arsewipe had a longer reach.
I waited for her to come in for another slap. I pivoted on one leg and swung a kick to her head. saliva exploded from her mouth. She span out of control.
I slipped behind her. Grabbing her arms, I had them twisted halfway up her back, viciously mangling them, she cried out, tears streaming down her face. I had an idea and started swinging her around. I looked at Cathy, looked like she had fecked bawheid pretty good and we both nodded.
"One, two, three" I yelled out.
We released our holds at the same time. The fuds tumbled, helter-skelter out of control. Their heads collided with a dull thud. They staggered back, dazed. Arsewipe stumbled into a straight kick to the gut, she folded like a wet-wipe, straight down into my right fist that finished her off.
I looked over the battlefield it was winding down now, maybe five or six battles left, some of the losers, standing around the mat seeing who would win, maybe hoping to see whoever beat them getting beaten up. Big feartie was kicking the shite out of some poor unfortunate. Then I see a little girl, a quinee, number Twelve, circled by a pack of three other girls. They push her from girl to girl like a football, and as she reaches each girl, she gets a kick or a punch. I turn to Cathy, and she nods, we go over to the bullying girls and pick a dance partner, Cathy got Seventy, and I got Fifty-five, Jobby. We each tapped a girl on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," we sang in unison.
They turned around, puzzled.
Sassenach swung at the bigger girl, I headbutted Jobby in the belly, sending her staggering back, clutching her stomach. From the corner of my eye, I saw little Quinee going medieval on the Lavvy-heid's arse.
Jobby lowered her hands from her stomach, raised her hands into fists and charged towards me, I met the charge. We started punching, no defence, just attack. Her fists hit my body like they were lead bars. I hit back putting my body behind the blows.
She got her arm under mine and started pulling me around, launching fists into my body with her free hand.
I tried to drag her to the ground. We struggled trying to trip each other.
Eventually, we tumbled to the ground; she was on her back, and I was between her legs on top of her. I punched down pounding her torso while she punched at my shoulders.
As I tried to rise, she hung onto my neck pulling herself up as well, all her body weight hanging off my poor neck. Slowly I managed to rise with my arms around her neck, she made it to her knees, I was firing punches into her body, and she hammered at my back.
She managed to get up on to feet; I was still clinging to her neck and wrapped my feet around her stomach. She staggered two paces, then we collapsed in a heap. me on the bottom with my legs around her waist and neck, my arms trapping hers, she on top squirming.
It was hard work our sweat-covered bodies made any kind of grip difficult. It was like trying to wrestle a slippery eel. We were grunting as she managed to get her head free of my grip and I fought to get it back in.
I still had her arm, she powered up with her body, rolling me over, I was on all fours, with the bawheid, clambering on top of my back, putting her arms around my neck, now she had her legs around my waist.
She’s going for the choke as she rolled me onto my side. I tried to pull her hands off.
I scrambled, I was on top now, her legs around me I punched into her ribs and belly. She got her elbow under my chin pushing me away. I was still on top and tried to turn her sideways. I smiled as my arm went around her throat, my turn to go for the choke.
She scrambled to rise, she stood but I still had my arm around her neck and my legs squeezed her waist.
Suddenly she fell forward, and my back slammed against the mat, Jobby was lying on top of me, and her grinning face covered my field of vision. Then she rose and slammed me back into the mat, then another slam, Gasping, I lay there stunned.
Meanwhile, Jobby threw my arms from around her and sat down hard on my stomach, it drove the breath out of my body.
Now she was bouncing up and down on my stomach and using different hands to deliver smacks, rocking my face from side to side. Suddenly sassenach stomped her in the back, she fell forwards, I fired a fist into the side of the Jobby and then pulled her to the side by the hair, my turn on top again.
She staggered up, to get onto her feet, me still on her back trying to strangle her and fire punches into her ribs. She paused, summoning her strength and then fell backwards. My back smashed into the mat a fecking gain, and her head smashed into my face, I just lay there stunned, as Jobby rose to her feet. Feck.
Luckily for me, she saw her mate getting pounded by Cathy and abandoning me, she figured she would finish me off later and get some revenge on Cathy. She abandoned me with a slap and went off to help her burd to get a cheap shot in. Instead, she got a mule kick to the gut then my waiting fists as I wasn’t as fecked as she thought.
Right-hook, I knocked her onto her arse. I swear she just bounced on it and got back up. Straight into my left hook, down again. This time her legs collapsed under her skittering like a baby deer.
Right hook, I put all of my body behind it, this time she didn’t get up.
As I stood over the unconscious Jobby, I smiled at the sassenach, and I looked around, what happened to the girl we rescued?
Then I turned some more and saw her.
That poor sweet little girl was holding up Lavvy-heid's unconscious head by the hair like it was a hunting trophy, I think she'd been torturing her. She turns to face us, dropping her trophy head, without a thought. Covered in sweat, she looks like she's been swimming, she's a mess with her blood-stained teeth, two black eyes, and bruises all over her face. When she snarls, it's like she's gone feral, pure 'Lord of the Fecking Flies' territory, she's gone from a poor little girl to a Wagon, a girl of foul and pure evil.
The sassenach is unsure, not two-on-one, not fair, and I know I am the logical choice as we're the same size. We save you from those bullies and this is the thanks we get. I've had three fecking fights so far, I'm covered in blood, and bruises, and I feel wrecked. Come on luv. Nothing personal but I'm going to feck you up really, really, good.
As we collided together, she started firing hysterical slaps into my face I could feel each red stinging slap. I gave her nose a good twist, her blood covered my hands making it slippery as she squealed, but I still tried damned hard to pull her fecking nose off. Then...
Jesus fecking Christ!
She kneed my fud. The crippling pain shot through my body; my mouth opened.
"Shite!" I moaned.
I fell onto my knees, my hands going to my fud. All I can feel is the devastating pain shooting through my body. I've fought stronger, more skilled opponents, but I've never faced one as savage.
She picked my head up by the hair and slapped my face.
I fell to the side; she picked me up by the hair again, ready for another slap and I uppercutted the dirty little shite's fud with my fist. Her eyes widened in pain as she gasped and clutched herself. Payback's a bitch.
We're both on our knees now. Gasping, moaning. Desperate to finish off our rival before we collapse. I can see on her face, that she is exhausted, and at the end of her rope. So am I. This is going to be a slow brutal war of attrition.
She grabbed my nipples plainly visible under the clinging wet leotard and twisted, I howled, piteously, trying to choke back the tears that streamed down my face. I fought back. I grabbed her nipples through her leotard and yanked them down hard. Then out to the sides as far as they will go. She screamed but continued working my nipples in return.
We knelt face to face staring into each other's eyes locked in our fight to the finish. Our arms working furiously, wreaking destruction on each other's modest chebs. I do not know this person, never spoken to her, hell I might even like her. But the only thing that exists for either of us now is the total destruction of the other. Neither of us will quit until the other is sobbing out her surrender. To fight until victorious, no matter the cost.
Then I made my move, I slapped her face, slamming it to the side, and she ejected what little salvia she had left all over on the mat with a cry. Then I pulled her in towards me by her nipples and gut punched her, she choked, her chin landing on my shoulder.
Then she fecking bit me! I screamed as she tried to take a chunk out of my shoulder, and the fecking fud was still working my nipples.
I needed to end this, end her, now. I was too close to exhaustion, no time for anything clever.
I punched down into her fud, her body spasmed, and she gasped out what was left of her breath. I grabbed the crotch part of her leotard and twisted it as I pulled it up into her fud along with ripping out a good handful of her minge. She stopped her nipple attack as she squealed a high-pitched pitiful whine, I allowed myself a grin, I'd fecked her fud. I had broken her.
I pulled the leotard up again, grunting as I pulled, the whines increased in volume.
"You're finished, give up before I really fuck you up! You won't be able to chug let alone fuck!" I whispered. Groaning, I pulled harder, her eyes were closed as her arms reached out blindly seeking relief. But she did not surrender.
I gut-punched her body again, determined to end her and I felt a warm liquid (puke?), running down my back.
