Parris fights Nikki Glaser over mean joke

[oddities]

It started when Nikki Glaser made a dumb blonde joke about Paris Hilton during one of her stand-up specials.

Paris had been working hard on making that persona go away. Claiming that, "It was always an act."

At Nikki Glaser's next show, she doubled down. Paris had had enough. She found Nikki and told her, "You want to talk shit about me that isn't true? Well I'll tell you what, You come to my mansion and meet me in my empty pool. You'll see just how funny I am"

Nikki practically salivated at the opportunity.

It was a 36' x 16' pool. Flat bottom of 5' deep. Paris was already waiting for her.

The moment Nikki's sneakers hit the dry pool tiles, Paris lunged--not with hands, but with words sharp enough to draw blood. "You think I'm some joke?" Paris hissed, her usually airy voice tight with something darker. Nikki barely had time to register the manicured fingers grabbing her shirt collar before their foreheads were inches apart, close enough to smell Paris' vanilla gloss and the adrenaline underneath.

"You *are* a joke," Nikki shot back, grinning like this was another punchline.

The pool walls suddenly felt taller, trapping them in a spotlight neither had rehearsed. Nikki's fingers twitched toward Paris' wrists, but she hesitated. This wasn't a stage. No mic to drop.

They yelled vile shit in each others faces.

Nikki's palm cracked against Paris' cheek with a sound like a popped balloon. For half a second, everything froze--Paris' glossy lips parted mid-insult, Nikki's fingers still tingling from the impact, the empty pool echoing the slap back at them like a sarcastic applause track.

Paris blinked once. Twice. Then her manicured hand flew to her stinging cheek.

"Bring it, Barbie," Nikki hissed.

Paris tackled her--sudden, ungraceful, and with all her weight behind it. Nikki's back hit the pool tiles as Paris landed on top."You think I don't know what people say about me?" Paris spat, her voice cracking somewhere between fury and something raw.

Paris's fist connected with Nikki's jaw in a way that felt cartoonish--lNikki's head snapped sideways, her ponytail whipping across her own face. Paris didn't let up. She swung again, this time striking Nikki's forehead. Her manicured knuckles kept coming--left, right, left--each punch landing with precision.

Nikki's arms flailed upward, more reflex than defense, catching glimpses of Paris's face between blows: the smear of mascara under one eye, the way her pink gloss had smudged onto her teeth.

Paris was pissed off. Her shoulders tensed beneath that stupidly expensive silk top. Nikki was fading and Paris's knuckles ached from the impact, but neither of them was backing down.

Paris hooked her fingers into the collar of Nikki's shirt, her knuckles stinging from the punches but her grip still iron-tight. "You wanna see funny?" she hissed, dragging Nikki toward the pool's edge. Nikki's sneakers scraped against the dry tiles, her legs kicking out halfheartedly--more instinct than actual resistance. The back of Nikki's skull thunked against the pool's floor, her ponytail catching on the rough concrete edge.

Paris's grip on Nikki's collar tightened as she yanked her toward the pool's edge. Nikki's vision blurred for a second--she saw the cracked tile line where the pool's bottom met the wall. Then Paris's voice cut through the haze: "Let's see how funny your face looks smashed into concrete.

But Nikki stopped the attack by bracing her hands on the edge.

Nikki's fingers dug into the rough concrete edge, her arms trembling but holding firm. Paris yanked again, her manicured nails biting into Nikki's collar, but Nikki wasn't budging. Instead, she kicked out blindly--her sneaker connected with Paris's shin, stumbling back just enough for Nikki to twist free and rain body blows.

Nikki's knuckles burned as they connected with Paris's ribs--once, twice--each punch landing with a muffled thud. Paris gasped, her grip loosening just enough for Nikki to wrench herself backward, her shirt tearing at the collar.

You could see some of Nikki's bra.

Paris staggered back, clutching her side where Nikki's punches had landed.

Nikki's fists kept flying--left, right, another left--but Paris wasn't buckling. Each punch landed with a dull thud against Paris's ribs, her forearms, the meat of her shoulder, but the blonde just gritted her teeth and swayed like a palm tree in a storm. Nikki's knuckles were raw now, the skin splitting over her middle finger, but Paris wouldn't. Go. Down.

Until Nikki kicked shoved her to her ass.

Nikki's foot connected with Paris's temple in a sickening *crack*--not the clean thud of a body blow, but the sharp, hollow sound of bone meeting bone at speed. Paris's head snapped sideways, her  hair whipping across her face. For one suspended second, her body went rigid, then she folded, collapsing onto the pool tiles with a limp thump.

