Sidekick has always been one of my favorite catfight authors. He wrote so many great stories that are on various forums including this one. Most of his stories were about women that may have had a grudge or may not have, but they loved to fight and when they found a good rival, they couldn't get enough. I used to chat with him online every now and then. Great guy. Haven't seen him in a long time though so I hope he's doing well. As I was reading one of his stories, I thought it would be fun to see if I could continue where he left off as a tribute to such a talented writer. I don't have that talent myself, so I asked an AI program to continue the story in Sidekick's style. Below are the links to the two part of the existing story followed by the next chapter written by AI. Sidekick, if you're out there, I hope you enjoy it!
https://www.seakingsfemfight.com/stories/storysidekick12.htmlhttps://www.seakingsfemfight.com/stories/storysidekick13.htmlPart 3
The rest of the week dragged on like molasses for Natalie. Every hallway glance at Ellen Clarkson sent a fresh jolt through her body. Ellen was everything that made Natalie's pulse race: tallish like her, maybe an inch taller, with that long blonde hair that begged to be wrapped around a fist, a firm athletic build from whatever weekend yoga or gym routine she kept up, and those sharp green eyes that always seemed to carry a hint of challenge even when she was just saying good morning in the staff lounge. Natalie had caught her staring back a couple of times now—lingering looks during meetings, a raised eyebrow when their paths crossed in the copy room. It wasn't imagination. There was tension there, electric and unspoken, the kind that used to spark playground brawls back in her teen days.
By Friday afternoon, Natalie couldn't take it anymore. The daydreams had turned into full-blown fantasies: Ellen pinned beneath her on the break room floor, hair tangled in her fingers, breasts mashed together as they rolled and punched; Ellen's legs scissored around her waist in a desperate squeeze while Natalie drove knees into soft thighs; the two of them gasping, sweating, cursing each other until one submitted or knocked the other cold. She rubbed herself discreetly under her desk more than once that day, biting her lip to keep quiet while picturing Ellen's pretty face twisted in pain and rage.
She needed to make it happen. Carefully. No witnesses, no scandals that would cost her job. But the itch was unbearable.
After the final bell, Natalie lingered in her classroom, pretending to organize papers while keeping an eye on the hallway. Ellen's room was two doors down. Most teachers bolted on Fridays, but Ellen often stayed late grading or prepping—Natalie had noticed the pattern. Sure enough, around 4:30, the hallway emptied out, and Ellen emerged carrying a stack of folders, heading toward the parking lot exit.
Natalie stepped out casually, locking her door behind her. "Ellen, hey—wait up a second.
"Ellen turned, surprise flickering across her face before settling into that cool, appraising look. "Natalie. What's up?"
Natalie closed the distance, stopping just inside personal space. She let her eyes roam deliberately—down Ellen's fitted blouse, over the curve of her hips in the pencil skirt, back up to that blonde mane. "I've been thinking about you all week.
"Ellen arched a brow, shifting her weight. "Is that so?"
"Yeah." Natalie leaned in closer, voice dropping. "Ever since I bumped you in the cafeteria. You gave me this look—like you wanted to do something about it. I keep wondering what would happen if we... settled it.
"Ellen's lips parted slightly, then curved into a thin, dangerous smile. "You're serious."
"Dead serious." Natalie held her gaze, unflinching. "I think you feel it too. The tension. The need to see who's better. We could go somewhere private. My place isn't far. Or yours. Doesn't matter. Just you and me. No one else."
For a long moment, Ellen said nothing. Then she let out a soft laugh—not mocking, but excited. "You know, I've wondered about you. The way you stare. The way you carry yourself like you're looking for trouble." She stepped even closer, their breasts almost brushing. "I don't back down from trouble.
"Natalie's heart hammered. "Then prove it. Tonight. Eight o'clock. My apartment. Bring whatever attitude you've got. Because I'm bringing mine."
Ellen studied her for another beat, then nodded once. "Text me the address. And Natalie?" She leaned in until her lips were near Natalie's ear. "Don't hold back. I won't."
Natalie felt a rush of heat between her legs. "Wouldn't dream of it, bitch."
They parted without another word—Ellen heading to her car with a sway in her step that screamed confidence, Natalie practically vibrating as she walked to hers.