She's blubbering, mumbling incoherent rubbish now. I pushed her away by the arms then an uppercut. The blubbering suddenly stopped. She just hung there, swaying in the air, her eyes glassy. Then she fell forward, straight on her face. I moved out of the way and stood up.
Shite!
Big feartie stood right in front of me, a shite-eating grin on her face. The sassenach was lying unconscious at her feet.
I can't face her now, I'm fecked, I've got nothing left. No retreat, no surrender, but I've never felt so helpless, so exhausted not even when the sassenach was pounding me to a pulp.
"It was so much fun to watch. I thought I'd just finish off the winner". Oh, she was loving this. My mind worked feverishly to find a way out.
Big feartie charged I moved out of the way quickly, and as she passed, I delivered a kick to her rear. Right on target, situational awareness y'see, she crashed into a monitor. Oops, how clumsy of me. I held my breath. She can either attack me or the person in front of her. I prayed for option two, please option two, but it all depended on how stupid she was. Big feartie climbed to her feet snarling, she saw the monitor in front of her and attacked. Eejit!
Now when I say ‘attacked’, I mean she got her arse handed to her with just one punch, possibly breaking a jaw, who fecking cares?
I breathe a sigh of relief.
The monitor smiles at me briefly, she knows what I did. Either she didn’t care, or she enjoyed it, I wasn’t sure.
I breathe another sigh of relief.
Now there were just four of us still standing. Miss Business-suit came over to congratulate us and said a decision would be made next week. Cathy came back to consciousness but just walked off in tears before I got a chance to talk to her.
A stretcher came for Big Feartie, and the monitor who despatched her helped me hobble to the showers.
"C’mon little scraper, the war is over".
"Thanks for the help". I mumbled. The monitor smiled at me and whispered,
"It's my pleasure, thanks for giving me the excuse to scrub that psycho bitch! "
A couple of days later I get the phone call. I turn up at the offices in a smart skirt, white shirt and of course sunglasses.
Miss Business-Suit welcomes me in. I surreptitiously steal a look at her screen. I note she has an appointment with Cathy in one hour.
"Congratulations Cynthia Rourke we'd like to offer you a position here at LVM".
“I want you to understand. This is not because you made it to the ‘final four’”. She gestured with air quotes.
"No, it's based upon the report from the monitors”.
“Everybody assumes because of the MSE the winner of the fight is the true winner. This is not true, sometimes you can be unlucky, you can be blind-sided, as happened to your friend”.
“No. Here at LVM we believe we can use the interview brawl to select the best candidates, so we look at the way you fight”.
Cathy was right.
"We were impressed with the way you worked with a former enemy. The way you fought, you fought fair until provoked, then you fought back hard. You didn’t bully people and you always maintained control. We have always found out so much more about the true person after they've been punched in the face. As number 12 showed, who would have known she had such anger management issues?".
I nodded, and instinctively I touched my nipples at the memory, yep, they still ached.
"If we had done it the 'pinnie' way we would have a company of 120s. Imagine that!" She gave a theatrical shudder.
"Good for an MMA company, but not for a science company".
She continued for a bit and as I got up to leave, I stopped to ask.
"Do me a favour?" I asked.
"What? "
"Don't tell Cathy Browne the monitor beat up 120, just say I disposed of her..."
"...the truth will come out, I know, but I'd just like the bragging rights just for a bit". I smiled sheepishly.
"I understand" she smiled, "Well in many ways you did dispose of her yourself, you used your brains to defeat a superior foe, like I said we were very impressed by the way you fought".
"Welcome to LVM" she shook my hand.
I went out and waited for Cathy to come out, it was a nice summer's day and I bought her a coffee. I felt I owed her that much. She was right and because of that I got the job, I just wanted to make sure she got the job as well.
I could tell she'd got the job as soon as she walked out. I hand her the congratulatory cup of coffee. We talked for a bit of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. Details, I don’t remember.
Then we said goodbye knowing that we would meet again and not beat the crap out of each other.
I like her, it's gonna be fun working with her.
Not much of an ending, is it?
Well, that's life sometimes, it’s unpredictable, messy, untidy it doesn’t always finish with a nice little ending. But you’ve been patient listening to me rabbit on, so I do have an ending for ya…
I’m on a boat, 'The Christobel', the 'Sir David Attenborough', details, it doesn't matter. What does matter is it's at night, I'm lying on a blanket on the deck of the boat, it’s a quiet peaceful night and Emma walks out onto the deck. Yes, you heard me right, she walks out. The LVM Bio-tech division and the NHS came through, and the treatment worked!
She lies down beside me. Scratch that, I’m in a sleeping bag and she climbs in, I can feel the warmth of her body. We’re staring at the Aurora Borealis or Aurora Australis, details. I see the beautiful patterns reflected in her glasses. She squeezes my hand; I look at the bands we both wear, gleaming in the aurora light, the bands that bond us, but it is more than that, the beauty binds us.
“I've never seen it like this before, it’s so beautiful”, she says.
“Do you want to know what causes it? This is what I’ve spent my life studying” I ask.
Never taking her eyes away from the beautiful lights playing in the sky, a beatific smile on her face.
“No”.
God, I love her.
4
Catfighting / MSE 6 Cindy's Story (Bruised Oranges)
« Last post by MikeHales67 on Today at 10:13:45 AM »This one was a long one.
I wrote the second MSE with Cindy in ‘The Internship’ I felt sorry for her and so decided to bring her back for ‘The Interview’. Having written that I felt I owed her own story giving her side of things which turned into a love story.
Hope you enjoy it.
If you are curious this is the John Prine song I’m talking about in the story
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFD2wZaBciY
Yeah, I do love his songs.
I didn't see his dead body, obviously I was fourteen, but I heard all about it later.
When I was young, I was out shovelling some snow from outside the path of our house, when I heard the sirens, it was the Police and the ambulance. An altar boy from our local church, Simon, got killed by a car. He was walking back from rehearsal, along the pavement, the car driver was sober, he hit a patch of ice, skidded, maybe he was lost in thought, the car wasn't travelling fast, but when it skidded it crushed Simon against a garden wall, it mangled his body. It hit me hard, I knew Simon. He was going to play for Scotland, wanted to study music at university, and he already had the university picked out. And now…
Nothing.
School got cancelled, and I think I was shell-shocked, all I did was gaze out the window of my room. It was the unfairness, the futility of life, the knowledge that all your hopes and dreams could be swept away by one stupid, pointless accident. I sat there overwhelmed by the knowledge that I could die, that everything I could ever do was meaningless, you could describe it as an existential crisis. My parents were starting to panic, I think they worried I was self-harming. Then I heard the music drifting into my room, Da was playing this song, the singer had a rough voice, it was about wrapping yourself in a chain of sorrow. It was a weird feeling. some stranger singing your innermost feelings, but he was.
I remembered an old movie; in the film, a character says “ I guess it comes down to a simple choice. Get busy living or get busy dying”. I realised that yes, I was going to die someday, but I had a choice; spend the rest of my life in my room staring out the window or get busy living. It’s the journey, not the destination.
I went downstairs and announced to my mum and Da, that I'd like to go for a walk. My mum was so relieved I was getting out, that she immediately volunteered to take me. We walked along the seashore; I’ll never forget that walk.
That night the Aurora came out. I’d never seen it before, we occasionally get them in Scotland, but I lived near a city and rain, we get a load of that. That night no clouds. We got a full view.
I just stood on the shore and watched the waves, the waves of light in the sky, the waves in the water, so beautiful.
Have you ever watched them, really watched them, why is every wave different? Where did they come from? I stood there entranced by the beauty. I asked my mum, and she had no idea it was or what caused them. Mum and Da were not the most educated, he worked at a petrol station, and she worked at Sainsbury's.
There and then, I made it my life's mission to know everything there was to know about this amazing event. But I studied hard, I was the first person in our family to ever go to university. I was racing out along the seashore of knowledge scooping up as many smooth pebbles and shells as I could greedily stuff in my pockets.