"Get up,"

Paris laid there. Her tits rising and falling underneath her shirt.

"C'mon, get the hell up, Hilton."

Nikki was pissed--not just regular pissed, but the kind of pissed that made her ears ring and her vision tunnel. Paris wasn't moving, just lying there like a damn mannequin, chest rising and falling like this was some spa day nap. Nikki wiped her split knuckles on her torn shirt, the sting barely registering over the adrenaline thrumming in her veins. "Oh, you're done?" she spat, kicking a loose pebble at Paris's leg. It bounced off her thigh, leaving a tiny dust mark on those stupid designer jeans.

Paris's fingers twitched first--tiny, involuntary movements against the pool tiles. Then her shoulders tensed, her spine arching slightly as she pushed herself onto her hands.

"You wish," she slurred. A thin line of spit hung from her lower lip, mixing with the smeared gloss.

"Good."

With one brutal yank, Paris' shirt was yanked over her head,  The ruined silk fluttered to the ground between them, leaving Paris standing there in nothing but her designer jeans and her bra, holding in her small titties.

Nikki's fist curled tight. She swung upward in a brutal arc, her body twisting with the motion. The uppercut connected under Paris's chin, dropping her again before he had a chance to get off her knees.

Paris was reeling, her vision swimming in and out of focus as she rolled onto her side, the rough pool tiles scraping against her bare stomach. The world tilted--her chin throbbed where Nikki's uppercut had landed.

Nikki got out of the pool. Now it was time to finish it

She grabbed the water hose, not noticing Paris crawling toward her.

Nikki grinned. " I'm going to strangle you to death and write a whole set about it.

She turned around too late. Paris grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her in.

It became a battle of leverage. So many times was Paris able to get her one legged teetering over the edge, but Nikki was able to pull back.

[oddities]

Eventually Paris crawled out using her like a ladder, and ripping the rest of her shirt off. Nikki's tits were no bigger than Paris'.

The vitriol would make a sailor blush.

The first punch came from nowhere--wild, desperate, Nikki's fist grazing Paris's shoulder as she stumbled sideways. Paris retaliated with a clawing swipe that caught Nikki's cheekbone, leaving red streaks in its wake. No technique, no strategy--just raw, unfiltered fury turning their limbs into weapons.

Their small titties jiggled with every wild swing--Paris's barely-contained in a black lace bra that cost more than Nikki's entire outfit, Nikki's bouncing freely now that her ruined shirt hung in tatters. The slap of flesh against flesh was almost comical, like two wet towels being whipped against each other in a locker room. Paris's manicured nails raked down Nikki's ribcage, leaving angry pink trails.

Nikki's palms slammed into Paris's bare shoulders, shoving with all her weight behind it--but Paris staggered back only two steps before digging her heels in, her manicured toes curling against the rough pool edge. The muscles in Paris's arms stood out like cables as she grabbed Nikki's wrists, their sweat-slick skin making a wet smack where they connected. For three heartbeats, they teetered there, Nikki's sneakers skidding on the tile grit while Paris's back arched dangerously over the empty pool.

Paris's heel hit a slick patch of sweat-damp tile just as Nikki yanked backward--her balance gone in an instant. Desperate, Paris's hands flew out, fingers  into the waistband of Nikki's jeans. The denim ripped downward as Paris dropped to her knees, Nikki's pants now bunched around her ankles.

Nikki's lungs burned. Paris was gasping too--her bare shoulders heaving, that stupid expensive bra strap slipping down one arm. Their sweat made the deck slick. Nikki's torn jeans dug into her  where she knelt, the denim suddenly heavy as wet cardboard.

Paris's fingers twisted deeper into the waistband of Nikki's jeans as she went down--not letting go, not even when her knees hit the tile with a crack that echoed through the empty pool. Nikki yelped as the denim wrenched tight against her hips, her balance tipping backward. For one dizzying second, Nikki saw Paris's smeared makeup, the wild glint in her eyes, before Paris *pulled*.

Nikki's bare thighs hit the pool edge first, then her back slammed into the dry bottom with Paris still clinging to her jeans like a lifeline. The impact knocked the air from Nikki's lungs in a choked gasp, her arms flailing as Paris came tumbling after her--a tangle of limbs, lace, and ragged breathing. Their elbows and knees cracked together, pain blooming in sharp bursts, but neither let go. Paris's teeth sank into Nikki's shoulder; Nikki's fingernails scraped down Paris's bare spine. They rolled across the pool floor in a frenzy, tile grit sticking to their sweat-slick skin.

