Milana Vayntrub is ready to make her move. She wants in on the Marvel franchise. She figures that she‘s got curves that are more than enough to displace Scarlett Johansson. Milana is just 3 years younger than the 41 year old. Both curvy women stand 5’3” tall.
Vayntrub’s all-out social media campaign works. The studio decides that the contest would be good for business. A fight is arranged, winner gets the next action role.
When they arrive at the designated gym the following week, the studio has drafted young and voluptuous Halle Bailey, the 27-year-old singer to act as referee. All three women step into the ring. All three gals wear revealing sports bras and tight shorts. Halle brings the two combatants together to go over some ground rules. There are none. But who has the best tits? Loser gets jugged out at the end of the match. Sounds good?
Halle looks from one to the other, sizing up the two older women. Milana is noticeably bustier than the well endowed ScarJo she decides, and meatier. Her hips are a bit wider, her butt a bit fuller. Scarlett appears toned, confident and ready for any challenge, but also a bit bored. She’s grown weary of every big-boobed wannabe thinking they can take her place.
As Bailey is about to finish speaking, she notices that Johansson is staring into her own prominently displayed and ample cleavage. Scarlett licks her lips. Milana takes note and smiles. She steps forward, hands on hips, chest thrust out. Milana’s full chest just touches Johansson’s smaller but nonetheless epic rack . Vayntrub smiles and pressing ahead, pushing her boobs forward and knocking Johansson back a step. ScarJo quickly leans in, hands behind her back. The chest-to-chest battle signals the start of their competition. Vayntrub puts her hands behind her back as she slams her boobs forward, flattening her well-endowed but over-matched opponent. Scarlett holds her own, pressing in. She’s a catfight veteran who knows all the moves. Four jugs swell together.
“Nice,” Halle laughs. “I guess the match has started.” She pulls out her phone to capture a picture.
Bailey watches mounds of tit flesh quiver, swell, flatten. Her eyes grow wide as she sees Milana take charge, slowly driving Scarlett back against the ring-ropes. Milana uses weight and rack advantage to press and pancake ScarJo’s tits. Johansson tries to work her way off the ropes, but her action-hero legs find the brunette immovable. Sarjo slips down and then quickly powers up to slam her chest up under Milan’s, but the blonde’s tits aren’t up to the task. Milana’s orbs simply ripple and absorb the hit. The brunette presses in again as she continues her dominance with tits that are beyond firm and decidedly unyielding. The blonde’s aching boobs are nearly forced out of her bra by Milan’s continual scrubbing. The brunette grins; blond scowls, then yelps. Vayntrub’s boobs punish, slam and pacake as the older gal finds herself out-gunned and relentlessly under siege.
Meanwhile, Halle makes mental notes, thinking that she might as well learn from experts.
Scarlett is teary-eyed and groaning with each new boob strike. Vayntrub snears as she puts her full weight forward to once again scrub her chest across ScarJo’s aching, overwhelmed boobs. The brunette takes a step back, about to launch another assault, but Scarlett drops to her knees, her arms crossed to protect and cradle here battered chest.
“Stop,” Johansson cries out.
“First fall to Milana,” Halle declares.
Scarlette sits on her stool holding an ice pack against her chest. Three minutes later, the contest resumes. Johansson has regained her composure.
"Think you can just waltz in here and take what's mine?" Johansson smirks, rolling her shoulders as she steps into the ring.
The gym lights catch the sheen of sweat along her collarbone, her sports bra straining slightly with each breath as her constrained, abused flesh chaffs uncomfortably. Vayntrub cracks her knuckles, pleased to see that the blonde’s boobs are clearly red and swollen. Milana takes a deliberate, obvious moment to take in the beauty of the damage she has already inflicted.
"Funny, I don’t see your name on the franchise after the beating I’m going to lay on you,” Milana jeers.
Vayntrub adjusts her own over-worked bra across her chest, the motion deliberately exaggerated, making sure Scarlett catches the way her superior, unbruised chest lifts and shimmers with the movement.
