Here's a story I wrote from 3 years ago, in fact, it is the first full length catfight story I'd written - though I'd been writing many bits & pieces before then.
It describes me clashing with Tasha in a wild & wacky FFF Pollfight. Prior to this story, after a 1st fight defeat, I'd clawed my way up the ladder eventually becoming FFF champion, but then losing my 1st title defense and another match after that. So this was a fight between equal contenders; hopefully to get my Title fight chances back on track again.
Hope you enjoy & PLEASE COMMENT!
Hugs
Kayla
P.S. Since then Tasha & I have had two other clashes which I'll be posting in due course - one is completely new!
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Female Fight Fiction Challenge
Catfight: SuperMarket Brawl
Kayla (FFF #5 Contender) vs. Tasha (FFF #5 Contender)
Written by: Kayla
April 2006
Usually my girlfriend and lover, Heather, does the shopping, but this time I agreed to do the chore as she had a series of college classes to attend and important tests to study for.
Shopping for groceries in a supermarket was hardly something that I found exciting ‘do unlike shopping for new jewelry, cosmetics, or clothes which was usually enjoyable and fun! But I suppose grocery shopping was one of those boring chores that just had to be done regularly.
In order to dim the memory of my unexpectedly bad loss in the Valentine’s Final Elimination, I’d been throwing myself into my Track and Field training wholeheartedly, and my coach and I were pleased with my progress in the past couple of weeks. My speed, endurance and flexibility had improved a lot, and my body had never felt leaner and more trimmed.
Involuntary, my mind turned to dwell a little on FFF, and my recent bad spell of catfight losses. Since winning the title, I’d lost 3 out of 4 fights - a pretty shocking performance! Even if my win in Oct 2005 against Sharon was added, it was still huge loss rate of 60%! In a matter of a few fights, I’d gone from ‘hero’ to ‘zero’. Somewhere, somehow something was horribly wrong, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint where the problem lay. My semi-final elimination loss to Tina was nail-bitingly close, and some considered me extremely unlucky not to have won. The sad part, however, is that a loss is a loss!
Now Tina was champion, and I could hardly believe it! And really she is such a cream puff. All she has is a vampish look, a loud, nasty mouth and little fighting skills to speak of. To think I’d misjudged her so completely and had actually supported her in her title fight against Betty. I couldn’t help wonder why suddenly Tina and Sharon had come out of nowhere: to what could their sudden, inexplicable success be attributed? Were they perhaps using stimulants? That wouldn’t surprise me since they struck me as two nasty bitches who would stoop to any lengths to win. I may be a nasty bitch at times, but fundamentally I believed in ‘fairness’ in competition. (Of course, fighting dirty as I sometimes did, didn’t count, I chuckled to myself.)
Then I suddenly recalled the current shocker making its rounds in the catfighting world: both Tina and Sharon had crabs! Apparently Tina had given it to Sharon when they fought in the recent title match! Heavens, I shuddered. That was so disgusting! Thankfully, I’d come out cleanly in my encounter with both of those trashy sluts! Whoever faced them in future fights would certainly have to insist on a clean bill of health! Heh, heh. Perhaps my current low ranking was really a blessing in disguise and that I wouldn’t have to fight any of the two again, certainly not in the near future.
Back to the present. For a change, I wore some make-up, and was surprised how beautiful it made me feel, and couldn’t help thinking that maybe I needed to do it more often. I was also dressed especially sexily to lift my slightly depressed mood in a white, cream outfit, which contrasted nicely with my smooth, tanned skin. After a full body massage, a pedicure, and a bikini, leg and underarm wax yesterday I felt as smooth and sleek like a new-born. A short white mini-skirt and matching leather boots displayed my slim, athletic legs perfectly, and a short top allowed me to show off my flat, tanned stomach. Compared to most of the other women in the supermarket, most of whom looked rather like dowdy old housewives, I felt like a hot fashion model from a glamour magazine. And why not flaunt it, I smiled and thought, as I tossed my hair provocatively while a presumably married couple walked by. I felt a naughty teasiness stir within me when I noted the appreciative look of the man!
At the dairy products, I selected some yoghurt, cheese and milk, and at the vegetables I got some crisp lettuce, carrots and a cucumber. As I put the cucumber in the basket, it suddenly struck me how much it resembled a large dildo, and the deliciously naughty thought involuntarily caused a warm flush to rise to my cheeks. Now why did I think of that? Sometimes I really shocked myself! I looked around quickly, hoping there weren’t any mind-readers around (as if they really existed!) and walked away.