In case you want to know, particles from the sun interact with gases in our atmosphere resulting in beautiful displays of light in the sky. Oxygen in the air gives off the green and red light, the Nitrogen glows blue and purple. The patterns are caused by gravity waves, they’re different to gravitational waves. A gravity wave is a wave propagating on a liquid surface or in a fluid or a gas through the effects of gravity e.g. Waves on the ocean, or cloud patterns in the sky. While gravitational waves are distortions in the fabric of time/space, I bet you're glad we cleared that up, Now where was I?
Now I know about calculus, chaos theory and Navier-Stokes I see the waves and I'm still blown away by the beauty of it all. I discovered that researching waves was, in fact, a subject, Fluid Dynamics and people would pay you good money if you knew this stuff, even more amazingly you could actually do it as a career!
Later I asked my Da about the music, details; he's from Ireland so he's my Da, pronounced dar, not my dad. Getting further off the track, my mum's English and I'm Scottish 'cos I was born there; yep, our family is a proper United Kingdom, all I need is a Welsh brother, scratch that, I don’t want a smelly brother.
In any case, Da was simply listening to the radio and didn't know which song I was referring to. So, I ended up shazaming it to find out, it was a guy called John Prine, who died in 2023. I streamed all of his songs. Yes, I know that makes me old-fashioned, I should have gone to a record shop and bought the vinyl, but I like being able to carry around every song he ever did on my phone. His songs are cynical but optimistic. Even though I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, I'd constantly sing his songs to myself.
I went to university and studied hard. I was known as Cheery Longbottom, after a Terry Pratchett character. The cheery bit was sarcastic 'cos I work hard and didn't party. The Longbottom was even more sarcastic, again, 'cos I'm not, I'm short and skinny and blonde, that's about it. I didn’t really care about what they said, I was too busy studying to socialise.
When the offer came for the Internship to go out on the oceans and study the waves, I jumped at the chance. Turns out I was not the only one, and since this is the MSE we would have to fight for it. The sassenach I had to fight was called Cathy. She'd fought before and won; they called her the Titkiller. Yep, I was scared, but I also wanted that place. They say you shouldn’t fight if you don’t think you can win, no you fight because the alternative is that you spend the rest of your life staring emptily out the window, getting wound up in that chain of sorrow.
I made her work for it, but that sassenach beat me for the internship. I spent a day or so staring out the window, didn’t have much choice, my body ached in places I didn’t even know I had. Then I got busy living, got up and got on with the rest of my life.
First thing first, I enrolled in fight classes, I didn’t want to have this happen to me again. My first instructor told me I would never be a skilled fighter, I was, however, a really good brawler, she recommended MMA classes, so that’s what I did.
On my way back to my room, I stopped off at the Uni bar for a quiet drink, I just wanted to be around people but not have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, it was Karaoke night, feck. The DJ was a right lavvy heid, he was going around everybody getting them to sing. Fecking, feckety, feck. I tried to sit in the corner quietly and finish my drink, but eventually, my luck ran out, the moment I dreaded, which I hoped never would come, came. He stuck a microphone under my face.
"Your turn, to sing us a song". He said so cheerily, that I wanted to strangle him.
"Feck Off!". I said.
Water off a duck’s arse to him, "Go on, sing a song any song". He said.
"Chain of Sorrow" I snapped. That ought to shut him the feck up.
"The John Prine song, okay"
What the actual feck? He's heard of John Prine?
He looked at his phone.
"Loading ..."
What the feckity, feck, feck!!? He has it? Who has John Bloody Prine on their karaoke machine? My heart filled with fear upon realising that I now had to perform the song I had selected in front of all these fecking people!
The music started up and I got handed the microphone. I was less scared when I fought the sassenach! I started singing, no it wasn't singing.
“My hearts in the icehouse
Come hill or come valley"
God, I must have sounded like those monotone tuneless druids droning on and on and on.
"Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley"
Gawd the verse seemed so short when John sang it, now it just seems to go on forever.
"On a cold winter's morning to a church house
Just to shovel some snow”
Maybe it's just as well he's dead as he'll never have to hear this. I can feel every set of eyes in the room boring into me. I want the ground beneath my feet to swallow me up, please.
God now the chorus. I can feel my face glowing bright red, and my throat is getting dry, please God let this end. Let this end. Then I hear another voice.
“YOU CAN GAZE OUT THE WINDOW, GET MAD AND GET MADDER
THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, SAY, "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"
What the feck?
From across the room, another voice joined in, and it was beautiful. Gobsmacked, I looked across the bar. The DJ had this massive grin on his face and there was this girl with a golden voice. I'd heard a version of this song sung by Bonnie Raitt and this kid was like that!
“BUT IT DON'T DO NO GOOD TO GET ANGRY
SO HELP ME, I KNOW”
She wasn't even looking at the karaoke screen, she knew the words by heart. I could tell that they meant a lot to her too.
"FOR A HEART STAINED IN ANGER GROWS WEAK AND GROWS BITTER
YOU BECOME YOUR OWN PRISONER AS YOU WATCH YOURSELF SIT THERE
WRAPPED UP IN A TRAP OF YOUR VERY OWN
CHAIN OF SORROW”
By this point, I was just opening and closing my mouth silently in time, letting her do all the singing. I was just listening. Entranced.
When the song finished, I went over to speak to Miss Bonnie fecking Raitt.
"You like John Prine?" I stammered.
"Yes, I bloody love him. I nagged the DJ into getting some of his songs on the karaoke machine, and I promised him I would always sing along if he played one". She beamed.
"Always loved him". I muttered weakly.
She stared at my bruises and two black eyes, which I still wore after my scrap with the sassenach.
"Did you win?" She asked.
"No", I said. I tried not to sound bitter but failed.
"That's the way that the world goes round" she snickered.
Her name was Emma, and she was a sweet kid and soon-to-be my best friend, my only friend if I’m honest. She had lovely, raven black hair and chebs, nice grapefruit-sized chebs not great-big hulking chebs like some, and way unlike my glorified man-boobs (I'm not jealous!) and she wore glasses which didn't make her look nerdy, just magnified her amazing blue eyes. She was majoring in medicine; she didn’t know or care anything about fluid mechanics, but then the thought of blood and guts and medicine made me wanna boke, but we still found plenty to talk about.
We used to meet between lectures and have a good chat and coffee. It was a couple of weeks after my beating and my bruises and cuts had healed, I no longer looked like a fecking panda. Emma was asking how my training was going, and I said very well.
Suddenly we were interrupted by the gobshite. Can't remember, don't care what her name was. She’s just the gobshite. She was a big loud blonde with big chebs. She'd had a couple of fights at the Uni and won them all, apparently in a couple she'd used those big chebs to smother her opponent out, she was very proud of that, as she informed everybody in the canteen, she called them the ‘Jugs of Doom’, I joked to Emma that she probably had names for them, Emma suggested ‘Gargantua’ and ‘Titania’, we sxxxxxxxed at that. Seeing us sxxxxxxx she turned to Emma.
"Hey sugar tits, how's it going?*
Emma shifted uncomfortably.
“Aw c’mon sugar, give us some honey”. She reached over for Emma’s chebs.
Emma pushed the hand away, trying not to do it too roughly.
“Bitch” gobshite cursed.
“Stop it!” I spoke. I was going to get involved, shite.
“Oh, the girlfriend, little stumpy”. She turned and looked at my chest with a look of amazement on her face.
"Fuck me I've never seen in-growing tIts before! Does it hurt?".
The gobshite was trying to wind me up. I refused to take the bait.
"She’s not my girlfriend, just leave her alone feartie!". Maybe I took the bait just a little.
She gave me a puzzled look.
"What? "
"Cow, you glaikit sassenach!"
"Don't you talk to your betters like that. I'll put you in your place”.
I just looked at her. My best steely-eyed missile man look.
"You can try, anytime, I'm not afraid of you".
"Are you challenging me loser? "
“Yes, if you don’t leave her alone”. I’d gone and done it now.
"Are you after another beating, panda face?" She continued.
