11

Celebrity Fights- Stories / Hunter King fights Natalie Alyn Lind Pt2

« Last post by southgate on Yesterday at 05:26:41 PM »

Natalie works her legs free and finally gets her scissors. Hunter's left fist again tags Natalie in the side of her face. She tries to pull backwards, to slip free. She is nearly clear, but Natalie manages to clamp her legs shut around her neck. One of her arms is also caught in Natalie's strong thighs, taking some of the pressure of her neck.

"Shit," wails King. Natalie smiles, still lying on her back.

Her left hand grasps Hunter's hair, holding her head securely in place. Natalie's right hand takes target practice on Hunter's head slapping her repeatedly, as King, on her knees, tries to cover up.

"You're not so tough, are you bitch," shouts Natalie, emphasizing each word with a palm to Hunter's head. With rapid-fire slaps to Hunter's face, she continues, "Now, you're packin' up and moving out, or they'll haul you away in a body bag."

While Hunter deflects some of the blows with her trapped arm, her cheeks are aching and bruised. Natalie stops to switch hands, twisting her right hand in Hunter's hair. Her left fist resumes punishing the right side of Hunter's face. Natalie takes her time, her hand stops just long enough for her legs to squeeze tight around Hunter's neck. King finally tries to mount some offense, raking the fingernails of her free hand down the back of Natalie's thigh. Natalie curses, she concentrates pressure with her formidable thighs.

"Stop! Please stop," begs Hunter.

King tries desperately to break free. Hunter's leg muscles strain as she pushes forward, but Natalie clamps harder.

"Stop! Please stop," begs Hunter.



King tries desperately to break free. Hunter's leg muscles strain as she pushes forward, but Natalie clamps her thighs tighter still. Her thighs push hard against King as she wins back any lost ground.  Suddenly, King surges forward, shoving her left shoulder forward, prying Alyn Lind's legs open just a bit. King slams her elbow across Natalie's boobs. She moves atop Lind. Her hands locked solidly around Nat’s nose and mouth.

"Aggh," screams Alyn Lind. With two hands, she yanks Hunter's head down into her belly. King shoves her left hand forward and sinks her fingers into Natalie's right tit. Hunter grabs her Natalie's exposed nipple, twists violently in an all out attempt to free herself. Hunter pushes forward.   Up on her knees, she has a wailing Natalie bent in half. Natalie's butt lifts up off the sand as Hunter presses forward.

Hunter's right hand digs into Natalie's firm ass. Yelping, Natalie stops punching, wraps two hands in Natalie's hair, squeezes her legs tight. Frozen for a moment, Natalie powers Hunter off her knees and onto her side. King manages to keep rolling and ends up on her back. Natalie straddles her chest, but has lost her scissors. Hunter tries to buck and twist free, rolling again to her side, but she can't dislodge her tormentor. Alyn Lind's left hand yanks Hunter's head up, pressing it into her crotch. Looking backwards, Natalie's right fist pumps down fast and hard into Hunter's belly.



"Not too flabby for an old bitch, let's see what you can take," taunts Natalie as her fist pummels Hunter's gut repeatedly.

With each 'thud' Hunter moans loudly as her stomach muscles cramp. Natalie rolls Hunter onto her belly. Sitting high on her back, Natalie yanks up on Hunter's neck, yanking it up.

"Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes, please stop. I'll go right now," wails Hunter.

"Okay, I'll stop really soon," taunts Natalie.

Her right fist goes back to work, slamming first into Hunter's gut, then into her boobs. For the next minute, Natalie works with a calm, malicious rhythm.

Confident that she has beaten all resistance out of King, Natalie stops, stands up and hauls a shaky King to her feet. Alyn Lind marches her captive up the beach to the cottage. As they enter, Natalie shoves Hunter into the room.

"Pack up and clear out. The cover is mine," Natalie states triumphantly.

Natalie shakes her aching right arm. "King is a strong bitch," she thinks, "but no match for me."

Walking slowly across the room, Hunter grabs her suitcase and opens it on the couch. She walks slowly over to the dresser and picks up her hairbrush and hair dryer.

"Hurry up," Natalie commands impatiently. As Hunter moves in front of Natalie heading back to the couch, she spins and crashes the hairdryer into Natalie's head. Lind clutches her head, woozy, her feet unsteady. Hunter lunges at her, grabbing her by the hair. King drives Natalie's head against the wood paneled wall. Driving her knee into Alyn Lind's gut, Hunter throws the stunned brunette to the floor. Hunter drops with both knees landing squarely in Natalie's belly. King jams her left knee repeatedly into Natalie's gut. Natalie fights to recover her breath.



Hunter moves quickly to slam her knee into Natalie's crotch. The force of the hit stuns the younger with shooting pain. Hunter hair-hauls Natalie to her feet and throws her against the wall. King shoves her tits forward into her foe’s plenty big but not as big s boobs.

“You’re out-gunned, you nasty bitch, and you’re no match for me! Hunter hisses.

King slams a knee into her foe’s belly and forces her to knees



A knee lift catches Lind in the head. King yanks Natalie to her feet and shoves her back against the wall again. She slams a fist into Natalie's left tit. Natalie's face turns white with agony as her breast is crushed into her ribcage. Hunter slams Natalie's head back into the wall and lets her slide down onto her butt. Holding Natalie's hair, King presses` her knee into Nat’s chest,  grinding it in. Hauling Natalie to her feet, Hunter lets fly a stinging slap across Natalie's face. A backhand, another slap and a backhand redden Natalie's cheeks.

But as she admires her handy work, a fist comes up from nowhere and slams into Hunter's crotch. Natalie worms her hand inside Hunter's shorts, grabs a handful of Hunter's bush and twists. With an outraged yowl, Hunter reaches down and grasps her antagonist's hand, but she is unable to pull Natalie off. Lind wraps her free arm tightly around the back of her victim's neck and pulls her in close. Hunter screams in utter agony. "Let me go," she screams as Natalie yanks and tugs at her bush. Natalie twists Hunter around the room.



