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The Catpin Chronicles (Series)

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Offline FyreCracka

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The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« on: November 29, 2021, 07:19:30 AM »
The Catpin Chronicles

Various accounts of the battles between the women who wear 'Catpins'.

  This goal of this series is to provide a different perspective on the fights that have taken place in the 'Catpin' Universe of Fyre's and Kiva's Fight Journals. I mean this quite literally as many of the chapters here will be from the perspectives of other characters found in our stories.

  My hope is that this series will provide some more depth for some of your favorite characters not named Kiva or Kelli. You may even see some new fights that don't have either of us in them!

  Finally, I'd also like to use this series to give some of the readers who  would also like to try their hand at writing. That's right, say one of you just happened to be at Billy's the night I fought Jolene and wanted to give us all a recounting of what you saw. The only ask I have is that you let us know beforehand (and if you want to ask any questions to fill in any gaps, we will probably be more than happy to help out).

  You can also feel free to suggest stories from certain characters that you'd like to know more about. These stories won't be any particular order or anything as this is more of a supplement than anything else- purely a collection of catfights. Hopefully y'all will like seeing some familiar things through different sets of eyes. Enjoy!
Fyre: a 5' 5 1/2", 130lbs, 39 years old, blonde hair and brown eyed brawler.

If you're interested in being in a story feel free to contact us.

We are now on Trillian: Fyrecracka

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Offline FyreCracka

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #1 on: November 29, 2021, 07:20:58 AM »
Catpin Chronicles, Chapter 1: Matriarchal Mayhem
As told by Damini Doshi

   "Fuck!... it's so fucking hot in this damn state..." I grumble out loud as finish setting up a "For Sale" sign at this large lake house. At least, mother and my older sister, Uma were right about the housing market .... it's just as hot as this August weather. This property should fetch us another nice profit. These dumb Texans won't know what hit them when the Doshi's take over this whole area.

  "What the fu-" I blurt out as a damn blonde in a jeep goes barreling by my, sending a cloud of dust all over my pink blouse and black skirt as she drive towards the house. This bitch has no idea who she's fucking with. This heat already has me pissed off and it's not like any of us are known for our patience or tolerance.

  I stomp towards, screaming all manner of obscenities at the woman in the jeep, who has parked in front of our latest project and is now leaning against her vehicle casually, her flip flop dangling off of her inbred big toe.  She looks like the typical loser moms around here, wearing a pair of cutoffs with her stupid flip flops and a green tank top with a black sports bra underneath. Her dumb blonde hair tied in a ponytail sticking out the back of a ballcap with the high school's mascot on it. What the fuck is this bitch thinking?

  I get within twenty yards or so and I'm sure she can hear me so I really let her have it. "You... dumb... fucking... blonde... idiot-" I pause my rant when I see the sun glinting off of the catpin affixed to her tank top. "Oh... I see now. If this is what this is about, you are dumber than I though." I snap at this moronic cxnt. I'm going to give her the ass beating she so richly deserves.

  The blonde saunters up to me with a stereotypical Texas bravado. "Maybe I am... but what are you gonna do about it?" The woman drawls on with her annoying accent. She stops mere inches from me. This bitch is just begging for it.

  If this bimbo thinks she can intimidate me, she's out of her fucking mind. "Follow me inside and I'll show you, slut!" I snap back, turning towards the big metal double front door. I can feel my excitement building as I size up this new victim. She's maybe half an inch taller and I'd estimate we weigh just about the same. Similar sized chest and probably five years older than my 34 years.

  I hold the door as she walks into the home. For a moment we are chest to chest. Her brown eyes are staring, unblinkingly, into mine. "Last chance, Tex... leave now- or get your ass kicked." I growl.

  The blonde presses her chest back into mine. She even grabs the door from my hand and slams it shut with a loud clang. "I'm sure you'll try, sweetie... but, I'm not goin' anywhere." The woman replies in her dumb accent. "What's your name anyway?... I'm Kelli Rose... we gotta make this official."

  "My name's Damini... Damini Doshi... it was on the fucking sign next to my picture, you dumb hick." I snarl back as we start to log into the app.

  "Hold up!" I hear a familiar voice yelling from the door to the backyard. I let out an frustrated sigh. The voice belongs to my older sister, Uma. She is dressed nearly identical to me with black skirt and red blouse as we were going to do some promotional pictures in this house.