“Fine, Friday night. I’ll beat the shit out of you and then spend some quality time with my little sugar tits”, she blew a kiss at Emma. “Laters…”
I’d done it now. I didn't know if I would win. But I couldn't stare out the window. I had to keep living. I knew she wanted to reduce me to a crying mess and hurt me badly in front of her friends. What had not penetrated her tiny little mind was that I wanted exactly the same for her.
After gobshite had gone, Emma turned to me.
“You don’t have to do this”.
“I do, friends do this for friends. You can’t challenge her, but I can”.
Did I tell you she was in a wheelchair? This MSE business is not so good for disabled people. Sure, they can have cripple fights (God I hate that word) against each other, but against us ‘Normies’ they’re always at a disadvantage. They always need a champion, and I would be Emma's whether she wanted one or not. That’s what friends do for friends.
Friday, I got to the fight arena fifteen minutes early, I didn't want to stand around. It was the same place I'd fought the sassenach, a converted lecture theatre. The lecturer’s lectern had been removed, and the entire area was covered in matting. Last time it was a private event, a was a darkened room with polite applause from the professors. This was a public one, full lighting, and the seats were full of the paying, braying audience, the crowd was loud, nothing would be polite about this lot. The only other difference was that the matting was enclosed within a roped-off area, so we had a ring.
I was wearing my hair in a bun, white chemise and shorts. I wouldn't say it was my lucky outfit after last time. But it's what I felt most comfortable with, it's a fight, not a striptease. gobshite wore a black bikini, she sure liked to show off those udders.
We were first on; the running order was decided by how likely it was to overrun and mess up the time slots for the other fights. They obviously didn't think we'd overrun. I’d like to be able to say they did it ‘cos they thought I’d easily win. Yeah, dream on.
Emma kissed me on the cheek.
"For luck". She smiled, but you could see the worry on her face.
I touched my cheek.
"For luck" I repeated dumbly.
Silence. We stared at each other.
"Well, I can’t hang around here all day, I've got a gobshite to beat up", I said as I walked into the amphitheatre.
“Beat her up good!” Emma called after me.
The announcer said something, I don't know what, the audience just blurred into background noise. It was just the gobshite and me, nothing else existed.
Gobshite held out her hand, with a questioning look on her face, she wanted to shake.
It seemed churlish not to accept so I did.
We shook.
"May the best girl win". She grinned as she pulled me into a devastating gut punch. The contents of my mouth sprayed across the mat. I staggered away from her, bent over in pain.
She grinned, and paused, taking her time to think about what she should do next. While she was doing that, I charged into her belly taking her to the ground. I hit her in the nose, then a one-two shot to her eyes. I was about to start on the rest of her face when two fingers went for my eyes, I screamed as she pulled me off her by the hair.
As I rolled, I got a good skelp into her face, her cheek went red.
She grabbed my hair, pulling it into a punch to the face. I yelped. I started punching at her body. Raising her hand, she slapped me hard across the face, forehand, then a backhand. She didn't see what I was doing until I clamped my legs hard around her waist. She gasped out, her arms windmilling blindly. Grunting, I pumped my legs and yanked her head back by the hair to face the ceiling. I pulsed and pulled her hair again. I was hoping I could just pulse her into oblivion.
Until she brought down her fists onto my little chebs. I may not have much in the way of chebs, but I still have nerve endings there. I opened my mouth in a silent scream. She joined her hands together whacking me on the side of the head, it spun to the side. She raised her arms again for another blow.
My feet stopped pedalling empty air and launched straight out into her face. I didn't feel the crunch, but I saw the spray. Her body launched back. I raised my head to see what I had done, I saw her lying on her back, gasping, good. I let my head drop back and had a few gasps myself.
We both lay there gasping, preparing ourselves for the next stage. The crowd cheered us on, there had to be a winner, and they wanted to see the violence continue.
Slowly she unsteadily got to her feet, I saw her rise, and I struggled to get up. She got there first and kicked me hard in the chest as I was rising. I curled up to protect myself as she frantically kicked at me. I kicked out with my feet, and she tripped. As she went down, I kicked her in the face opening up her lip.
We got back to our feet, carefully, never taking our eyes off each other, circling. She knew she was in a real fight now. I wasn't the pushover she expected.
She charged in, grabbing me by my chemise, the buttons flew across the mat, and she swung me by the shirt, into the ropes, as I hung there the crowd could see my bare chest as I did nae wear a bra, she grabbed my body and started abrasing my chest against the hard ropes, my top was tangled round my arms, my face was red with tears flowing down my face, and my chest glowed a smouldering red like it was on fire. She seized the back of my head and then started rubbing my eyes into the ropes. I tightly closed them, trying to protect them from the chafing.
Satisfied with the damage she had done, she moved away. Showing off to the crowd as I tried to put myself together. My vision was blurry, my chest felt like it was on fire. I was in a bad way. I was at her mercy. She jerked down on my shirt leaving me in nothing but my shorts. Instinctively I crossed my arms trying to cover myself up, the crowd laughed.
“Show us your tiny tits, you in-growing freak!” she jeered.
Spinning me around, then she jumped on my back and put her arms across my throat, feck! I was in a serious choke situation, with my arms out, I fell to the mats, and under the crushing weight of the gobshite, unable to take the pressure, my arms gave way. I fell flat onto the mats.
I struggled for what seemed like forever, to get this gobshite off my back, I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move my legs. My body felt so sore. I was starting to get dizzy; I was so fecked. That bullying tart was gonna win. I wanted to cry. Then the ghalla started punching me in my fecking back, I would have gasped but I have no breath, remember? If she hits a kidney...
She’s crowing, revelling in her triumph, what she’s going to do with me, what she’s going to do with Emma, poor Emma. I can’t let her down.
Then the thought hit me if she's punching my back, there must be space between us. My hands reached behind me, searching, I found her big fat juicy cheb and squeezed and twisted with all my might. She screamed, releasing the chokehold at once.
"I’m gonna fecking tear them off and stick them up yer fecking fat arse!" I threatened.
Giving a good twist, I rolled her by the cheb onto the mat. Then with my other hand clawing face, I banged her head into the mat, once, twice. Then furiously went to work on destroying her prized chebs with both my hands free. I smashed them together like I was pounding rocks.
She was sobbing now. She reached up to my bared chebs and squeezed my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. like she was going to carve them off.
"Oh, yer fecking piece of shite!" I moaned.
Gobshite just cackled and squeezed harder, my nipples were flooding my entire body with agony. But I would not give in, for Emma. I gritted my teeth and started moving my hands up and down pulling those chebs into cones and then mashing them flat driving my thumbs into her nipples. My bony arse bounced up and down on her stomach. Her sobs were getting louder. I was breaking the bitch, I was going to do it, I was gonna...
Her flailing fist crashed into my temple, slamming my head back. By reflex, my grip on her big chebs loosened and she was pushing with her body, scrambling with her legs she kicked me away.
Damn! I almost had her!
She was standing, moaning, sobbing, gasping, her fists raised, a murderous look on her face. I raised mine. Emma was gesturing with her fists. "Fuck her up!", I thought she said. The crowd was calling out the same thing. We floundered together like a couple of drunks, the end was coming for one of us, and we both knew it.
She swung, and I ducked, firing a punch into her belly, my fist sank up to my wrists, and she gasped.
She swung a right, mashing my face, and I stumbled back to the ropes.
She came after me, I fired a kick straight into her belly. Staggering back, she bent over. I raised my arms my hands joined together ready to bring an axe-handle down on her. She headbutted me in the chest. I bounced off the ropes straight back into her.
We staggered together we were both running on fumes. She was determined not to lose her winning streak to me. I was determined to beat her senseless.
She swung a right at my face. I moved back, she hit empty air.
"I beaten four fucking bitches. I am not losing to a runt like you".
"Yes, you are!"
As my right hook slammed into her head. I realised my arms felt like lead weights.
She clocked me with an uppercut on my chin, my head flew back, and I staggered back seeing stars, my eyes glazed over.