King suddenly thunderclaps Natalie’s ears.  She wraps her arms around Natalie's waist and squeezes. Natalie grunts. King is so strong. Natalie lets go of Hunter's thinned bush and twists with both hands around her neck. King starts to gag. Natalie throws her backward against the wall. She slams her knee up into Hunter's crotch. Hunter falls to her knees, her crotch throbbing. Natalie hair-hauls Hunter to her feet and shoves her backwards into the wall, hissing "pay back time."

She rips off Robert's jogging bra and grabs Hunter's tits. King has plenty of fight left in her. She digs her fingers into Natalie's tits. Natalie needs to protect her right tit, already scratched raw from the fight on the beach. Natalie tries to inflict as much pain as she can, but Hunter's strong hands are crushing her boobs. The momentum shifts. Hunter spins Natalie around shoving her up against the wall while she mauls her tits. King seems impervious to Natalie's clawing fingers. Suddenly, Hunter slams her head forward, into Natalie's forehead. Seeing stars, Lind falls forward, into Hunter's arms.

Hunter throws her back into the wall. Grabbing Natalie' long hair with her left hand, Hunter bangs a series of rights into Natalie's belly and boobs. Hunter is in a rage, Adrenaline pumping, she pounds Alyn Lind nearly senseless.

"You're mine, bitch," shouts Hunter.

She takes the slumping Natalie in her arms, lifting her off her feet into a crushing, bruised boob mashing bear hug. King lifts Natalie high off the floor, griding their tits together as she bounces  Lind around like a rag doll. Then, lowering Natalie to the floor, Hunter bends her backward, bearing down on her heavily, Natalie, unable to draw a breath, her back near breaking, passes out.

Just then, the photographer walks in. He walks over, looks down at the wreckage on the floor and says, "I can't use her, this won't do at all."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her," laughs Hunter. "I think she finally agrees with me."

12

Celebrity Fights- Stories / Hunter King fights Natalie Alyn Lind pt1

« Last post by southgate on Yesterday at 05:23:35 PM »

After the initial photo shoot for a nation wide commercial, Natalie Alyn Lind received a phone call inviting her back for an additional session. She and Hunter King were in contention for the cover and lead layout. Natalie arrives at the designated beachfront location early in the afternoon. The session is to begin at the crack of dawn. Alyn Lind is confident that she will be chosen over the older King. She kind of resents that this photographer thinks there is a choice to be made. After all, Hunter had been relegated to soap operas for ever, while Natalie has worked consistently getting parts in all kinds of TV shows.

It is a sweltering hot afternoon. Natalie enters the beach cottage, strips off her traveling clothes. Changing into a pair of jogging shorts, Natalie slips a cut-off tee shirt over her unfettered boobs and goes out to explore the secluded private beach. Natalie walks to the water's edge, peels off her tee shirt to sun herself. Letting the waves break over her legs, she watches a solitary jogger off in the distance steadily advancing towards her. It appears to be a woman running through the surf. As the jogger draws closer, Natalie watches the runner's chest bounce heavily in rhythm with her pace... there's a lot of bounce... it's a formidable chest.

Natalie recognizes the runner. It's King. "Damn it, she's here already," curses Natalie.

Hot and tired from her run, Hunter, too, recognizes the gal she sees waiting on the beach. Hunter wears black jogging shorts, a white sports bra soaked with perspiration and a sweatband around her head. She is breathing hard from her run.

"Well I see you decided to try and get in shape. It's a little late for that, isn't it," sneers Natalie.

"I run every day. You'd lose some weight if you'd try it" snaps Hunter.

"You wouldn't last 15 minutes in my gym," spits Natalie, "the way you reek, they'd throw you out."

"Okay, we won't be best friends. Just stay out of my face," Hunter retorts.

Natalie steps forward and grabs King by the wrist.

"Save yourself some trouble and go home. You're not going to get the shoot—you’re a nobody, just a saggy boobed blonde bimbo.

Hunter pulls her arm free and slaps Natalie across the face. Alyn Lind rubs her face and smiles.

"Good, let's settle this right now."

Natalie's left hand lashes out and slaps the side of Hunter's face. Hunter grabs Natalie's hair close to the scalp, pulling at it hard enough to bring tears to Natalie's eyes. Hunter drags Natalie backward, extends her leg to trip her. As Natalie's feet fall out from under her, King hurls Natalie down hard, slamming her head into the sand. Hunter quickly drops her knee down on Alyn Lind's chest, just below her collar bone. As Nat’s body convulses, Hunter twists her hair to roll Natalie onto her belly. Hunter twice drives her knees into Natalie's belly Straddling her back, Hunter quickly hammerlocks Natalie's right arm. Holding Alyn Lind's hair with her left, she yanks Natalie's head up and back.

"Get off of me you fat cow," crackles Alyn Lind.

Hunter yanks harder on Natalie's hair and pushes up on the hammerlock, intent on damage Natalie's arm. Alyn Lind screams wildly, kicks her feet in the sand desperately. Ignoring Natalie's howling, Hunter leans her head close to Natalie's.

"Now if you shut your mouth and promise to go home, I may not break your arm and rip out all your hair. Got it?" sneers Hunter.

"Yes, yes, just get off of me," begs Natalie.

"I'll just help you pack," hisses King.

Standing, she hauls Natalie to her feet, holding the hammerlock. Alyn Lind struggles unsuccessfully for half a minute, but the hold is expertly applied. Hunter sets her legs wide, slips her free hand around Natalie's neck and pulls up on her twisted arm.

"Aagghh...I'll kill you," screams an agonized Natalie.

"Give it a rest, you're packing up right now," commands Hunter.

Alyn Lind slams her elbow back into Hunter's belly. King grunts but maintains control of her foe. She pumps her fist pumps repeatedly Natalie's lower back. Alyn Lind's legs wobble.