 "Damini, you know it's my turn!" She barks. My sister is three years older, two inches taller and five pounds heavier. She was always more athletic but I am meaner. While she has beaten me more than I have beaten her, the margin has tightened some in the last few years and I am not simply going to defer to her wishes this time.

  "Uma... I saw her first- she nearly ran me over outside!" I argue. It may be her turn but I deserve to be the one to beat this bitch's ass.

"No, no little sister, it's MY turn." I hate when she uses the big sister angle. "Plus... you know how I love... to ... beat... the fuck ... out of blondes." Uma says as she struts around Kelli and I confidently.

"C'mon... she already fucking challenged ME!" I retort as we get in each other's space. We start jostling for position. Lightly pushing each other and grabbing one another's hair. I nearly want to fight her as much as I do the blonde. It's about time for me to take her spot. She's getting soft. I can take her.

  Then the stupid blonde inserts herself. "As much as I'm enjoying you two relive your bratty childhood, I'd like to have a fight sometime this mornin'. Listen, I don't care which one of you I kick the hell out of, just pick one.... shit, give me enough time, I'll stomp a mud hole in both of your asses." This arrogant hick cxnt so needs her face rubbed in the dirt. She seriously can't think that she is on my level, can she?

  "Mom! .... Aunt Damini!...." the young voice of my niece, Advika, echoes off of the walls as she marches in from the kitchen dressed in a black camisole and beige shorts. "You know that I only need ONE more fight to get my pin!"

  I have to remember that Advika is no longer a child. She is 19 now. As tall as her mother, leaner and even more athletic. Since her father is a white man, she is considerably lighter than either her mother or I. She also inherited those blue eyes from him. I watched her first two fights and she is a gifted fighter even if her model like looks would suggest otherwise. Despite all of her potential, I have a feeling that this blonde would devour her in a fight though. She needs to leave this one to Uma or I.

  "Advika! This doesn't concern you... except to watch and learn." Uma scolds her daughter before I can speak.

  "Ya gotta be kiddin' me!" The blonde exclaims. "I should have packed a lunch...".  She stands with her hands on her hips, tapping her flip flop clad foot on the marble floor.

"Girls... girls.... that'll be enough!" All four of our heads whip towards the top of the stairs. My mother, Ishita, stands there with a stern look for a moment before beginning to slink down the stairs like an alley cat, dressed in a black suit with a pink button down blouse.

  Mother is still in fantastic shape, even at 55 years old.  She slinks down the stairs confidently like a tigress dressed in a dark suit with a pink button down blouse, her catpin shining brightly. She is close to two inches shorter than the blonde but probably outweighs her by five pounds or so. I know she is strong, tough and more skilled than any of us from personal experience as I have never beaten her in any of our fights.

  Great. Mother will understand that I should be the one that gets to destroy this blonde Texas slut.   "But mommy!.... I saw her first!" I plead. Surely she will understand that I deserve this.

  Uma quickly steps in front of me, "But it's my turn, mommy!" my older sister whines. While that may be true since my tussle with that Persian bitch was the last fight any of us had, but that was right after we moved here- and this bimbo nearly ran me over. I should have the first shot.

  Next, Advika hops in front of all of us "I only need one more fight for my pin... and she's BLONDE!" Uma needs to get control of her oldest child. There are plenty of blondes around here for her to earn her catpin against... besides, it should be one closer to her own age.

  "Silence, Uma... Quiet, Damini.... Hush Advika... I want this one...I just arrived a few days ago and haven't had a chance to crush one of you Texans." Mother says as she walks past us and struts her way directly in front of Kelli. "Don't mind my daughters and granddaughter.. they get excited when someone as brazenly stupid as you volunteers to be destroyed by a Doshi woman."

  Mother eyes the Texan up and down, deftly evaluating her like a property she is about to bid on. "I am Ishita Doshi.... I'm the matriarch of this family and this company. You'll be fighting me.... though I'm sure any one of them would have you begging for mercy.... and I do find it tempting to consider watching Advika earn her pin against such a pretty... at least by the local standards... specimen."

  This is too good. It's a rare treat to get to see mother annihilate another woman. Usually she is content to test one of us or any of our many cousins. In fact, it has been close to a year since we had the pleasure of watching her fight anyone outside the family. It was quite a battle but when it was over, she had the Latina owner of a chain of Mexican restaurants begging for mercy. We won that family battle two wins to one loss. Unfortunately, I was the one loss, but I still say that bitch got lucky.