Scarlett wipes her forearm across her forehead, her breath coming quicker now. The initial shock of Milana’s dominance has worn off, replaced by something sharper—irritation, pride, the raw need to prove herself. She rolls her neck, the tendons standing out as she locked eyes with her opponent.
"Beginner’s luck," she mutters, flexing her fingers before pressing them flat against her thighs. “You’re nothing but an overweight two-bit commercial clown,” Johansson spits.
Halle, perched on the ring’s edge, swings her legs like a kid at a carnival. "Round two," she announces, tapping her phone screen to start a fresh timer. "Same no rules, but no mercy this time." Her gaze flick between them, lingering on the way Milana’s chest rises and falls, barely contained by her bra.
Milana attacks—no hesitation, no playful taunting—just the full force of her body slamming into Scarlett’s with a wet smack of sweat-slick skin. Their chests collided so hard the sound echoed off the gym walls, and for a split second, Scarlett’s feet actually lift off the mat before she catches herself, digging her heels in with a grunt.
Halle is wide-eyed. She hadn’t expected Milana to come in *this* hard—like she’d been saving up every ounce of frustration from every casting call she’d ever lost. Scarlett’s back arches as Milana’s weight bares down, their breasts mash into a quivering, indistinguishable mass of flesh. The older woman’s arms trembled, her biceps flexing as she tried to shove back, but Milana adjusts her stance, widening her legs to drop her center of gravity lower. She’s immovable.
“You’re a fat pig,” Scarlett hisses.
“You’re a has-been that needs to retire,” comes Vayntrub’s retort.
Scarlett's lips curled back in a snarl as she feels Milana's relentless pressure pushing her toward the ropes again. The blonde twists her torso suddenly, angling her shoulder into Milana's sternum. The brunette gasps, her momentum falters for just a second. Scarlett pivots on her left foot, swinging her hips to the side while driving her forearm across Milana’s chest as her left fist delivers a vicious uppercut that slams directly beneath Milana's chin. The impact sends Milana's head snapping back, her dark hair whipping across her flushed face.
Halle let out a startled laugh, fingers tightening around her phone. "Damn, ScarJo!" The singer's thighs pressed together involuntarily as she watched Scarlett capitalize on the opening, surging forward to grind her sweat-slicked chest against Milana's with renewed aggression. Their bras strain at the seams now, fabric twisting under the sheer force of their collisions. Milana is momentarily staggered, but doesn’t go down—instead, she hooks one foot behind Scarlett's ankle and thrusts her pelvis forward, smashing their lower bodies together with enough force to make Halle wince sympathetically from the sidelines.
Milana twists, using her full hips to roll Scarlett onto her back with a practiced motion. Scarlett’s breath comes out in a sharp huff as her shoulders hit the mat, her legs instinctively clamp around Milana’s waist in a last-ditch effort to destabilize her. But Milana has already shifted her weight, planting one knee between Scarlett’s thighs while her other leg braces against the mat for leverage. Their chests heaved together, slick with sweat, the heat between them almost palpable.
Scarlett bucks her hips upward, trying to dislodge the solid woman, but Milana smirks as she leans down, pressing her forehead against Scarlett’s as if sharing a secret.
"Still think it’s beginner’s luck?" she hisses, her voice low enough that only Scarlett could hear.
Then, without waiting for an answer, she drops her full weight onto Scarlett’s torso, her breasts flattening hard against Johansson’s weary tits with a wet slap that makes Halle bite her lip from the sidelines. Scarlett’s arms flail momentarily before Milana catches both wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head with surprising ease. Vayntrub’s fingers hook into the fabric of Scarlett’s sweat-soaked bra, and with a sharp tug, yanks her sports bra up and off. The blonde gasps as her chest springs loose, bouncing heavily against her ribcage.
Milana doesn’t hesitate—she shifts her hips back just enough to bounce once, twice, her own chest rising and falling with the motion before she slams back down, her full breasts smothering Scarlett’s bare ones flat. Scarlett’s head jerks side to side, her teeth grit against the overwhelming pressure. Milana laughs, triumphant. She arches her back, rolling her shoulders to slide and pull her own bra off.. A quick twist, and the fabric joins Scarlett’s on the mat between them.