King uses her hammerlock to march the younger woman towards the beach house. Alyn Lind walks forward slowly a half dozen steps on apparently unsteady legs, then spins around suddenly, breaking free. As she spins, Natalie elbows Hunter in the face. King grabs Natalie around the neck. Natalie does the same. Spinning around in awkward circles in the sand, each woman tries to shove her hip into her adversary. Natalie is finally able to hip toss King to the sand and lands heavily on top of her, still clutching her around the neck. Hunter tries to twist her body free, makes it to her side. Natalie straddling her, tries to lock her legs into a waist scissors. But King shoves off the sand and rolls over, on top of Natalie. She slams the palm of her right hand down into Natalie's right tit. Alyn Lind's legs spring open momentarily, allowing King to shift her right leg outside of Natalie's bent left leg, blocking her scissors attempt. Alyn Lind, on her back, holds Hunter's hair with her right hand while her left fist smacks into the older woman's head and side. King pushes up to her knees, pressing her head down into Alyn Lind's chest. Her left fist plows into the right side of Natalie's face. Alyn Lind, her lip puffy and bloodied, seizes Hunter's hair with both hand and yanks her head down.

-continues-

13

Celebrity Fights- Stories / Natalie Alyn Lind has had enough of Sydney Sweeney

« Last post by southgate on Yesterday at 05:07:43 PM »

Natalie Alyn Lind is furious that Sydney Sweeney-- just two years older, gets all the press and all the parts while Nat is left with bit-parts for young blondes.

“My body is hotter than that skank. All she does is show her tits and the freakin’ world goes crazy,” Lind fumes.

Natalie had her folks contact Syd’s people to set up a charity match. Guaranteed big draw, lot’s of money raised, why not?  It’s on, and a sell-out.

That day, Natalie stands in the ring. She turns towards the ropes to sign autographs for some of her fans while waiting for Sweeney to make her entrance.  There’s sudden commotion and a roar from the crowd as Sydney charges to the ring. She vaults ropes and attacks, catching Natalie off-guard. She plows into the taller woman’s back and drives her half way through the ropes. Alyn Lind fans scatter as Sydney leers at them, holding Natalie unceremoniously bent in over the middle rope. Sweeney grabs the rear of Lind’s thong and yanks it up, then slaps her hand across Natalie's abundant cheeks.

Lind, you fat ass, I'm gonna kick the crap out of you and smother you with my perfect tits," Sydney jeers as she reddens Natalie's ass.

As Lind struggles to kick free. Sweeney rips off her foe’s bikini top and tosses it to her hooting fans.

“If you’re gonna tease with these things, show ‘em!” Sweeney laughs.

Sydney yanks up on Alyn Lind's thong 'till it nearly disappears from view, then throws Natalie through the ropes and out of the ring.  Sweeney parades around the ring, laughing and hooting.

Cursing, her face as red as her ass, Natalie gets up and climbs back into the ring. A mere formality at this point, the bell rings.

 The women lunge for each other. Two voluptuous bodies slap together. Sydney grabs Natalie's left wrist as Natalie takes a handful of Sydney's hair and jerks her head back. Sweeney's knee shoots up into Natalie's belly, unsettling Nat’s stance. Before she can regain her footing, Sydney thrusts her chest forward, slamming it into Natalie. Big boobs mash together. Natalie trips backwards, lands on her ass and elbows. Sydney leaps. As she attempts to splash down on top of her foe, Natalie pulls up her knees and her left forearm up. Syd gut lands hard on Nat’s knees. Lind drives her elbow across Sydney’s jaw.  Winded, Sweeney lies on the mat beside the younger blonde.



Alyn Lind rolls away and scrambles to her feet. Sydney stands, holding her chin.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch!” Sweeney hisses as Lind’s hand motions her to come forward.

Sweeney flashes Natalie the bird and charges. Natalie plants herself on sturdy thighs and braces for impact. Natalie stands her ground, her bigger body absorbing the impact of Syd’s assault, as Sydney has mis-calculated. Natalie quickly wraps her arms around Sweeney in a boob-mashing bearhug. She hoists her up to her toes, then off her feet. Sweeney grunts, eyes wide as she can barely breath. Lind snarls as she tosses Sydney’s body from side to side, pancaking both sets of astounding boobs as she squeezing the daylights out of her foe. Moaning and red-faced, Sydney desperately manages to yank her arms free. The wilily older blonde ear-claps her tormentor, then grabs a handful of Nat’s hair and slams her left palm up into her chin. Lind is jolted. Sydney twists free. As her feet hit the mat, Sydney slams her left fist into Natalie’s right tit and follows with a knee deep into Lind’s belly.

Sydney backs away panting hard. She squats down, hands on her quivering thighs.

Natalie steps back, cursing.

“I had you.! I’m too strong for you and you know it, you beanpole with tits,” Natalie spits. “I’m going to crush you flat and take all our fans,” Lind continues.

Natalie advances. Her right foot lashes out but Sydney steps to the side and blocks it.  Sydney propels herself forward to slam her elbow across Natalie's chest.  Offended more than hurt, Natalie nonetheless catches Syd once again and hoists her up into another bearhug.

“You don’t learn, do you! Natalie chortls.

“Bitch!” Sydney howls.

“Loser!” Natalie retorts, “I own your skank ass.”

Natalie quickly hoists Sydney up and walks her the nearest corner turnbuckle. She lets Sweeney down, bends to drive her shoulder into her foe’s chest, ramming  her repeatedly.

Sweeney is in trouble. Natalie rips at Sweeney's bikini top.

“You know, they’re not that big, you skinny bitch,” Lind shouts.

She slams her elbow across Syd’s chest, then knees here in the crotch. Natalie spins Sydney around, delivers three kidney punches, then, returning the outrage inflicted on here earlier, pulls up hard on Sweeney’s thong with both hands, lifting the smaller woman up off her feet as she jams her foe hard into the turnbuckle.



Natalie smiles as she wraps one arm around Sydney’s neck, all the while jerking up on her thong. Natalie parades a teary, gagging Sydney around the ring as the crowd cheers and jeers for their favorite fighter.

“I’m so done with you, you wimp. It’s time to end this,” Lind jeers.