  I glance at Uma and Advika. All of us are even more excited to see mother claim this fight than any of us getting it. We all exchange smiles and nudges as we whisper about what mother will do to this dumb hick cxnt. 

 "Whatever... as long as I get to put a beatin' on one of ya... oh and I'm Kelli... Kelli Rose." The blonde rudely interrupts with her stupid drawl. I can't wait to watch mommy make this cowgirl cry.

  "So... Mrs. Rose, how would you like for me to defeat you today?" Mother says calmly. She is the picture of quiet confidence. So poised and ready to show this twat what a Doshi woman can do.

  The pretty blonde rubs her jaw for a moment before answering. "Seeing as the nature of your work requires you to be presentable, Mrs. Doshi.  How about slaps only to the face, everything is legal below the neck? Loser admits her inferiority... and gives up her unmentionables... And since this is your place, I'll defer to you on where and attire."

  "There's that proud Texas attitude I've heard so much about... I'm going to enjoy this, cowgirl..." That's it mommy. You tell this dirty skank. All of that arrogance is about to be crushed. I can't wait.

  "Your terms are acceptable... we will battle in the backyard. Don't mind the mess, we are putting in a pool... almost a necessity with this cursed heat you people live with and the pit they have dug will be a fitting arena for us. " Mother puts her finger to her bottom lip, tapping it and looking over the soon to be disgraced blonde before continuing. "Topless... underwear only. No need to ruin this suit. Uma, Damini, get the cameras... Advika, find some towels, getting a little muddy will be a small price to pay to not destroy the lawn." Mother is so cool and calculating. Even thinking of our business at a time like this. She is definitely going to bring her 'A' game. Kelli Rose has no idea what she is in for.

  We all scurry off, following mother's orders to the letter as her and the blonde make their way to the future site of the pool. Uma and I return with the cameras just as Kelli finishes tying her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She is decently built with an attractive body, a little leaner than my own. I hate to admit it but the baby blue cotton panty clad Texan looks like she could be tough. I watch her descend first into the 'pit'.

  As mother walks towards the pit, I look down at the blonde in what is about to be today's arena. The thick, claylike mud isn't deep but it looks slick and treacherous. Hopefully that will negate any speed advantage that the younger woman may have. Mother is a nasty fighter when she gets on the ground. That, I can attest to. This is going to be great. She'll have the blonde covered with the slimy muck and trapped beneath her- where she belongs, in no time! The sooner the better, as the August sun in this cursed state is quite oppressive.

  Mother stands at the edge of the pit, her arms out and head pointing towards the sky as Uma, Advika and I remove her clothes ritualistically, leaving her in only a frilly pair of pink panties that contrast sharply with her rich brown skin. She looks the part of a Queen about to dispatch an uppity servant as she climbs down into the pit and stands across from the blonde Texan.

  Mother stands across from the rude, yellow haired idiot in the mud. I can see them both evaluating one another one last time before their battle commences. Obviously, I am doing the same, comparing them, seeing the advantages and disadvantages of each woman.

  At 55, Mother is significantly older than the 39 year old mouthbreather. The blonde is close to 2 inches taller but mother has a good 10 pounds or so on the most likely weaker bitch. Her beautiful jet black hair with a single gray strip is tied in a tight braid while her opponent's golden hair swings back and forth with every movement while in a ponytail. She definitely looks more soft and feminine than the blonde- not to mention she has a bigger chest, too. And don't get me started about how much better looking her bronze skin is compared to this hick's nearly two tone farmer's tan.

  Further accentuating Mother's higher status than this lowly piece of trash is their nails. My mother's are finely manicured pink weapons that are about to expertly extract screams from her opponent. While Kelli's are trimmed short like man's ... like she is some common field worker. Which is curious as she is easily pretty enough to attract a man capable of earning enough for her to not have to do such things.

  Uma and I have our cameras rolling as the two women limber up. Mother is getting a feel for the muddy field when she looks at Kelli and gives the blonde one last chance to avoid humiliation at the hands of a clearly superior woman. "I feel I should offer you one last chance to save yourself some pain, cowgirl... kneel before me, surrender your undergarments and you may walk out of here with only a slightly bruised ego"

  Mother's offer of mercy is predictably met with rudeness and disrespect as the blonde answers. "You're joking, right grandma-"

  The idiot is cut off mid word as Mother's right hand spins the younger woman's head around with a hard slap.