She reached behind her back and undid what was left of her bikini top, twirling it around and throwing it into the audience, who cheered, of course. She was going for the big finish, she had me fecked, her winning streak unbroken, she grabbed me round the neck and started tossing those chebs of hers into my face. Not as much fun as it sounds, my head was getting pummelled by a kilo of tit flesh, and my senses were scrambled. She raised her arm, smirking for the audience, she had done it, she had beaten me, her record unbroken as she guided my head in for the smother from those jugs of doom.
What she didn't expect was my fist in her gut, with all my remaining strength, I put my entire body behind it. The contents of her lungs boked out in one giant gasp and her eyes came out on stalks. Her arms fell away, and I moved back ready for my next move.
I pivoted and kicked her in the head, her eyes went blank, and she lazily fell onto her face. Splat. A bit of whining and gasping from the floor. She was done, but I wasn't. I needed to make this public; I wanted her pride, on my wall, displayed for all to see.
"Give up? " I asked.
"Fuck off haggis-shagger!"
She tried to rise. I stamped on her back; she caved in, crumbling down face first, her body right on top of those mutant chebs which oozed out all over the mat.
Hmmm…
I stood on her splayed-out cheb, pressing and bouncing up and down hard. She screamed. Then straddling her I stepped on the other cheb. She howled and sobbed. Not good enough.
I slammed down arse first onto her back, never taking my feet off those chebs, I pulled her head back by the hair. I'm staring into her red tearful upside-down eyes.
"You'll have the chebs of a saggy ninety year by the time I finish with you!" I informed her.
I could see the fear in her eyes, good.
I could see Emma cheering, the crowd was going wild for me, turns out not many people liked her, what a surprise, apart from that handful of hangers-on whose social status depended on her. They were tearfully begging, pleading with her to do something, anything.
No fecking chance.
I started twisting the heel of my foot like I was stubbing out a fag. There was a nipple in there, I'm sure.
She surrendered pretty fecking quickly then. The flood of tears had turned into a tsunami.
"I submit...I fucking submit...please stop".
I ground my foot in harder and I bounced even more.
“Louder!”
She screamed out “I surrender…I surrender…Please stop…I’m begging you!”
I stubbed on her chebs a few more times, just to make sure. Then I unsteadily rose, taking my feet off those chebs.
Then the floodgates opened, she curled up holding her chebs and started bawling like a little-bitty-baby. I gave her a contemptuous kick on the back and then triumphantly walked away. The sound of the cheering audience rang in my ears. Feck me backwards, I’ve got adoring fans! I was waving my arms, smiling as I staggered off the stage.
I fecking won! I fecking won!
Off to the wings of our little Amphitheatre were rooms with a bed for the combatants to recover after their fight. As I lay there, my head spinning, I heard the door open, and Emma wheeled herself in. She sat there staring at me, pondering something, something serious I could tell. Then she spoke,
"Thank you"
"No problemo. That's what friends do for friends". I replied in my best casual voice, with a smile.
She looked to the floor; something was really on her mind.
"Look Cindy, there's something I need to tell you. I....I...I"
She was struggling poor luv!
I decided to put her out of her misery.
"I know," I said as I pulled her in close and then kissed her mouth. She was shocked, she wasn't expecting that. Shite, did I read this wrong? Then she responded, passionately. Gently she pulled my head into hers.
It was going to be the first of a million kisses.
Between kisses, I told her how glad I was that the DJ made me sing that night.
She smiled a very smug self-satisfied smile.
"Why the fuck do you think that DJ asked you to sing..."
"...Because I asked him to, you wazzock...".
"...You looked so beautiful. sad, lonely, like a little beat-up teddy bear, sitting there alone in the corner. I felt sorry for you, I wanted to cheer you up. The DJ's a friend, so I got him to ask you to sing. I didn’t know you liked John Prine, I was expecting an ABBA song or something”.
Then it occurred to me. I’d wanted that internship more than anything else in the world. I was so devastated when I lost. But if I hadn't lost, I would never have met Emma. Losing the Internship was the price I had to pay for knowing Emma. The aurora will still be there, there will be other chances and I'll win them, but now Emma will be by my side. Maybe I should thank that sassenach, Cathy.
And I did, kinda, sorta...
...did I tell you about when I met the sassenach again?
I wrote the second MSE with Cindy in ‘The Internship’ I felt sorry for her and so decided to bring her back for ‘The Interview’. Having written that I felt I owed her own story giving her side of things which turned into a love story.
Hope you enjoy it.
If you are curious this is the John Prine song I’m talking about in the story
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFD2wZaBciY
Yeah, I do love his songs.
I didn't see his dead body, obviously I was fourteen, but I heard all about it later.
When I was young, I was out shovelling some snow from outside the path of our house, when I heard the sirens, it was the Police and the ambulance. An altar boy from our local church, Simon, got killed by a car. He was walking back from rehearsal, along the pavement, the car driver was sober, he hit a patch of ice, skidded, maybe he was lost in thought, the car wasn't travelling fast, but when it skidded it crushed Simon against a garden wall, it mangled his body. It hit me hard, I knew Simon. He was going to play for Scotland, wanted to study music at university, and he already had the university picked out. And now…
Nothing.
School got cancelled, and I think I was shell-shocked, all I did was gaze out the window of my room. It was the unfairness, the futility of life, the knowledge that all your hopes and dreams could be swept away by one stupid, pointless accident. I sat there overwhelmed by the knowledge that I could die, that everything I could ever do was meaningless, you could describe it as an existential crisis. My parents were starting to panic, I think they worried I was self-harming. Then I heard the music drifting into my room, Da was playing this song, the singer had a rough voice, it was about wrapping yourself in a chain of sorrow. It was a weird feeling. some stranger singing your innermost feelings, but he was.
I remembered an old movie; in the film, a character says “ I guess it comes down to a simple choice. Get busy living or get busy dying”. I realised that yes, I was going to die someday, but I had a choice; spend the rest of my life in my room staring out the window or get busy living. It’s the journey, not the destination.
I went downstairs and announced to my mum and Da, that I'd like to go for a walk. My mum was so relieved I was getting out, that she immediately volunteered to take me. We walked along the seashore; I’ll never forget that walk.
That night the Aurora came out. I’d never seen it before, we occasionally get them in Scotland, but I lived near a city and rain, we get a load of that. That night no clouds. We got a full view.
I just stood on the shore and watched the waves, the waves of light in the sky, the waves in the water, so beautiful.
Have you ever watched them, really watched them, why is every wave different? Where did they come from? I stood there entranced by the beauty. I asked my mum, and she had no idea it was or what caused them. Mum and Da were not the most educated, he worked at a petrol station, and she worked at Sainsbury's.
There and then, I made it my life's mission to know everything there was to know about this amazing event. But I studied hard, I was the first person in our family to ever go to university. I was racing out along the seashore of knowledge scooping up as many smooth pebbles and shells as I could greedily stuff in my pockets.
In case you want to know, particles from the sun interact with gases in our atmosphere resulting in beautiful displays of light in the sky. Oxygen in the air gives off the green and red light, the Nitrogen glows blue and purple. The patterns are caused by gravity waves, they’re different to gravitational waves. A gravity wave is a wave propagating on a liquid surface or in a fluid or a gas through the effects of gravity e.g. Waves on the ocean, or cloud patterns in the sky. While gravitational waves are distortions in the fabric of time/space, I bet you're glad we cleared that up, Now where was I?
Now I know about calculus, chaos theory and Navier-Stokes I see the waves and I'm still blown away by the beauty of it all. I discovered that researching waves was, in fact, a subject, Fluid Dynamics and people would pay you good money if you knew this stuff, even more amazingly you could actually do it as a career!
Later I asked my Da about the music, details; he's from Ireland so he's my Da, pronounced dar, not my dad. Getting further off the track, my mum's English and I'm Scottish 'cos I was born there; yep, our family is a proper United Kingdom, all I need is a Welsh brother, scratch that, I don’t want a smelly brother.
In any case, Da was simply listening to the radio and didn't know which song I was referring to. So, I ended up shazaming it to find out, it was a guy called John Prine, who died in 2023. I streamed all of his songs. Yes, I know that makes me old-fashioned, I should have gone to a record shop and bought the vinyl, but I like being able to carry around every song he ever did on my phone. His songs are cynical but optimistic. Even though I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, I'd constantly sing his songs to myself.