Lind releases her foe, spins her around and hoists her up, as Natalie demonstrates the power she has honed in her daily workouts. Smiling she crashes Natlie down across her left knee and holds the beaten blonde in place. Sweeney lays sprawled out and exposed. Natalie locks her hands together and slams an axe handle down on her foe’s belly.   Lind shoves her foe to the mat.

Natalie walks around her prone and defeated foe. She drags Sydney to the corner by her hair and props her up. Natalie grabs Sweeney by the head and forces her face into her boobs. Holding tight, Nat rides out Sydney’s weak struggles as she thoroughly jugs out her foe.

“Any time you want a rematch, just let me know, Natalie laughs as she released her foe and let’s poor dreaming Sydney slip down to her butt.

14

Producer Announcements / DWW July 2025 Update - 12 videos added to DWW.AT !! 3.229 total videos

« Last post by DWW on Yesterday at 04:54:34 PM »

Hello wrestling fans!

Do not miss DWW July 1st 2025 update !

We have added 12 videos to DWW website with hard competitive action !!!

This includes matches from DWW-001, the very first wrestling matches ever published by DWW: the beginning a production legacy spanning multiple decades!
Also includes Luzia first topless matches for her 18th birthday party vs Edita and Barbara.

Then we added some topless wrestling, two mixed wrestling matches and updated some older videos in higher quality.
These videos are in higher quality than previously released.

Enjoy these fights with Luzia, Barbara, Edita, Eva Sch, Manuela, Ilse, Renata B, Petra, etc…

https://www.dww.at/catfight/list/video/recently-added/

The total of available videos is 3.229, and more will come…

And do not miss the 8 more matches we added today to our sister site TribGirls.com

15

Producer Announcements / TRIBGIRLS July Update - 8 videos added to TribGirls.com

« Last post by DWW on Yesterday at 04:50:45 PM »

Hello TRIB fans,

Do not miss TribGirls July 1st 2025 update !

We have added 8 videos to TRIBGIRLS website !!!
with Jana W, Eva N, Mel, Vladka, Nikita, Andy, Nina, Kendra, Sunny, etc…

All freshly remastered from our collection.
Enjoy our world famous sex fights, intimate crotch to crotch tribbing and some more aggressive confrontations with our beautiful models !

https://www.tribgirls.com/trib/list/video/recently-added/

The total of available videos is now 270 !

16

Catfighting / Re: STORY: The Bitch Fight

« Last post by Sonic-bb on Yesterday at 03:36:02 PM »

I really love this story, excellent

17

Catfighting / Gym Teachers Part 4

« Last post by AIWriter on Yesterday at 03:17:46 PM »

Diane lay facedown on the canvas, her body glistening with sweat, flushed from pain, and now fully naked. Her arms were splayed out to her sides, her legs limp and parted, her bare back rising and falling with every shallow breath. Her blonde hair was plastered across her flushed cheeks, streaked with spit and defeat. She didn’t try to move. She couldn’t. Not yet.
Lisa stood over her, breathing steadily, her sports bra and shorts still perfectly in place. Not even a strap out of line. Her skin shimmered with effort, but there was no sign of wear. No bruises. No fatigue. Only power. And patience.

She circled Diane slowly, watching her rival struggle to even lift her head. “You’re not looking so cocky now,” Lisa said quietly, her voice more amused than angry. “You were talking a lot of shit online. What happened to all that big talk?”

No response. Just a low groan.
Lisa crouched near Diane’s hips, one hand lazily resting on her thigh. “Look at you,” she purred, letting her palm slide up Diane’s slick skin, from thigh to the soft curve of her bare ass. “Not a thread left on that proud little body.”

Diane tensed, but she didn’t move.
Lisa’s hand gave a playful slap to Diane’s right cheek, not hard—just enough to make it jiggle and turn a shade redder. “You should be embarrassed. Two falls. Zero clothes. And you’ve barely touched me.”
She leaned down, her lips near Diane’s ear. “You were supposed to be a challenge.”
Diane flinched at that. Her pride stirred—but her body betrayed her. Her nipples were hard from the air and adrenaline. Her hips shifted weakly, involuntarily, at Lisa’s touch.
Lisa noticed. She always noticed.
“Are you getting turned on, Diane?” Lisa whispered, a smirk curling on her lips. “Getting wet from being owned?”
Diane clenched her jaw, but she couldn’t stop the warmth spreading between her legs—or the quiet gasp that escaped her throat when Lisa’s fingers brushed down, over the small of her back, teasing the crack of her ass without pressing too far.
Lisa stood again, drawing it out, dragging the moment across Diane’s skin like fingernails.
She walked to the corner, grabbed her water bottle, and took a slow sip. She didn’t look rushed. Didn’t look worried. She wasn’t. She turned back toward Diane, who was now barely propped on one elbow, trying to push herself up.
Lisa crossed the ring again and knelt beside her, running a hand through Diane’s damp, matted hair. “You still think you can win?” she asked softly. “Still think you’re going to turn this around?”
Diane’s jaw trembled.
Lisa suddenly grabbed her hair hard, yanking her head up. “Answer me.”
Diane let out a hoarse gasp but managed to grit out, “You haven’t won... not yet.”
Lisa smiled—genuinely. "That's the spirit."

She let go and stood, backing toward the center of the ring.

“Then let’s finish this,” she said, arms spreading slightly, daring Diane to get up. “Third fall. One of us ends on her back.”
Diane groaned and forced her knees under her, unsteady, her arms shaking. She rose slowly, sweat dripping from every inch of her naked, aching body. Across from her, Lisa stood tall, dominant, untouched.
And smiling.
Because now, it wasn’t just a fight anymore—it was punishment. And Lisa intended to make this last one count.
________________________________________

Diane’s legs trembled as she rose to her feet, bare soles slipping slightly on the slick canvas. Her arms hung loose at her sides, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Sweat trickled down her spine, between the aching swell of her bare breasts, past the bruises mottling her ribs. She was naked, humiliated, aching—and yet somehow still upright.
Her eyes locked on Lisa, who stood a few feet away, poised and composed. Clothed. Smirking. The contrast between them couldn’t be clearer: predator and prey. Dominant and dominated. Fully dressed and fully exposed.