But I couldn’t quite get the dirty thought out of mind as I walked through the supermarket, maybe because Heather and I had not had sex for almost a week! I felt that familiar, lusty, tingling in my erogenous regions hmmm! I smiled a little lewdly to myself - I definitely need to convince Heather to take a break from her studies tonight!
One problem I found with hard physical exercise was that it tended to raise my already healthy libido, unless of course I was really too tired and exhausted, like after a major competition, marathon or iron woman competition. Maybe it was all the adrenaline and endorphins released by the excitement of exercising competing and extending oneself physically daily.
In the fruit section I got some nice bananas, strawberries, peaches, a paw-paw, and an orange. Hmm? Maybe tonight we could have some fruit salad and ice cream for a change? After all, glancing down my slim body, I smiled to myself, I can afford to indulge in some dessert from time to time!
On the way back to the dairy section, I also collected toothpaste, an Adidas for Active Women can of deodorant for myself and a Tommy Girl for Heather, a box of tampons and pads, as my next period was only a couple of days away. And no girl wants the embarrassment of being caught unawares.
As I leaned over the fridge to look through and select the right ice cream, I saw a guy on the opposite side surreptitiously glancing down my low cut cleavage, my small, petite breasts appearing larger than they actually were - thanks to the wonder of my new push-up bra! Casually pretending not to notice I continued rummaging longer than necessary before finally selecting a carton of ice-cream. As I stood up, I directly looked him in the eye, and smiled, feeling a thrill course through me as I noticed an immediate blush appear in his neck upwards. Silently, I giggled in shame, poor guy! Men were just such helpless victims of their hormones! But I hoped I’d made his day a little more exciting and better.
Finally, I got some soda, and since I now had everything I walked over the tills, but saw with dismay that only two tills were open, and that the queues were long. Feeling a little disgruntled, I took my position at the back of the shortest queue, impatiently preparing for a longish wait. To make matters worse, our line was suddenly stalled, while a shop attendant went to look for the price of an unmarked item a customer had chosen.
Finally, after about 15 minutes I was next in line at the till, when suddenly a sexy, hot looking red-haired girl, rushed forward, pushing her way in front of me, mumbling apologetically: “Sorry, sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry, I have an appointment at a beauty salon and you won’t mind, now would you?”
Of course, I minded! Bloody hell! And I reached forward angrily to grab her by the shoulder, turning her around, saying angrily: “SORRY! But we’ve all been patiently waiting our turn so you can go to the back of the queue like all of us here have done!”
As she turned round, I recognized that it was Natasha from FFF, or Tasha, as she was fondly referred to by her fans, and she said cockily as her eyes widened as she recognized me, putting her hands in her hips: “Oh, Kayla! And WHO is going to make me go to the back of the queue? Not YOU?”, her lip curling scornfully as she deliberately taunted me.
Needless to say I lost my cool completely, succumbing to a newly identified syndrome aptly called ‘queue rage’, and gave her a hard, stinging slap across the face, her head jerking to the side sharply.
I hissed angrily: “Take that, you fucking bitch! Now be a good girl, and get to the back of the line!!!”
Tasha touched her reddening cheek gingerly and looked at me and smiled tauntingly: “I’d hoped you’d be fool enough to do that! I’ve been looking forward to taking you down! And this is as good a place as any! Right here in front of all these people, Kayla! I’m so going to enjoy beating and stripping you naked before them!”
Neither of us was dressed for the occasion. Tasha actually looked quite alluring, dressed as she was in a skintight white dress, lowcut in front and just above her ass in the back, with matching white beaded choker and short, white cowboy boots. Her hair was in pigtails, which made her look more like a teenager. Like me she had on lipstick and nail polish, hardly dressed for a catfight! But there could be no backing down now. The gauntlet had been thrown down.
A small but boisterous crowd quickly gathered around us and much to my surprise, Mr. Chain was amongst them. By coincidence he too was shopping in the same supermarket and saw what was going on. I carefully put down my shopping basket and handbag, and we started circling each other warily, realizing that this fight was not only for pride, but also on the record in the FFF.
By the way Tasha’s breasts were jiggling I realized the slut was not wearing a bra. Doesn’t matter, I thought to myself, I would’ve torn her bra off any way, if she’d worn one. I just couldn’t wait to get stuck into those inviting, ripe targets.
Our respective stats suddenly flashed through my mind.