The hours until eight crawled by. Natalie showered, paced, changed into something simple but provocative: tight black shorts that hugged her ass and thighs, a thin tank top that left her midriff bare and her heavy breasts straining the fabric. No bra. No panties. She wanted nothing in the way when things got rough. She cleared the living room furniture to the edges, leaving a wide open space on the carpet—soft enough not to kill them, hard enough to feel every slam and roll.
At exactly eight, the doorbell rang.
Natalie opened it to find Ellen standing there in yoga pants and a loose crop top, hair tied back in a ponytail that screamed "easy to grab." No makeup, no pretense—just raw, ready energy. Their eyes locked, and the air crackled.
"No turning back," Ellen said quietly.
"Just you and me," Natalie replied, stepping aside to let her in.
The door clicked shut. They didn't waste time on small talk. They circled each other slowly in the cleared space, breathing deepening, eyes narrowing. Natalie felt the old thrill flood back—the butterflies, the wet ache, the pure animal need.
"You think you can take me?" Ellen taunted, voice low.
Natalie smirked. "I know I can. Come on, blondie. Show me what you've got."
They lunged at the same instant. Hands shot to hair—Natalie's fingers twisting deep into Ellen's ponytail, yanking her head back hard while Ellen grabbed two fistfuls of Natalie's dark locks and jerked viciously. They slammed together chest-to-chest, grunting as breasts crushed and mashed. Fists started flying almost immediately—short, sharp punches to ribs, sides, soft bellies. Natalie drove a hard right into Ellen's midsection, drawing a sharp "unnh!" Ellen answered with a vicious hook to Natalie's jaw that snapped her head sideways. They stumbled, pulling hair, trading blows. Natalie hooked a leg behind Ellen's and tripped her—both women crashing to the carpet in a snarling heap. Legs tangled instantly, bodies writhing as they rolled. Punches rained—Ellen slamming knuckles into Natalie's tit, making her yelp; Natalie raking nails down Ellen's back under the crop top, drawing red lines. They growled, cursed, spat insults.
"You fucking bitch!"
"Slut—I'll make you scream!"
Sweat slicked their skin quickly. Tops rode up, then got yanked off in the frenzy—bare breasts swinging free as they wrestled. Nipples hardened from the rough contact, scraping together painfully. Natalie got on top for a moment, straddling Ellen's waist, pinning her arms with her knees and unloading slaps to her face—crack, crack—until Ellen bucked wildly, bridged, and flipped them over.
Now Ellen was on top, grinding down, slamming forearms across Natalie's chest, then grabbing her tits and squeezing hard. Natalie howled, bucking up, wrapping legs around Ellen's waist in a body scissors and squeezing with all her strength. Ellen gasped, face contorting, but she leaned down and bit Natalie's shoulder—hard enough to mark.
They rolled again, over and over, carpet burning skin. Hair pulling turned savage—scalps screaming as they jerked heads back and forth. Knees drove into pussies, thighs, ribs. Breaths came in ragged pants, mingled with moans of pain and dark pleasure.
Natalie felt herself getting close—the friction, the domination, the sheer violence pushing her toward the edge. Ellen was too, grinding against her thigh even as she punched.
In a final tangle, Natalie got her arm around Ellen's neck in a choke, legs locked around her waist. Ellen clawed at the arm, gasping, but Natalie rolled them so she was behind, squeezing tighter. Ellen's struggles weakened, face reddening, hands slapping weakly.
"Give?" Natalie hissed in her ear.
Ellen rasped, "Fuck... you..."Natalie tightened. Ellen's body shuddered, then went limp—not out cold, but submitted, gasping.
Natalie released slowly, rolling Ellen onto her back. Both women lay panting, bruised, scratched, sweat-soaked. Natalie straddled her hips again, looking down with a satisfied grin.
"Not bad, Ellen. Not bad at all."
Ellen looked up, chest heaving, a faint smirk breaking through the exhaustion. "Next time... I win.
"Natalie laughed softly, leaning down until their lips almost touched. "Next time? Oh, there'll be a next time.
"And as their bodies pressed together again—not fighting now, but something just as heated—Natalie knew this was only the beginning. The hunger was back for good.
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