Diane’s fists curled weakly at her sides.
She’d never felt so vulnerable. So stripped. Not just of her clothes, but of the armor she’d carried into this fight—her pride, her confidence, her control. Lisa had peeled it all away, hold by brutal hold, fall by punishing fall.
And yet… Diane wasn’t done.

Her mind raced—fractured thoughts skittering through the fog of pain and humiliation.
You’ve already lost two. You’ve been stripped naked in front of her. She’s not even sweating.
But you’re still standing.
You tapped out—but you didn’t break.
A flicker of anger stirred behind her exhaustion. Not at Lisa. At herself. For letting this happen. For giving Lisa the satisfaction of two clean submissions. For letting her laugh. For savoring it.
The memory of Lisa’s fingers hooked in her mouth, wrenching her into a screaming submission, burned like acid. Diane’s face still throbbed from the stretch. Her back still screamed from the camel clutch. And her pride... her pride was a bruised, raw nerve.
But there was still the next round.

And Diane had come into this match for a reason—not just to fight, but to prove something. That she wasn’t past her prime. That she could still dominate. That no woman, not even one as hardened as Lisa Marshall, could take that from her.
She took a breath. It caught in her ribs. She took another—deeper this time. Then lifted her head.
Lisa was waiting. Arms crossed. Smirking like she already owned the end.
Diane straightened, chest rising defiantly despite the burn it caused. Her body screamed, but her legs held. Her eyes, rimmed with sweat and fatigue, narrowed.
No. Not yet.
She took one slow step forward. Then another.
She saw Lisa’s eyebrows twitch in surprise. Just a flicker—but enough to feed the fire inside Diane’s battered frame.
You want me broken? You’re going to have to rip it out of me.
The tension in the room thickened as the two women began to circle each other again. There was no referee. No bell. Just silence, the low hum of overhead lights, and the heavy sound of two exhausted fighters breathing hard.

Diane’s bare feet slid across the canvas, sticky with sweat. Her naked body gleamed, every inch of it exposed—raw, bruised, flushed with effort and shame. The sting of her losses still lingered in her spine, her jaw, her pride. But her eyes… they still burned.

Lisa, in stark contrast, moved like a panther—cool, composed, and coiled with confidence. Her black sports bra clung tight to her heaving chest. Her compression shorts hugged her thighs. The only signs of exertion were the sheen of sweat and the wildness flickering behind her green eyes.
Lisa struck first.
She lunged low, hands out, aiming for Diane’s hips. But Diane twisted, catching Lisa’s forearms and yanking her forward. Their bodies collided, skin against fabric, slick limbs entangling. For a moment, they grappled chest to chest—Lisa’s clothed body pressing into Diane’s sweat-slick skin.
Diane managed to slip behind her, hooking an arm under Lisa’s chin and pulling her into a tight rear naked choke—not a clean MMA lock, but a cruel, grinding squeeze that wrenched Lisa’s head back hard.
Lisa grunted, her hands immediately flying to Diane’s arm, but Diane locked her ankles around Lisa’s waist, her thighs flexing tight, dragging Lisa down to the mat. The blonde wrapped herself around Lisa’s back like a vice, her arms and legs entwining like roots.
"You like control so much?" Diane hissed, sweat dripping from her temple. "Let’s see how you like this."

Lisa gagged slightly, her head bent at a painful angle. Diane’s biceps, still strong despite her battered state, pressed deep into Lisa’s throat and jaw. The naked blonde squeezed tighter, her bare breasts flush against Lisa’s back, her thighs digging cruelly into Lisa’s sides.

Lisa twisted, arched—tried to shift her hips—but Diane shifted with her, adjusting her grip and wrenching her head further back. Lisa’s face contorted, one hand prying at the choke, the other clawing at Diane’s thigh, nails digging in.
"You’re going to tap like a good girl," Diane growled. "Strip for me while you do it."
Lisa’s only answer was a snarl—a sudden burst of force as she smashed her elbow back, slamming it into Diane’s ribs once—twice—three times. Diane groaned, her grip faltering just enough for Lisa to twist violently, rolling them both across the mat.
They tumbled, a tangled knot of limbs, until Lisa came out on top—straddling Diane’s hips.
Still gasping, Lisa drove a forearm into Diane’s face, pinning her cheek to the mat. She let it grind there, slowly, painfully, smearing Diane’s sweat across the canvas as the blonde squirmed beneath her.
"You think you’re in control just because you had me for ten seconds?" Lisa spat. "That was a mistake."
Then she sat up, hooked Diane’s legs under her arms, and bent her in half with a brutal Boston crab.

Diane screamed—her spine folding, her ass lifting off the mat, her chest pressing to the floor. Lisa sat deep, her glutes almost resting on Diane’s lower back as she leaned back farther, arching her like a drawn bow.

"You want pain?" Lisa hissed. "You’ll get pain."

Diane’s fingernails clawed the mat, her voice ragged, her legs trembling in Lisa’s grasp. Her naked body was stretched wide, fully exposed, her cries echoing in the empty gym as Lisa dug her heels in and sat even deeper.
"You scream so pretty when you suffer," Lisa purred.
But Diane didn’t tap. Her hands pounded the mat in agony, yes—but not in surrender. She grit her teeth, twisted one arm behind her, and—desperately—managed to grab hold of Lisa’s ankle. A moment later, she bit down, hard.
Lisa shrieked in surprise, her grip slipping just enough for Diane to twist one leg free and roll violently, knocking Lisa forward.
They broke apart, both gasping. Lisa’s ankle throbbed. Diane’s back was on fire.
They crawled toward opposite corners of the mat, sweat dripping from their faces, chests heaving.
Then Lisa surged again—diving toward Diane—but the blonde had recovered enough to meet her with a sudden upward thrust of her legs, catching Lisa’s head between her thighs. She twisted hard, slamming Lisa to the mat in a vicious scissors takedown.
Lisa hit hard, stunned—and before she could recover, Diane had rolled over her, mounting her head in a full reverse facesit.
"You want humiliation?" Diane hissed, settling her naked ass down over Lisa’s mouth and nose, grinding down. "Let’s see how you like being smothered."
Lisa thrashed beneath her, her hands gripping Diane’s thighs, her legs kicking against the mat. Diane leaned forward, planting her palms on Lisa’s abs for balance, using the leverage to grind harder—slow, grinding circles, smothering Lisa under the full weight of her naked body.
Lisa bucked. Twisted. Her muffled grunts vibrated against Diane’s flesh.
"You don’t look so composed now," Diane growled, panting. "You’re going to go out under my pussy like a bitch."
Lisa’s fingers dug into Diane’s sides—then into her ribs—then up, grabbing both breasts and squeezing savagely.
Diane screamed and recoiled, giving Lisa the opening to twist free.
They exploded apart again—Lisa gasping for air, Diane wheezing from the breast-claw.
This time Lisa didn’t wait. She launched herself at Diane, tackling her to the mat.