I went to university and studied hard. I was known as Cheery Longbottom, after a Terry Pratchett character. The cheery bit was sarcastic 'cos I work hard and didn't party. The Longbottom was even more sarcastic, again, 'cos I'm not, I'm short and skinny and blonde, that's about it. I didn’t really care about what they said, I was too busy studying to socialise.
When the offer came for the Internship to go out on the oceans and study the waves, I jumped at the chance. Turns out I was not the only one, and since this is the MSE we would have to fight for it. The sassenach I had to fight was called Cathy. She'd fought before and won; they called her the Titkiller. Yep, I was scared, but I also wanted that place. They say you shouldn’t fight if you don’t think you can win, no you fight because the alternative is that you spend the rest of your life staring emptily out the window, getting wound up in that chain of sorrow.
I made her work for it, but that sassenach beat me for the internship. I spent a day or so staring out the window, didn’t have much choice, my body ached in places I didn’t even know I had. Then I got busy living, got up and got on with the rest of my life.
First thing first, I enrolled in fight classes, I didn’t want to have this happen to me again. My first instructor told me I would never be a skilled fighter, I was, however, a really good brawler, she recommended MMA classes, so that’s what I did.
On my way back to my room, I stopped off at the Uni bar for a quiet drink, I just wanted to be around people but not have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, it was Karaoke night, feck. The DJ was a right lavvy heid, he was going around everybody getting them to sing. Fecking, feckety, feck. I tried to sit in the corner quietly and finish my drink, but eventually, my luck ran out, the moment I dreaded, which I hoped never would come, came. He stuck a microphone under my face.
"Your turn, to sing us a song". He said so cheerily, that I wanted to strangle him.
"Feck Off!". I said.
Water off a duck’s arse to him, "Go on, sing a song any song". He said.
"Chain of Sorrow" I snapped. That ought to shut him the feck up.
"The John Prine song, okay"
What the actual feck? He's heard of John Prine?
He looked at his phone.
"Loading ..."
What the feckity, feck, feck!!? He has it? Who has John Bloody Prine on their karaoke machine? My heart filled with fear upon realising that I now had to perform the song I had selected in front of all these fecking people!
The music started up and I got handed the microphone. I was less scared when I fought the sassenach! I started singing, no it wasn't singing.
“My hearts in the icehouse
Come hill or come valley"
God, I must have sounded like those monotone tuneless druids droning on and on and on.
"Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley"
Gawd the verse seemed so short when John sang it, now it just seems to go on forever.
"On a cold winter's morning to a church house
Just to shovel some snow”
Maybe it's just as well he's dead as he'll never have to hear this. I can feel every set of eyes in the room boring into me. I want the ground beneath my feet to swallow me up, please.
God now the chorus. I can feel my face glowing bright red, and my throat is getting dry, please God let this end. Let this end. Then I hear another voice.
“YOU CAN GAZE OUT THE WINDOW, GET MAD AND GET MADDER
THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, SAY, "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"
What the feck?
From across the room, another voice joined in, and it was beautiful. Gobsmacked, I looked across the bar. The DJ had this massive grin on his face and there was this girl with a golden voice. I'd heard a version of this song sung by Bonnie Raitt and this kid was like that!
“BUT IT DON'T DO NO GOOD TO GET ANGRY
SO HELP ME, I KNOW”
She wasn't even looking at the karaoke screen, she knew the words by heart. I could tell that they meant a lot to her too.
"FOR A HEART STAINED IN ANGER GROWS WEAK AND GROWS BITTER
YOU BECOME YOUR OWN PRISONER AS YOU WATCH YOURSELF SIT THERE
WRAPPED UP IN A TRAP OF YOUR VERY OWN
CHAIN OF SORROW”
By this point, I was just opening and closing my mouth silently in time, letting her do all the singing. I was just listening. Entranced.
When the song finished, I went over to speak to Miss Bonnie fecking Raitt.
"You like John Prine?" I stammered.
"Yes, I bloody love him. I nagged the DJ into getting some of his songs on the karaoke machine, and I promised him I would always sing along if he played one". She beamed.
"Always loved him". I muttered weakly.
She stared at my bruises and two black eyes, which I still wore after my scrap with the sassenach.
"Did you win?" She asked.
"No", I said. I tried not to sound bitter but failed.
"That's the way that the world goes round" she snickered.
Her name was Emma, and she was a sweet kid and soon-to-be my best friend, my only friend if I’m honest. She had lovely, raven black hair and chebs, nice grapefruit-sized chebs not great-big hulking chebs like some, and way unlike my glorified man-boobs (I'm not jealous!) and she wore glasses which didn't make her look nerdy, just magnified her amazing blue eyes. She was majoring in medicine; she didn’t know or care anything about fluid mechanics, but then the thought of blood and guts and medicine made me wanna boke, but we still found plenty to talk about.
We used to meet between lectures and have a good chat and coffee. It was a couple of weeks after my beating and my bruises and cuts had healed, I no longer looked like a fecking panda. Emma was asking how my training was going, and I said very well.
Suddenly we were interrupted by the gobshite. Can't remember, don't care what her name was. She’s just the gobshite. She was a big loud blonde with big chebs. She'd had a couple of fights at the Uni and won them all, apparently in a couple she'd used those big chebs to smother her opponent out, she was very proud of that, as she informed everybody in the canteen, she called them the ‘Jugs of Doom’, I joked to Emma that she probably had names for them, Emma suggested ‘Gargantua’ and ‘Titania’, we sxxxxxxxed at that. Seeing us sxxxxxxx she turned to Emma.
"Hey sugar tits, how's it going?*
Emma shifted uncomfortably.
“Aw c’mon sugar, give us some honey”. She reached over for Emma’s chebs.
Emma pushed the hand away, trying not to do it too roughly.
“Bitch” gobshite cursed.
“Stop it!” I spoke. I was going to get involved, shite.
“Oh, the girlfriend, little stumpy”. She turned and looked at my chest with a look of amazement on her face.
"Fuck me I've never seen in-growing tIts before! Does it hurt?".
The gobshite was trying to wind me up. I refused to take the bait.
"She’s not my girlfriend, just leave her alone feartie!". Maybe I took the bait just a little.
She gave me a puzzled look.
"What? "
"Cow, you glaikit sassenach!"
"Don't you talk to your betters like that. I'll put you in your place”.
I just looked at her. My best steely-eyed missile man look.
"You can try, anytime, I'm not afraid of you".
"Are you challenging me loser? "
“Yes, if you don’t leave her alone”. I’d gone and done it now.
"Are you after another beating, panda face?" She continued.
“Fine, Friday night. I’ll beat the shit out of you and then spend some quality time with my little sugar tits”, she blew a kiss at Emma. “Laters…”
I’d done it now. I didn't know if I would win. But I couldn't stare out the window. I had to keep living. I knew she wanted to reduce me to a crying mess and hurt me badly in front of her friends. What had not penetrated her tiny little mind was that I wanted exactly the same for her.
After gobshite had gone, Emma turned to me.
“You don’t have to do this”.
“I do, friends do this for friends. You can’t challenge her, but I can”.
Did I tell you she was in a wheelchair? This MSE business is not so good for disabled people. Sure, they can have cripple fights (God I hate that word) against each other, but against us ‘Normies’ they’re always at a disadvantage. They always need a champion, and I would be Emma's whether she wanted one or not. That’s what friends do for friends.
Friday, I got to the fight arena fifteen minutes early, I didn't want to stand around. It was the same place I'd fought the sassenach, a converted lecture theatre. The lecturer’s lectern had been removed, and the entire area was covered in matting. Last time it was a private event, a was a darkened room with polite applause from the professors. This was a public one, full lighting, and the seats were full of the paying, braying audience, the crowd was loud, nothing would be polite about this lot. The only other difference was that the matting was enclosed within a roped-off area, so we had a ring.
I was wearing my hair in a bun, white chemise and shorts. I wouldn't say it was my lucky outfit after last time. But it's what I felt most comfortable with, it's a fight, not a striptease. gobshite wore a black bikini, she sure liked to show off those udders.