Milana looms over Scarlett's pinned form, lifting her chest up and close to Johansson’s face.
“Take a close look at these jugs, you has-been,” Vayntrub chortles. “How easily I’ve flattened your worthless tits.”
Scarlett’s eyes grow wide. She trembles as she knows what’s coming, but
“Go fuck yourself,” is her only respons.
The fallen superhero's bare chest heaved beneath her, flushed pink from exertion and the relentless smothering pressure.
"Now you get a real close-up," Milana purrs, shimming forward with deliberate slowness.
Milana’s full breasts sway heavily, casting threatening shadows across Scarlett's face before oh so slowly descending like twin weights. Scarlett's muffled protest is cut short as her tormentor’s abundant flesh engulfs her features. Milana's hard nipples brush against her forehead, then her cheeks as Vayntrub plays with her captive. The brunette lifts her upper body up just a bit to glare directly in Scarlett’s eyes before lowering down hard--the sheer mass of her assets press Johansson’s head into the mat.
Halle's phone slipped slightly in her sweaty grip, the camera struggling to focus on the obscene sight of Scarlett's nose and lips disappearing between Milana's dangerous curves. The brunette adjusted her position, shifting her hips to grind downward, ensuring every inch of Scarlett's face was buried in suffocating cleavage. A wet, ragged inhale is the only sign Scarlett can breathe at all—her fingers scrabbled uselessly against Milana's solid thighs, her legs can only tremble, trapped beneath her foe's power.
Milana's fingers laced together behind Scarlett's skull, pulling her deeper into the suffocating embrace of her cleavage. The muscles in Milana's arms strain, every ounce of her strength focused on keeping Johansson's face buried between her breasts. Scarlett's muffled cries vibrate against Milana's sweat-slicked skin, her hands clawing at the brunette's body in frantic, uncoordinated swipes.
Halle leaned forward, her own chest tightening sympathetically as Scarlett's legs kick weakly, desperately. Milana simply adjusted her grip, locking her ankles around ScarJo's waist to eliminate any chance of escape. A wet, gagging sound escaped from between Milana's breasts—Scarlett's lips parted against heated flesh, her breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts whenever Milana shifts just enough to allow a sliver of air.
Milana abruptly released her grip, letting Scarlett's head loll back against the mat with a wet smack. The blonde gasps, her lips swollen and glistening from being pressed between sweat-slicked cleavage for so long. Before Scarlett can register the sudden rush of air, Milana's hands clamped around her wrists, hauling her upright with startling strength. Scarlett's legs wobble, her bare chest heaving—nipples stiff from both the fight's intensity and the cool gym air hitting her overheated skin.
"Come on, superstar," Milana taunts, her voice rough with exertion. “We need a big finale don’t you think?”
“Drop dead you cow,” Scarlett stammers out.
Without warning, she yanks Scarlett flush against her body, locking her arms around her torso in a crushing bear hug. Their breasts collide with enough force to send ripples through both sets of flesh, Milana's fuller curves swallowing ScarJo's smaller, abused and bruised frame in a relentless press. Scarlett's back arches involuntarily, her spine popping as Milana tightens her grip, grinding their chests together in slow, deliberate circles that drew a shuddering groan from the helpless blonde.
"Who owns your sorry tits now?" Who owns your sorry body? Milana growls into Scarlett's ear, her breath hot as she intensifies the crushing bear hug.
Their sweat-slicked skin made obscene, sliding noises with every movement, Scarlett's trapped arms twitch helplessly against Milana's ribcage. The blonde's face is contorted—part fury, part unwilling arousal—as Milana deliberately rolled her hips, grinding their lower bodies together in a way that made Halle drop her phone entirely with a clatter.
Scarlett's response comes out strangled, her throat bobbing against Milana's collarbone.
"Fuck—you—," the defiant but thoroughly beaten Johansson whispers.
Milana suddenly hoists her higher, lifting her helpless foe clean off the mat by pure upper body strength. Scarlett's legs dangle, her toes barely brushing the ground as Milana adjusted her grip, sliding one hand up to fist in platinum hair while the other clamped around the small of Scarlett's back.