They rolled—naked skin on cloth, legs tangling, fists slapping. Lisa took control—grabbing Diane by the hair and slamming her head down once, twice. Diane’s body went limp for a moment.
Lisa slid behind her, hooked her legs into Diane’s thighs, and yanked her arms back in a brutal surfboard stretch. Diane’s body arched hideously, breasts thrust forward, jaw open in silent pain.
Then Lisa let go of one arm, shifted her knee up into Diane’s back, and slid her free hand into Diane’s mouth again, fishhooking her from behind—twisting the stretch.
"You don’t learn, do you?" Lisa hissed. "I’ll make you scream every round."
Diane howled, her naked body on full display, stretched and contorted like a ragdoll. Lisa yanked back on her jaw and arm, her knee grinding into her spine.
Lisa savored the moment—Diane’s pain, her ragged gasps, the way her back arched and muscles trembled.

Then Diane, through grit and instinct, bit down—again. Lisa yelped and jerked her hand free, but it gave Diane enough momentum to twist to the side, roll, and shove Lisa off.
Both women collapsed onto their backs, staring at the ceiling, sweat dripping from every inch of their battered bodies.
The fight wasn’t over.
But neither woman would leave this round unscarred.
________________________________________
Lisa was the first to move again.
Still breathing heavily, she pushed up from the mat, her muscles tight and slick with sweat. Diane, naked and glistening, was on her side—one arm wrapped protectively around her aching ribs, her face twisted with pain and defiance. Her body was covered in bruises—red streaks from the Boston crab, darkening welts along her spine, and claw marks on her breasts where Lisa had squeezed cruelly.

But Lisa didn’t care.

She moved with slow, deliberate menace toward her downed opponent. Diane tried to sit up, but Lisa dropped to her knees beside her, shoved her back down, and mounted her stomach—pressing down hard, forcing a grunt from the blonde’s lips.
"Still think you can take me?" Lisa hissed, wiping sweat from her brow. "Still feel dominant down there, all naked and broken?"
Diane bucked—but Lisa slid forward, her thighs pinning Diane’s arms down to the mat. She adjusted her weight, trapping Diane in a tight schoolgirl pin, her crotch hovering just inches above Diane’s bruised, flushed face.
Lisa settled in slowly, letting her weight sink down until her shorts were pressed tightly to Diane’s mouth and nose.
"You like control, right? Let’s give you a nice, long taste of helpless."
She didn’t bounce. She didn’t grind. She just sat—cruel, still, heavy. Diane’s head shook, her muffled protests barely audible beneath the damp, musky fabric of Lisa’s shorts. Her eyes squeezed shut, then opened wide as her legs kicked helplessly. Lisa just watched her suffer, a slight smile curling her lips as Diane’s chest heaved beneath her.
Seconds dragged.
Diane’s muffled moans grew frantic—her legs pushing up, her back arching—but Lisa didn’t move. She let her hips roll forward a little more, her full weight centered on Diane’s face.
"Struggling’s not going to help you now," Lisa whispered. "Get used to the view."

Nearly a minute passed before Lisa lifted just enough for Diane to suck in a gasping breath—only to slam her hips back down and smother her again.
"Not done," she said flatly.
Diane’s legs thrashed again—then slowed. Her chest moved in sharp, panicked bursts. Only then did Lisa rise, slowly, dragging her shorts across Diane’s damp, reddened face as she stood.

She backed off and let Diane cough, twist, and curl up—gasping, her face flushed crimson, her lips slick with sweat and friction.
But Lisa wasn’t giving her long.
She dropped again, grabbed Diane’s ankles, and jerked her flat before stepping between her legs. Diane’s eyes widened as Lisa rolled her onto her stomach, then stepped over, locking in a deep, punishing sharpshooter.
Diane let out a hoarse scream as Lisa sat back, wrenching her legs upward and twisting her lower back in a brutal arc.
"Let’s break that spine a little more," Lisa growled.

The stretch was exquisite in its cruelty—Diane’s bare ass lifted off the mat, her back bending painfully, the tops of her feet nearly touching her head as Lisa leaned farther back. Every time Diane whimpered, Lisa pulled just a little more, deepening the pressure.

Diane’s hands clawed at the canvas. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Sweat poured down her temples. Her entire body shook under the relentless hold.
Lisa let it sit there.
Let it bake.
A full minute passed. Maybe two. Diane’s voice had gone quiet—replaced by choked sobs and soft, broken groans.
Only when Diane’s arm started to twitch—reaching toward the edge of the mat, not even to escape, just to find something—did Lisa finally release the hold and shove her down.
Diane collapsed in a limp, trembling heap. Her legs splayed awkwardly. Her back arched unnaturally. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
Lisa stood over her again. Unhurried. In control.
But she wasn’t ready to end it.

She rolled Diane onto her side, then knelt behind her and threaded one leg over her hip, locking in a tight, cruel body scissor from behind.
Then she reached around Diane’s head and cupped her chin, pulling her into a modified dragon sleeper—not to knock her out, but to wrench her neck at a brutal angle.
The double pressure was vicious—Lisa’s thick thighs crushed Diane’s soft, naked midsection, each pulse squeezing air and pride from her lungs, while her neck was twisted sharply back against Lisa’s bicep.

