The following story is entirely fictional, and was largely written by AI based on a rough plot, a prologue and asking the AI software to decide who wins the beach catfight. 
This is the 1st installment of a series of 5-6 stories that are sort of related & intended to following chronologically on each other. :glasses:
Also note that in this first installment: my twin sibling, Sonny, is presented as one who has not yet identified as a male, and not yet started the transitioning process towards aligning more with a male identity.
Hope some folks enjoy & get involved, 
and please give feedback ... we love hearing from the fans! 
For those interested, have also put up a Poll at DeviantArt about who you MOST would like to see win in the 2 x 2 Beach Catfight below:
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=124004.0- Sin Twins (Sonja and Sonny)************
SIN TWINS CATFIGHT DOMINATRIX SAGA, No. 1My name is Sonja Sin, and my twin sister is Sonny. We are both in our final year at Pepperdine University and love going to the beach to flaunt our bodies. Both of us are fit and strong, and go to gym regularly and play numerous other sport, but aren’t on any college team. We also enjoy using the punch bags in the gym, praising our kicks, punches, knees, elbows, often imagining ourselves clobbering our opponents until they were sobbing wrecks. Though we do work out with weights a little, our focus is more on aerobic exercise. Hence, we also enjoy a daily run of about 3 miles or so.
I suppose I’m bisexual, and have been with a couple of guys. However, my experience with them has been quite disappointing - they had no clue how to sexually please me, and were only interested in getting themselves off. So my preference currently is definitely women, though if a charming guy comes along, who knows? My twin sister, Sonny, is strictly a ‘butch dyke’ as she likes to think of herself, and is only into women, and likes to be the ‘boy’ in the relationship. It won’t surprise me, or our family, if one of these days, she decides to identify herself as a man, and starting using male hormones, etc. On the other hand, she still likes girly stuff, and like me, is not shy to show off her body, and enjoyed the attention we often get.
We had just recently each gotten a Wicked Weasel bikini, and were astonished at how small they were, and only barely covered us. More-over, since I’d gotten a neon-pink and my twin a white bikini, we were quite excited that when it became wet, our dark nipples were clearly visible as were our puffy pussy-lips underneath. It was like being completely naked on the beach, though still legally covered in the right areas - wink, wink!
While we usually like to have full, trimmed bushes, we had to almost completely shave off our pubes, only leaving a small narrow strip on our mons, which we thought looked quite sexy, and teasing, especially when we came out of the surf.
So that summer, Sonny and I, spent a lot of time on the beach, tanning, and swimming, enjoying the admiring and often lustful looks of the young men on the beach, and even a few women. We would especially be stared at when we came out of the ocean, drenched wet, our Wicked Weasel bikinis literally plastered to our bodies, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Of course, knowing eyes were on us, made us sway our hips deliberately - sometimes even jogging out of the water, so that our small, firm tits would jiggle and bounce a bit - if you’ve got it, why not flaunt it, huh? Naughty giggle!
The lusty, admiring attention we’d get obviously drew the attention of numerous jealous bitches, and we’d nearly gotten into a number of nasty catfights. But they were all stopped by lifeguards or concerned boyfriends or husbands, which was a huge pity, as Sonny and I had often fantasized about getting into a furious fight with other women, then stripping and sexually humiliating, and dominating them. Sick and perverted as it may sound, the fantasy made us so fucking wet and horny. Perhaps arrogantly, the thought of us losing, and getting humiliated ourselves, never occurred to us. After all we were lean and mean and were confident in our fighting abilities.
We found a kinky site called Ultimate Surrender that dealt exactly with the sort of erotic catfight, wrestling fantasy we dreamed about. Often we’d re-enact and practice the moves while watching, even the sexual punishment phase. But we literally itched for a real life experience.
That bring us to today …
It is early in the morning, and we immediately spot two women, somewhat plump and curvy compared to us, but not fat. With them were their two boyfriends, one a bit lumpy but the other one more hunky and buff. We recognized the two women as Janelle & Beth, fellow college students, and knew they were on the women’s wrestling team. But we never thought much of wrestling as sport - to us it just seemed like mindless rolling around on the mat. We’d also seen them train at the gym, and to us they didn’t seem nearly as fit as we were.
“Mmm, I see the perfect spot …”, I whisper to Sonny, winking at her. Slowly we saunter over.
“You *sure* this spot’s not taken?” my voice was all honey and nails, loud enough to carry over the hiss of waves. my fingers lingered on the waistband of my thong, adjusting it just *so* as I dropped my towel—neon pink, aggressively small—right where Janelle’s boyfriend’s shadow should’ve been.
Across the beach, a kid dropped his ice cream cone. A seagull swooped in. Nobody breathed.
After a rejuvenating dip in the ocean, we strolled back casually to our towels, drops of water glistening on our toned, tanned bodies, fully aware of the angry glares from the two wrestling sluts - but proudly, with our wet Wicked Weasels, plastered to our bodies, showing off our perk bouncing tits and nipples, and the alluring cleft of our cameltoes.
Then my twin sister, Sonny, and I, make a show of adjusting our soaked dental-floss Wicked Weasel thongs, hips swaying as we towel each other’s shoulders off with slow, deliberate strokes. I winked at Sonny as I saw from the corner of my eye, Janelle’s nails dig into her Pina Colada cup. Her equally furious friend, Beth—soft-bodied in a floral cover-up—mutters, *“Someone oughta teach those two sluts a lesson.”*
Janelle’s boyfriend—Mike, his name was Mike, not that it mattered now—made a wet, strangled noise in his throat as I next bent over to unpack my sunscreen, knowing my thong would vanish between my butt cheeks and give a cheeky flash of my puffy pussy lips and that the silly goof had probably only ever seen blurred out on premium Snapchat. Beth’s straw snapped inside her drink. “Oh *hell* no,” she hissed, but Janelle was already moving, flip-flops kicking up hot sand as she stomped toward us.
Sonny — just as brutal, just as calculated — met her halfway, hips cocked, a smirk playing on lips glossed with something called “Daddy’s Credit Card.”
“Problem?” she purred, and that’s when Janelle’s drink *splattered* across Sonny’s tits and chest, sticky rum and coconut milk dripping between her tits and running over her muscled abs.
The silence lasted exactly one heartbeat.
Sonny looked down at her ruined bikini top, then up at Janelle with the slow, predatory focus of a lioness spotting wounded prey. “Oh, *sweetie*,” she sighed—right before slapping Janelle so hard her sunglasses went airborne.
Meanwhile Beth upends my beach bag, sending tampons, a vape pen, a silver vibrator, a purse dildo, scattering across the sand, my angry shriek cutting through the surf. *
“Oops,”* she sneers, toeing my expensive sunglasses into the tide. What happens next is pure, unfiltered chaos: I lunge, Beth grabs a fistful of my buzzcut, and suddenly it’s two-on-two, a tangle of flying sand, split lips, and bikini straps turned into weapons.
Beth charged as I twisted and managed to trip her into the surf, but she dragged me down with her. Saltwater sprayed as we rolled, Beth clawing at my face while I countered by twisting Beth’s nipple through her cover-up. The guttural yelp echoed down the shoreline.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