Tasha: 20 y/o, 5 foot, 6 inches, 120 pounds, 34C-24-36, 1 win, 1 loss.
Myself: 24 y/o, 5 foot 9 inches, 140 pounds, 36A-25-35, 4 wins, 4 losses.
This was going to be a make-or-break fight, both of us having a 50% win record and the same ranking, the loser would be going down low in the rankings. We were obviously very evenly matched, though I had a slight advantage in height, weight and experience. But in any catfight, especially one under such varied conditions, these facts didn’t really matter. I knew I had a tough fight ahead of me, but was confident that I would triumph.
Both of us moved closer and sent out a flurry of tentative blows to the other’s face, but none landed, either missing or blocked, Despite my determination to win, I felt a twinge of admiration for the bitch: at least she was no novice. All the more, a challenge to take her down and humiliate her!
Then I feigned to the left and sent out a fast right jab directly to Tasha’s face, but she surprised me by her anticipation and ducked beneath the blow, diving forward tackling me around the waist, sending both of us crashing into a stack of oranges. A roar went up from the crowd as oranges rolled all over the supermarket floor!
I felt my short, tight skirt ripping in the process, parting along the seam with a loud rip. Snarling, Tasha smashed her fist into my surprised face knocking me back down. She got to her feet, and gave me a wicked kick to the gut as I writhed on the floor, and sneered, “See, I’m the better woman!”, and assuming the fight was over, turned to move back to the till, to finish her transaction.
But I was made of sterner stuff than that. I coughed and rolled to my knees before spotting the streaky redhead impatiently tapping her foot at the till while the wide-eyed cashier rang up her purchase. Reaching across the till from the other side, I grabbed the bitch by her pigtails at the back of her head and tugged back violently. As Tasha arched back over the till, flashing her white spandex thong as she did so, I brought my forearm down hard across the girl’s 36C chest sending her sliding to the floor behind the till.
Moving round the till I found the little tart, a little shaken on her bum, surprise evident in her face. “Right bitch, time to sort you out”, I snapped, grabbing Tasha’s hair again and dragging her from behind the counter causing her to crawl with a tearing sensation through her scalp.
In agony and desperation, the slut grabbed at my already torn skirt and tugged hard gaining reward from the further ripping sound, causing it to slide down and me to stumble to my knees. Tasha then grabbed my hair and shoved my face down hard against a metal shelf filled with tinned foods. Luckily for me the shelving collapsed and so the potential damage was reduced and I rolled to the floor and ended up on my back as Tasha scrambled to her feet. But I kicked the streaky redhead’s legs from under her and she ended up stumbling over the frozen foods refrigerator before crashed back to the floor. The pair of us grappled to our hands and knees slapping at each other and ripping at each other’s hair.
By this time word had gotten round to FFF, and soon all the regulars were there, watching eagerly and shouting encouragement; Tom, Doug, Tina, Betty, Sharon, Ruth, Joan, Jenny, etc. Doug even had a handy cam out shooting a video of it all!
Soon vicious clouting slaps were cracking off each other’s faces as each tried to dominate the other and then ripping at each other’s clothing in an attempt to topple the other over. It was Tasha who changed tactics first clenching her right fist she landed a punch on my face, catching me on the cheek and spinning me into a pile of cereal boxes scattering them across the floor. I quickly scrambled to my feet kicking myself free from my torn skirt and shrugging off my shredded top leaving me in just my lacy, cream coloured bra, matching thongs and boots.
For an insane moment, I recalled how much I’d paid for this particular set, and it wasn’t cheap! I also remembering thinking this morning as I admired myself in my underwear in the mirror how sexy I looked, my long, rosy nipples and thick dark bush just visible through the transparent material. What a pity it was that one had to hide such nice underwear under one’s clothes! But my gawd, this was not what I had in mind at all! Not like this: in the middle of a fucking supermarket! However, perversely, the thought of the crowd leering at me made my nipples hard as my excitement mounted.
Tasha scrambled to her feet kicking a box of cereal across the floor, her own shredded dress dropping to the floor as she tugged it off to show her white spandex thong. Some raucous catcalls went up as we again circled each other half-nude, and I suppose from their perspective we did present a titillating panorama. Grimly I resolved to give the tart a severe public thrashing for her rude and bitter attacks.
However, Tasha was the first to score. She hit me with an open palm crack across the face. The slap echoed round the supermarket like gun fire and rocked me sideways until Tasha grabbed my long black hair and tugged me back into another cracking slap across the other cheek before she jabbed her finger straight into my navel.