"You wanted more? You got it," Lisa hissed.
Diane couldn’t scream. She could barely moan. Her hands feebly pulled at Lisa’s forearm, then dropped, pawing at her thigh, her body spasming as the scissor tightened again.
Lisa rocked her hips slightly, squeezing in pulses.
"I could hold you here all night," she whispered. "Just like this. Naked, humiliated, mine."
Diane’s lips parted. A single, broken gasp escaped.
But somehow… she still didn’t tap.
Lisa growled, frustrated. She released the sleeper, grabbed Diane by the hair, and threw her onto her stomach.
"You’re a stubborn bitch."
She yanked Diane up, dragged her toward the ropes by the hair. Diane whimpered, her legs barely functioning, her body limp and glistening. Lisa hooked her arms over the second rope, pulling her up until she sagged, suspended, her arms spread across the middle rope.

Then Lisa stepped behind her, slid her arms under Diane’s armpits, and locked in a full nelson—dragging Diane back into a standing position, her bare breasts thrust forward, her sweat-slick skin trembling.

Lisa lifted—forcing Diane onto her tiptoes, bending her spine again, trapping her with no escape.
"Let’s see how much more that spine can take," she snarled.

Diane cried out, her legs flailing, her feet barely touching the mat.
Lisa held it.
Seconds passed.
Diane’s head lolled back. Her eyes fluttered.
Lisa still held it.
Minutes passed. The room was filled with nothing but ragged breathing, creaking ropes, and the soft, broken moans of a body pushed to its limit.
But somehow—somehow—Diane still didn’t submit.
Lisa finally let her go. Diane collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
The brunette stood over her, chest heaving, sweat pouring down her arms and neck. For the first time, Lisa looked tired too.
Both women lay motionless now—one naked and broken, the other kneeling, barely breathing.
And the fall was still not over.

The mat was quiet.
Lisa stood over Diane’s broken form, chest rising and falling. Her hands rested on her thighs, fingers flexing, her muscles trembling—not from pain, but from exertion. From the effort of dismantling another woman so thoroughly. She licked sweat from her upper lip, eyes narrowed as she watched Diane twitch—face down, her bare back rising with slow, labored breaths.
She took a step forward.
That was her mistake.
Diane’s arm snapped up and grabbed Lisa’s ankle.

Lisa barely had time to register it before Diane twisted violently, sweeping Lisa’s leg and sending the brunette crashing to the mat with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the gym like a thunderclap.
Lisa grunted as her back hit, her eyes wide in surprise.

Diane was already climbing over her—clumsy, shaking, but with something wild in her eyes. Rage. Pride. Survival.
Lisa tried to shove her off, but Diane slapped her hand away and drove a forearm across her throat, pinning her down with every ounce of her weight.
"You’re not the only one who can take pain," Diane snarled, her voice cracked and hoarse.
Lisa’s legs kicked, but Diane used her knees to trap her arms down, straddling her chest now, completely nude and dominant. Sweat dripped from her breasts onto Lisa’s chest.
Then Diane reached back, grabbed both of Lisa’s legs by the ankles, and folded them up over her head—forcing Lisa into a humiliating matchbook pin, her ass slightly off the mat, her face flushed.
"Let’s stretch you for a change."
Diane held the position—pressing Lisa’s thighs down tight, exposing her completely, squeezing her knees toward her shoulders. Lisa’s face contorted in pain and humiliation, her muffled growl breaking into a gasp as Diane bounced slightly, increasing the pressure on Lisa’s spine and hamstrings.
"You like making me beg?" Diane spat, her eyes burning. "Let’s see how long you last."
Lisa bucked—once. Diane slammed her knees back down.
Twice. Diane leaned forward, her face just above Lisa’s, bare breasts brushing against her top.
"You made me scream," she whispered. "Now it’s your turn."
She held the position for nearly a full minute—Lisa’s legs trembling, her hips starting to spasm from the unnatural fold. Lisa groaned low in her throat, her fingers clawing uselessly at the mat.
Then Diane released the hold and stood up, swaying slightly.
Lisa rolled to her side, panting—and Diane pounced again, grabbing her wrist and twisting her onto her stomach, then planting one knee between her shoulder blades and yanking her arm up into a savage hammerlock.

Lisa’s body bucked, her eyes wide with pain as her shoulder was torqued brutally.
"How’s that feel, Coach?" Diane growled, twisting harder. "You like being bent and twisted? How about this?!"
Lisa screamed—not out of humiliation this time, but raw agony. Her shoulder was being ripped.
And Diane held it.
Held it until Lisa’s feet drummed against the canvas, her free hand reaching back in desperation.
Only when Lisa’s struggling began to weaken did Diane release her wrist—and grab both arms instead, yanking her into a deep, surfboard hold, her foot pressed between Lisa’s shoulder blades, her body bent backward like a drawn bow.

Lisa wailed, her abs stretched to their limit, her arms pulled back viciously. Her teeth gritted. Diane pulled higher.
"You thought I was broken," Diane whispered, breath hot against Lisa’s ear. "You thought I’d stay down."

Lisa choked out a ragged breath. “You were...”
Diane yanked higher. Lisa screamed.
Then—slowly—Diane released her arms and dropped her face-first to the mat.
Lisa groaned, trying to push up, but her arms gave out.
And Diane wasn’t done.
She straddled Lisa’s lower back, reached down, and grabbed a fistful of Lisa’s shorts—yanking them roughly upward into a painful wedge between her legs, baring more of her opponent’s flesh.
Lisa grunted in surprise as her hips lifted slightly.
"You’ve stayed too comfortable for too long," Diane growled. "Let’s change that."
Then she snaked her legs around Lisa’s waist and locked in a brutal body scissor, just under the ribs.

The pressure was instant. Lisa’s eyes went wide as Diane’s thighs crushed inward, digging into her obliques like iron bands. She gasped—then choked—then groaned, her fists pounding the mat.