We were first on; the running order was decided by how likely it was to overrun and mess up the time slots for the other fights. They obviously didn't think we'd overrun. I’d like to be able to say they did it ‘cos they thought I’d easily win. Yeah, dream on.
Emma kissed me on the cheek.
"For luck". She smiled, but you could see the worry on her face.
I touched my cheek.
"For luck" I repeated dumbly.
Silence. We stared at each other.
"Well, I can’t hang around here all day, I've got a gobshite to beat up", I said as I walked into the amphitheatre.
“Beat her up good!” Emma called after me.
The announcer said something, I don't know what, the audience just blurred into background noise. It was just the gobshite and me, nothing else existed.
Gobshite held out her hand, with a questioning look on her face, she wanted to shake.
It seemed churlish not to accept so I did.
We shook.
"May the best girl win". She grinned as she pulled me into a devastating gut punch. The contents of my mouth sprayed across the mat. I staggered away from her, bent over in pain.
She grinned, and paused, taking her time to think about what she should do next. While she was doing that, I charged into her belly taking her to the ground. I hit her in the nose, then a one-two shot to her eyes. I was about to start on the rest of her face when two fingers went for my eyes, I screamed as she pulled me off her by the hair.
As I rolled, I got a good skelp into her face, her cheek went red.
She grabbed my hair, pulling it into a punch to the face. I yelped. I started punching at her body. Raising her hand, she slapped me hard across the face, forehand, then a backhand. She didn't see what I was doing until I clamped my legs hard around her waist. She gasped out, her arms windmilling blindly. Grunting, I pumped my legs and yanked her head back by the hair to face the ceiling. I pulsed and pulled her hair again. I was hoping I could just pulse her into oblivion.
Until she brought down her fists onto my little chebs. I may not have much in the way of chebs, but I still have nerve endings there. I opened my mouth in a silent scream. She joined her hands together whacking me on the side of the head, it spun to the side. She raised her arms again for another blow.
My feet stopped pedalling empty air and launched straight out into her face. I didn't feel the crunch, but I saw the spray. Her body launched back. I raised my head to see what I had done, I saw her lying on her back, gasping, good. I let my head drop back and had a few gasps myself.
We both lay there gasping, preparing ourselves for the next stage. The crowd cheered us on, there had to be a winner, and they wanted to see the violence continue.
Slowly she unsteadily got to her feet, I saw her rise, and I struggled to get up. She got there first and kicked me hard in the chest as I was rising. I curled up to protect myself as she frantically kicked at me. I kicked out with my feet, and she tripped. As she went down, I kicked her in the face opening up her lip.
We got back to our feet, carefully, never taking our eyes off each other, circling. She knew she was in a real fight now. I wasn't the pushover she expected.
She charged in, grabbing me by my chemise, the buttons flew across the mat, and she swung me by the shirt, into the ropes, as I hung there the crowd could see my bare chest as I did nae wear a bra, she grabbed my body and started abrasing my chest against the hard ropes, my top was tangled round my arms, my face was red with tears flowing down my face, and my chest glowed a smouldering red like it was on fire. She seized the back of my head and then started rubbing my eyes into the ropes. I tightly closed them, trying to protect them from the chafing.
Satisfied with the damage she had done, she moved away. Showing off to the crowd as I tried to put myself together. My vision was blurry, my chest felt like it was on fire. I was in a bad way. I was at her mercy. She jerked down on my shirt leaving me in nothing but my shorts. Instinctively I crossed my arms trying to cover myself up, the crowd laughed.
“Show us your tiny tits, you in-growing freak!” she jeered.
Spinning me around, then she jumped on my back and put her arms across my throat, feck! I was in a serious choke situation, with my arms out, I fell to the mats, and under the crushing weight of the gobshite, unable to take the pressure, my arms gave way. I fell flat onto the mats.
I struggled for what seemed like forever, to get this gobshite off my back, I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move my legs. My body felt so sore. I was starting to get dizzy; I was so fecked. That bullying tart was gonna win. I wanted to cry. Then the ghalla started punching me in my fecking back, I would have gasped but I have no breath, remember? If she hits a kidney...
She’s crowing, revelling in her triumph, what she’s going to do with me, what she’s going to do with Emma, poor Emma. I can’t let her down.
Then the thought hit me if she's punching my back, there must be space between us. My hands reached behind me, searching, I found her big fat juicy cheb and squeezed and twisted with all my might. She screamed, releasing the chokehold at once.
"I’m gonna fecking tear them off and stick them up yer fecking fat arse!" I threatened.
Giving a good twist, I rolled her by the cheb onto the mat. Then with my other hand clawing face, I banged her head into the mat, once, twice. Then furiously went to work on destroying her prized chebs with both my hands free. I smashed them together like I was pounding rocks.
She was sobbing now. She reached up to my bared chebs and squeezed my nipples between her thumb and forefinger. like she was going to carve them off.
"Oh, yer fecking piece of shite!" I moaned.
Gobshite just cackled and squeezed harder, my nipples were flooding my entire body with agony. But I would not give in, for Emma. I gritted my teeth and started moving my hands up and down pulling those chebs into cones and then mashing them flat driving my thumbs into her nipples. My bony arse bounced up and down on her stomach. Her sobs were getting louder. I was breaking the bitch, I was going to do it, I was gonna...
Her flailing fist crashed into my temple, slamming my head back. By reflex, my grip on her big chebs loosened and she was pushing with her body, scrambling with her legs she kicked me away.
Damn! I almost had her!
She was standing, moaning, sobbing, gasping, her fists raised, a murderous look on her face. I raised mine. Emma was gesturing with her fists. "Fuck her up!", I thought she said. The crowd was calling out the same thing. We floundered together like a couple of drunks, the end was coming for one of us, and we both knew it.
She swung, and I ducked, firing a punch into her belly, my fist sank up to my wrists, and she gasped.
She swung a right, mashing my face, and I stumbled back to the ropes.
She came after me, I fired a kick straight into her belly. Staggering back, she bent over. I raised my arms my hands joined together ready to bring an axe-handle down on her. She headbutted me in the chest. I bounced off the ropes straight back into her.
We staggered together we were both running on fumes. She was determined not to lose her winning streak to me. I was determined to beat her senseless.
She swung a right at my face. I moved back, she hit empty air.
"I beaten four fucking bitches. I am not losing to a runt like you".
"Yes, you are!"
As my right hook slammed into her head. I realised my arms felt like lead weights.
She clocked me with an uppercut on my chin, my head flew back, and I staggered back seeing stars, my eyes glazed over.
She reached behind her back and undid what was left of her bikini top, twirling it around and throwing it into the audience, who cheered, of course. She was going for the big finish, she had me fecked, her winning streak unbroken, she grabbed me round the neck and started tossing those chebs of hers into my face. Not as much fun as it sounds, my head was getting pummelled by a kilo of tit flesh, and my senses were scrambled. She raised her arm, smirking for the audience, she had done it, she had beaten me, her record unbroken as she guided my head in for the smother from those jugs of doom.
What she didn't expect was my fist in her gut, with all my remaining strength, I put my entire body behind it. The contents of her lungs boked out in one giant gasp and her eyes came out on stalks. Her arms fell away, and I moved back ready for my next move.
I pivoted and kicked her in the head, her eyes went blank, and she lazily fell onto her face. Splat. A bit of whining and gasping from the floor. She was done, but I wasn't. I needed to make this public; I wanted her pride, on my wall, displayed for all to see.
"Give up? " I asked.
"Fuck off haggis-shagger!"
She tried to rise. I stamped on her back; she caved in, crumbling down face first, her body right on top of those mutant chebs which oozed out all over the mat.
Hmmm…
I stood on her splayed-out cheb, pressing and bouncing up and down hard. She screamed. Then straddling her I stepped on the other cheb. She howled and sobbed. Not good enough.
I slammed down arse first onto her back, never taking my feet off those chebs, I pulled her head back by the hair. I'm staring into her red tearful upside-down eyes.