"Let me ask you again," Milana growls, her fingers tightening in Scarlett's hair as she ragdolls her captive’s body. "Who owns your sorry flattened tits?"
Milana doesn’t wait for an answer. She jerks Scarlett forward abruptly, slamming their bare chests together with a wet smack. Scarlett cries out in pain-- her swollen tit-flesh in agony. The impact knocked the air from Scarlett's lungs, her back arching instinctively as Milana's full breasts engulfed hers, the brunette's nipples dragging stiffly across sweat-slick skin.
"That's what I thought," Milana purred, rolling her hips to grind their lower bodies together in a slow, merciless circle that draws a ragged whimper from Scarlett's throat.
Milana releases her grip just enough to let Scarlett's body slide downward, the older woman's bare skin leaving damp streaks against her own as gravity takes over. With a sudden twist, she shoves Scarlett backward—not hard enough to send her sprawling, but with enough force to make her stumble onto the mat on all fours. The blonde's shoulders rise and fell with labored breaths, her sweat-drenched hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. Milana didn't rush. She takes her time circling Scarlett, sizing up defeated foe, her bare feet padding against the mat with deliberate, taunting slowness.
Milana pauses directly behind Scarlett, her shadow falling across the beaten woman's heaving back. Vayntrub moves, hands clamping around ScarJo's hips as she swings one leg over the blonde's shoulders. Scarlett barely had time to lift her head before Milana dropped backward, her full weight descending in a merciless reverse facesit that trap Scarlett's nose and mouth under her full butt. Milana beacons Halle to come in close so that her phone can capturee the brutal action. Vayntrub starts to tug, pinch, slap and torment the trapped woman’s boobs.
Milana finally stands, her thighs and ass slick with Scarlett’s panicked saliva as she hauls the blonde up by her tangled locks. Scarlett’s chest heaves, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes unfocused from the suffocating facesit.
"Time for the grand finale," Milana announces, as she drags poor Scarlett toward the gym’s entrance. Scarlett stumbles, her bare feet scraping against the rubber mat before hitting the cold tile of the front room. The glass windows lining the sidewalk offered a full view—commuters slowing, phones rising—as Milana slams Scarlett against the wall with enough force to rattle the framed fitness awards hanging nearby.
Halle trots after them, her phone now recording horizontally. "Oh shit," she breathes, watching Milana’s fingers tighten in Scarlett’s hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. The brunette’s free hand didn’t hesitate—she drew back and swung forward in a brutal arc, her palm smacking flat against Scarlett’s left breast with a wet crack that echoed off the mirrors. Scarlett’s gasp turned into a choked scream as her tit jiggled violently, the flesh wobbling long after the impact. Milana adjusted her grip, fingers digging into Scarlett’s scalp as she delivered an identical blow to the right, this time twisting her wrist at the last second to grind her palm against the stiff nipple. Left, right, left, right again. Tears stream down Johansson’s face. She can offer no resistance.
“I think she’s finished. Maybe you should stop,” Halle offers.
Scarlett's chest rises and falls in frantic little hitches, her bare skin mottled with the angry red imprint of Milana's palm still lingering across each swollen breast. Tears streak down her flushed cheek, cutting through the sweat that slicked her face.
“You are finished, you pathetic piece of yesterday’s news. Who jugs crushed your jugs?” Milana demands. “Say it!”
Johanson limply shakes her head… Milana leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Scarlett's ear.
"Not ready to answer," she pronounces, her free hand sliding down to cup one throbbing breast with mock tenderness before suddenly squeezing—hard enough to make Scarlett's knees buckle.
The blonde's cry dissolve into a wet sobbing as Milana kneads the abused flesh, her thumb circling the stiffened nipple with deliberate cruelty.
"Look at them," she taunts, shifting her grip to lift Scarlett's tit like an offering to the crowd gathering outside. The swollen orb jiggles in her palm, the areola bruised and darkened from rough treatment. "These used to be Marvel's golden girls. Now they're just my personal stress balls."
Milana lets Johansson fall to the floor.
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