Diane squeezed in pulses, her thighs trembling with effort, but still strong.
"You like taking air from people, Lisa?" Diane hissed in her ear. "Let’s see how you like gasping for it."
Lisa coughed, her back arching. Her hands reached for Diane’s legs, but the angle was wrong. She couldn’t get leverage. She couldn’t breathe.
She could only endure.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then Diane slid one hand forward, wrapped it around Lisa’s chin, and pulled her head back, adding a cruel neck crank to the crushing scissor.
Lisa’s scream was hoarse, broken.

Diane didn’t stop.
She held the combination until Lisa slumped slightly, then released—not to be merciful, but to reposition.
She spun Lisa over, mounted her chest, and leaned down—hooking both of Lisa’s arms under her knees.
Lisa’s arms were pinned.

Diane smiled.

"Time for your lesson."
She grabbed Lisa’s hair, lifted her head off the mat, and slammed it back down. Once. Twice. Not to knock her out—but to punish her. To humiliate her the way she’d been humiliated.
Then Diane scooted forward and planted herself in a full, dominant naked facesit—Lisa’s mouth and nose buried beneath her.
This time, she held it.
Lisa bucked. Diane ground her hips forward, smearing sweat and dominance across her rival’s features.
"You wanted to break me," she panted. "But I’m going to ride you until you can’t even remember your name."
And she did.

Lisa kicked for a few seconds.
Her hands clawed at Diane’s thighs—then fell away.
And still, Diane held it.

Not to smother her unconscious. Not to win yet.
But to prove—without a doubt—that she could.
Lisa’s world was nothing but flesh and heat and shame.
She bucked and struggled beneath Diane’s naked, grinding form, her air cut off, her mouth lost beneath the damp swell of her opponent’s smothering revenge. Diane’s fingers moved feverishly between her legs, hips rocking harder now, chasing her own release with merciless rhythm.
Lisa was dizzy, breathless, humiliated. And just as Diane’s thighs clamped tighter, her back arching in climax, Lisa screamed—voice muffled, raw, desperate:
"I submit!"
It came just as Diane shuddered violently, her orgasm crashing through her in ragged waves. Her moan echoed off the walls, primal and broken, as she ground herself fully down onto Lisa’s face and let go. Her fingers gripped Lisa’s hair, holding her there until the tremors in her thighs began to fade and her breath returned in shallow gasps.
Finally, Diane pulled back—trembling, flushed, victorious in the moment. She rose shakily to her feet, her body gleaming with sweat, and looked down at the wreckage beneath her.
Lisa was gasping, eyes unfocused, mouth parted, chest heaving.
The score: 2–1. Lisa still led.

But Diane’s expression twisted into a slow, dark smile.
"You might be ahead," she rasped, breath catching, "but you just screamed into my pussy, Lisa."
Lisa’s eyes flicked upward, burning with fury and shame.

Diane crouched beside her, naked and dripping sweat, her voice low and venomous.
"You’re not walking out of this with your pride intact. Not after that." She leaned closer, breath hot against Lisa’s cheek. "Now… take it off." Diane rasped, standing tall over Lisa, her body glistening, flushed, and fully exposed. Her bare chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the last shudders of orgasm still trembling in her thighs. Her voice cut through the heavy air—low, sharp, and full of vengeance.
Lisa lay on her back, coughing in shallow breaths, sweat-slicked and humiliated, her face flushed from both suffocation and submission. She blinked, disoriented. “What?”
Diane stepped closer, naked and unashamed, towering above her fallen rival. “You’re still ahead. Two falls to one,” she said bitterly. “But you just screamed your submission into my pussy, Lisa. Don’t pretend that didn’t change something.”

Lisa pushed herself to her elbows, her chest rising under the soaked fabric of her still-intact sports bra. Her lips curled slightly, trying to form a retort—but nothing came. Her eyes burned, not from pain, but the weight of what had just happened.

Diane crouched, closer now, her voice a growl: “You made me strip after each loss. You ripped my top. Then you made me take off my bottoms. You humiliated me.” She leaned in. “Well, now it’s your turn.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes.
Diane didn’t flinch. “Take. Off. Your. Bra.”
Lisa’s jaw clenched. She still held the lead. She still had her pride. But her face was slick with Diane’s climax, and the memory of those final seconds—powerless, trapped, used—was burning behind her eyes.
Slowly, she reached behind her back.
The tension in the air was thick as she unhooked her bra. She pulled it forward, the damp fabric clinging to her before slipping free. Her breasts fell bare into the air—marked with faint bruises, red from sweat and strain.
She tossed the bra aside, keeping her chin high even as her cheeks flushed.
Diane’s lips curled into a small, savage smile. “That’s better.”

Lisa sat up, topless now, eyes never leaving Diane’s. Her fists clenched at her sides.
“Still 2–1,” she said coldly.

Diane straightened, her naked frame shining with exertion. “Then let’s make it 2–2.”
The heat between them was building again—slow, inevitable, volcanic.

There was still fight left in both of them.

18

Catfighting / Re: If opposites attract, then what happens to similars...?

« Last post by tommyfighter on Yesterday at 01:52:56 PM »

Getting good!!!!!!!!!!!!

19

Celebrity Fights- Polls / Re: Twinkle Khanna vs Raveena Tandon - Dopplegangers Catfight

« Last post by ccunain on Yesterday at 12:53:45 PM »

Raveena Tandon and Twinkle Khanna looks the same many times. Sometimes it's confusing. The face cut and cheek bones make them look similar.

But great comparison again. Raveena and Twinkle are some of the best from 90's

20

Cyber Fight Section / Re: Training my Realistic Fight Simulator!

« Last post by underdogKu on Yesterday at 09:49:36 AM »

This is super interesting! Are you using a specific model that’s out there already or is this something you built from scratch?

Thanks for the response!

I'm using an existing model. I've spent time refining the attributes that go into determining the winner of these fights. Age, reach, weight, power, stamina, among other play a vital part on how you rank among the fighters

Erotic fighting is something I've recently started simulating. It wasn't easy, given AI policies, but I made it happen