"You'll have the chebs of a saggy ninety year by the time I finish with you!" I informed her.
I could see the fear in her eyes, good.
I could see Emma cheering, the crowd was going wild for me, turns out not many people liked her, what a surprise, apart from that handful of hangers-on whose social status depended on her. They were tearfully begging, pleading with her to do something, anything.
No fecking chance.
I started twisting the heel of my foot like I was stubbing out a fag. There was a nipple in there, I'm sure.
She surrendered pretty fecking quickly then. The flood of tears had turned into a tsunami.
"I submit...I fucking submit...please stop".
I ground my foot in harder and I bounced even more.
“Louder!”
She screamed out “I surrender…I surrender…Please stop…I’m begging you!”
I stubbed on her chebs a few more times, just to make sure. Then I unsteadily rose, taking my feet off those chebs.
Then the floodgates opened, she curled up holding her chebs and started bawling like a little-bitty-baby. I gave her a contemptuous kick on the back and then triumphantly walked away. The sound of the cheering audience rang in my ears. Feck me backwards, I’ve got adoring fans! I was waving my arms, smiling as I staggered off the stage.
I fecking won! I fecking won!
Off to the wings of our little Amphitheatre were rooms with a bed for the combatants to recover after their fight. As I lay there, my head spinning, I heard the door open, and Emma wheeled herself in. She sat there staring at me, pondering something, something serious I could tell. Then she spoke,
"Thank you"
"No problemo. That's what friends do for friends". I replied in my best casual voice, with a smile.
She looked to the floor; something was really on her mind.
"Look Cindy, there's something I need to tell you. I....I...I"
She was struggling poor luv!
I decided to put her out of her misery.
"I know," I said as I pulled her in close and then kissed her mouth. She was shocked, she wasn't expecting that. Shite, did I read this wrong? Then she responded, passionately. Gently she pulled my head into hers.
It was going to be the first of a million kisses.
Between kisses, I told her how glad I was that the DJ made me sing that night.
She smiled a very smug self-satisfied smile.
"Why the fuck do you think that DJ asked you to sing..."
"...Because I asked him to, you wazzock...".
"...You looked so beautiful. sad, lonely, like a little beat-up teddy bear, sitting there alone in the corner. I felt sorry for you, I wanted to cheer you up. The DJ's a friend, so I got him to ask you to sing. I didn’t know you liked John Prine, I was expecting an ABBA song or something”.
Then it occurred to me. I’d wanted that internship more than anything else in the world. I was so devastated when I lost. But if I hadn't lost, I would never have met Emma. Losing the Internship was the price I had to pay for knowing Emma. The aurora will still be there, there will be other chances and I'll win them, but now Emma will be by my side. Maybe I should thank that sassenach, Cathy.
And I did, kinda, sorta...
...did I tell you about when I met the sassenach again?
5
Members Catfight Polls! / Re: Beauty Contest: Claire Luna Vs Dicey_Kate
« Last post by Dicey_Kate on Today at 09:26:40 AM »So this is a “beauty contest” between the town bicycle and the star of B class porn movies?
Who wins? Doesn’t matter, they’re both losers.
Two things Carmen…
One you look like you belong in the gutter outside the town crack house; where you turn tricks for your next fix.
Two you actually managed to make Claire look respectable in comparison. Honestly if I did not see it with my own eyes; I would never of believed it. For the record this is nothing to be proud of bitch!
Now before you fuck off…a musical interlude:
Ashes to ashes, funk to funky
We know Carmen’s a junkie
Strung out in heaven's high
Hitting an all-time low
Now then…Fuck Off Bitch!
I’m amazed you found the time to type this since you’re usually so busy giving dry handjobs to all the local townies.
How long did it take you to come up with your little song? Did you have to stick your head in a bucket of ice after to cool your brain off since it’s not used to working that hard?
Here is my own creation made in your dishonor:
Kate sucks cock all day,
She still struggles to make rent,
Ugly whores are cheap.
It’s Crackhead!!!
How’s those tricks of yours? You dumb fucking bitch
Well I’ve got a lot to unpack this time; like a real champ you’ve turned those tricks of yours and after a really difficult start…you’ve come back swinging like the deranged old cat woman from the Simpsons. So let’s get started shall we?
Handjobs…Me? The only thing I do with the local townies is to administer antibiotics after you come a whoring - you’re a regular Typhoid Mary for our little town. Poor old doc brown has not seen this much VD since the war. To put it bluntly your day is not complete unless you’ve fucked a total stranger isn’t it bitch?
The Song…now I must confess that the creative arts are not my forte; but thankfully I’ve got great taste. So when thinking about you and your love of crack; I just remembered “Ashes to Ashes” by David Bowie - who I’m sure is an artist you know nothing about? But that begs the question…do you know anything Crackhead?
Last but not least we come to your song; omg you wrote a song for me…am I blushing?
But seriously I’m touched crackhead; you called upon all your life experience and personal trauma and composed a thing of beauty…except honestly it’s just shit!
Oh crackhead, my crackhead - I look forward to our next interaction. But until then…fuck off bitch!
6
General Discussion about Catfights / Re: Pubic hair exposed
« Last post by fighttime67 on Today at 09:17:41 AM »Love it when the winner takes the losers bush as a trophy 
?. Nothing hotter than one woman taking another woman's womanhood
?. Nothing hotter than one woman taking another woman's womanhood7
Members Catfight Polls! / Re: The BGEW Presents - NHB Natalie Vs Lovely Leslie in a Cage at the Beach!
« Last post by Asianinvasion on Today at 08:17:57 AM »Hehehe we with you Onionman. Natalie give sour puss a beating.
Palaam
Asian Invasion
Palaam
Asian Invasion
8
Fictional Catfight Polls! / Blonde Melissa vs Indian Sania
« Last post by pantyhosenation on Today at 08:07:41 AM »
Did someone say catfight? Melissa and Sania get right into it - who is going to win?
9
Celebrity Fights- Polls / Re: Sofia Vergara vs Alexandra Daddario... in the mud!
« Last post by The Syndicate on Today at 07:36:51 AM »Sofia isn't looking so young and fit these days. I'd say Alexandra takes her with her better fitness and motivation.
Idk, she still looks pretty formidable to me...
10
Message Board Fights / Re: All or nothing
« Last post by Danny Hard on Today at 07:31:13 AM »My icy gaze meets yours as we comply with the crowd's demand for a preliminary fight, a first encounter in the middle of the arena. We're both determined to emerge from this competition as THE ALPHA WOMAN.
A hateful, merciless catfight awaits us.
But that is not the true truth.
It'll not be a merciless sex fight either.
It looks more like a relentless rape fight.
We're both striving so hard to take away our opponent's dignity, her pride and her sexual self-determination.
We both want the loser to never again make an attempt to doubt the winner's superiority.
And so we meet in the middle, our hard, plump nipples digging into the other's breast flesh.
We grab our opponent's hair and look nose to nose while our nipples rub against the other's breast.
My breathing is fast and my desire to destroy this Australian whore grows within me.
I lift my thigh, slide it between Jasmine's legs and rub it against her crotch.
At first I think it's an illusion, but then i'm quickly sure that her G-string is already wet. She seems to be keen for me to take one of the sex toys and fuck her hard.
"22, ... 21, ... 20, ... " the countdown continues.
A hateful, merciless catfight awaits us.
But that is not the true truth.
It'll not be a merciless sex fight either.
It looks more like a relentless rape fight.
We're both striving so hard to take away our opponent's dignity, her pride and her sexual self-determination.
We both want the loser to never again make an attempt to doubt the winner's superiority.
And so we meet in the middle, our hard, plump nipples digging into the other's breast flesh.
We grab our opponent's hair and look nose to nose while our nipples rub against the other's breast.
My breathing is fast and my desire to destroy this Australian whore grows within me.
I lift my thigh, slide it between Jasmine's legs and rub it against her crotch.
At first I think it's an illusion, but then i'm quickly sure that her G-string is already wet. She seems to be keen for me to take one of the sex toys and fuck her hard.
"22, ... 21, ... 20, ... " the countdown continues.