They stopped rolling--suddenly, awkwardly--Paris sprawled half on top of Nikki, their legs tangled. Nikki's ribs burned where Paris's elbow had dug in during the tumble; Paris's breath  against Nikki's collarbone. For ten seconds, neither moved. The only sound was their breathing.

Paris spat the words, "I *hate* how you talk about me like I'm some dumb bitch who got lucky."  "Like I didn't build every fucking thing I have."

"Oh, cry me a river, rich girl. You built *what*? A brand on daddy's money and fake everything?

Paris's hands found Nikki's throat, fingers pressing into the soft hollow beneath her jaw, thumbs digging into her windpipe. Nikki's insult died mid-syllable, Paris's grip wasn't practiced, wasn't clean--her manicured nails bit into Nikki's skin as she bore down, her whole body shaking with the effort. Nikki's eyes bulged,  but the blonde just leaned in closer. "Say I'm *nothing* again."

Nikki kicked for her life-- the desperate thrashing of a woman who knew exactly how little air she had left. Her foot connected with Paris's knee in a crack that made the blonde choke, but those manicured fingers only tightened. Nikki's vision, dark spots blooming. She arched her back, twisting sideways with all her strength--- nothing.

Nikki's fingers found Paris's throat in the chaos-- Paris's manicured hands were still clamped around Nikki's windpipe, but Nikki's thumbs dug into the soft hollow beneath Paris's jaw, pressing upward with every ounce of fading strength she had left.

"Die already," Paris spat, her manicured fingers trembling against Nikki's throat.

"You first," before Paris's grip tightened again.

Their thumbs pressed deeper into each other's windpipes, a grotesque mirror of desperation. The pool tiles burned against Nikki's bare back, but all she could focus on was the fire in her lungs and Paris's smeared eyeliner swimming in her fading vision. Paris's lips were parted--not in a gasp, but in a silent snarl--yet her manicured fingers trembled against Nikki's throat. A drop of sweat rolled from Paris's temple and splattered onto Nikki's cheekbone, warm and oddly intimate.

Their fingers slackened at the same time--not from mercy, but from sheer exhaustion. Paris's manicured nails slipped first, indents in Nikki's throat as her arms gave out. Nikki's thumbs slid from Paris's windpipe a second later, her hands dropping to the pool tiles with a thud.  Their chests heaved as oxygen flooded back into their burning lungs. They just stared at each other, their faces inches apart, lips swollen and makeup smeared.

Nikki's fingers clawed at the rough edge of the pool, her nails scraping against concrete as she tried to haul herself up. Every muscle in her arms burned--her shoulders screamed from the strain, her ribs ached where Paris's knees had dug in during their tussle. The world swayed as she got one elbow over the edge, her panties catching on a jagged tile seam and ripping. Behind her, Paris groaned, rolling onto her side.

Paris's fingers closed around the torn lace clinging to Nikki's hips just as the comedian managed to get one knee onto the pool edge. With one brutal yank, the last scrap of fabric gave way--the sound of ripping fabric almost comically loud in the empty space between their labored breaths. Nikki's bare ass hit the tile with a smack, her legs splaying wide as Paris flung the ruined panties over her shoulder like a victory flag.

Nikki's tiny ass cheeks jiggled as she scrambled backward on all fours, the slap of bare skin against tile echoing through the empty pool like a demented applause track. Paris blinked sweat from her lashes, momentarily distracted by the way those pale, freckled cheeks trembled with each panicked movement.

Paris lunged forward, her teeth sinking into the plush flesh of Nikki's bare ass cheek with a wet, vicious chomp. Nikki shrieked a raw, undignified sound that echoed off the empty pool walls--her body jerking forward instinctively. Paris's teeth stayed locked in, her fingers digging into Nikki's hips for leverage as she bit down harder, tasting salt and sweat. Nikki's skin stretched taut between Paris's incisors, the imprint of her teeth blooming red beneath the freckles.

Paris dragged her back into the pool by her ass cheeks. They tumbled backward--Paris's teeth still clamped onto Nikki's flesh, Nikki's fingers clawing at Paris's scalp, screaming as she pulled fistfuls of blonde extensions loose. They hit the pool floor hard, Paris's back taking the brunt of the impact, but she didn't let go. Nikki bucked wildly, her thighs slapping against the tiles as she tried to shake Paris off like a rabid dog.

They rolled around the pool again like two feral cats tangled in a sack. Paris's teeth finally tore free from Nikki's ass, leaving behind  reddened teeth marks. Nikki screamed, kicking backward blindly, her heel connecting with Paris's sternum in a way that made the blonde wheeze.

They collapsed in a heap, panting. Paris sprawled on her back, one arm flung over her eyes, her chest rising in gulps that made her lace bra strap slip completely off her shoulder. Nikki lay face down a few feet away, her bare ass still throbbing where Paris's teeth formed a perfect  set of marks.

"You're a talentless cxnt," Paris spat. The word hung between them, sharp as broken glass

"Spoiled cxnt," Nikki shot back, but there was no heat left in it. Just exhaustion. The insult landed limp between them, half-hearted. She clawed her way toward Paris and unbuttoned her pants, but Paris shook her off.

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Paris's designer jeans pooled around her ankles-- they both froze. Paris stood there in nothing but her black lace panties and bra, her toned legs glistening with sweat, the waistband of her underwear riding up over one hipbone where Nikki's fingers had yanked at them during their tussle. Nikki's gaze dropped, then snapped back up just in time to see Paris's face twist from shock to fury.

Paris lunged first. Her bare foot skidded on the sweat-slick tiles as she threw herself. Nikki screamed, her own hands flying up to grip Paris's wrists, but the blonde had leverage now. Paris shoved her backward.

They fell on each other again and rolled to the pool edge and pulled each other to their feet.

Nikki grabbed the rubber hose coiled around Paris' throat. Her knuckles burned as she twisted it tighter, the plastic ridges digging into Paris' sweat-slick skin. Paris gagged--her fingers clawed  at the makeshift noose, her glossy nails leaving red trails along her own neck. The hose creaked under the strain, the nozzle bouncing against Paris' collarbone with each frantic twist.

Paris thrashed so hard she unhooked her bra, leaving her small titties swinging in the wind as she got weaker.

Paris's fingers slipped from the hose one last time--not from any sudden burst of strength, but because the edges of her vision had started dissolving into static. Her bare toes curled against the pool tiles, her designer jeans pooled around her ankles like a surrender flag. The realization hit her harder than any of Nikki's punches: she couldn't win this. Not like this. Not with her lungs screaming and her tits swinging free and Nikki's wild eyes burning into hers.

"Just--" Paris's voice cracked, her fingers twitching against the hose digging into her throat. A thin line of spit stretched from her lower lip to Nikki's forearm as she bucked weakly, her bare chest heaving. "Stop." The word came out airless, more vibration than sound. Nikki could feel it through the hose--Paris's windpipe trembling under the pressure like a straw about to collapse.

Nikki leaned in, close enough to count the broken capillaries in Paris's bloodshot eyes. "What was that, princess?" She loosened the hose just enough to let Paris drag in a whistling breath.

Paris's chest heaved, the hose still coiled around her throat like a grotesque necklace. Her bare knees trembled against the pool tiles, her small breasts rising and falling with each shallow, whistling breath. The words tasted like battery acid as they crawled up her throat: "I--" A cough rattled her ribs. "*Fine*. You win."

Nikki's grip on the hose faltered. Not from mercy--from sheer disbelief. Paris Hilton didn't say those words. Not ever. The plastic uncoiled slightly, the nozzle bouncing against Paris's collarbone as Nikki leaned in closer. "Say it again." Her voice was raw, like she'd swallowed gravel. "Louder."

Paris's fingernails--chipped now, half her manicure shredded--dug into Nikki's forearms. Not to fight. To stay upright. Her glossy lower lip split as she forced the words out: "You *won*." The admission hung between them, ugly and undeniable. A mascara-streaked tear rolled down her cheek, cutting through the sweat and grime.

Nikki's fingers twitched around the coiled hose, her gaze dropping to Paris's exposed body--the heaving chest, the tangled designer jeans around her ankles. A cruel smirk twisted Nikki's lips as she yanked the hose free from Paris's throat, the plastic hissing against sweat-slick skin. Paris gasped, her hands flying to her bruised neck, but Nikki was already moving.

The nozzle was cold against Paris's thigh as Nikki dragged it downward. Paris stiffened, her breath hitching--not in protest, but in sudden, dawning horror. "You wouldn't--" The words died in her throat.

Paris's scream hit the empty pool walls like a car alarm--shrill, undignified, cracking midway into something raw. Nikki drove the hose upward in her ass in one brutal thrust, the nozzle catching on Paris's clenched muscles. Paris's body jackknifed, her spine bowing backward as her fingers clawed at the pool tiles, manicured nails snapping against concrete. The hose bent at a grotesque angle inside her, the plastic creaking with each frantic twitch of Paris's hips. her entire body shuddering. A thin string of saliva dangled from her lips. Nikki stared at the hose in her hand--the plastic glistening under the harsh sunlight--then tossed it aside like it was nothing.

[oddities]