  "Insolent bitch!... time to teach you some... respect-" This time Kelli is the one delivering a slap to Mother's cheek, sending her staggering backwards a few steps.

  "Now we're even..." the bitchy blonde snaps with a smirk before raising a hand to invite my mother to a test of strength. "Let's see what ya got, old woman!"

  Mother is going to hurt this dumb cxnt. No one gets away with disrespecting her like that. There's no way this weak blonde will be stronger. Mother huffs before moving cautiously towards her opponent- I wouldn't trust the Texan either. The two women begin interlocking their fingers. As soon as both hands are locked the two women grunt and groan as the strain to prove who is stronger. They are stomping around the mud in a stalemate. I'm shocked that the blonde is able to compete. Mother is so strong.

  I watch intently, waiting for my mother to start overpowering this local bitch, but to my shock, Mother's arms are the ones that begin to quiver and shake.  Kelli begins to outmuscle Mother, bending the older woman's wrists backwards. I see Ishita dig her nails into the white woman's skin eliciting a quick curse of "Bitch!" before the younger woman continues to slowly push my mother towards the muddy ground.

  Just before my mother's knee is forced to the earth, she snarls and twists her body causing both women to tumble into the slimy ooze. Their hands remain locked together as they begin to writhe and slither against one another in a muddy body to body catball. Their bodies become covered with the mud as they roll to and fro trying to pin the other woman. They release each other's hands and the fight is really on as they lock on to each other's hair. Their bodies slip and slide against one another's. I watch as Mother's bigger, heavier breasts press against the small chested blonde's. Such an inferior woman. It's just a matter of time before Mother overtakes her.

  I hear both of the women beginning to let out groans and screams as I watch them get more desperate, digging their nails into any body part they can latch onto. Mauling each other's tits and bellies, scratching throats and asses. Both women trying to inflict as much pain as possible to the other. I've never seen anyone hurt mother like this piece of trailer trash. Surely the blonde will be the first to break.

  The two women continue their savage and brutal battle for supremacy. Grappling and wrestling to gain control as they roll back and forth until their contrasting skin colors meld into the same light brown tone as the muck of the pit. I can feel the cursed Texas sun beating down on me as I watch this bitchy battle and I know it has to be worse for my older mother down in the pit. I can already see their frenetic pace beginning to slow. Mother needs to hurt this yokel and end this before the her age becomes a factor.

  My stomach is tying itself in knots as I watch the blonde begin to overpower Mother. Ishita looks exhausted and in trouble as Kelli plants her on her back, firmly into the soft mud, laying in a full body pin atop my poor mother. This can't be.

  "Well now, Mrs. Doshi, I feel I should offer you the chance to submit now and save yourself further embarrassment." The vile white whore snarls mockingly from her top position.

   "Fuck... you.... blonde.... cxnt!" Mother screams as she begins to struggle frantically. Her feet slipping and sliding as they fail to gain any traction and the blonde continues to keep her planted firmly on her back. Uma, Advika and I exchange worried looks as we continue to film the fight. We are all facing the fact that this trashy Texas bitch has the matriarch of our family in serious trouble.

  "Not.... very polite of you... Maybe I should teach you a little about Texas manners." Kelli taunts as she slams Mother's hands down with a confident authority, reestablishing her pin.  I can see my mother squirming angrily beneath the blonde but she is planted firmly in the muddy earth, unable to escape. Surely this isn't the end, my mother is better than this whore. She can't lose to her. Don't give up, mommy! I think to myself.

  I knew it! Mother is so tough. She refuses to give up. She keeps fighting and is able to twist one hand free. Her perfectly manicured nails find the Texan's undersized breast causing her howls in pain as my mother sinks her claws deep into the Texas twat's tiny tit. Ishita follows up with a wild flurry of motion that dislodges Kelli from her mount and the two women tumble back into the muck, rolling around again.

  As the two catball through the thick sludge, my mother seems to have found the blonde bitch's weakness, sinking her long manicured talons into her shoulders, arms, chest- anything she can. Kelli screams in pain as the roll around, she is trying to reciprocate but the low class woman's shorter nails aren't nearly as effective. It looks like Mother is beginning to mount a comeback. Using her claws to tear at the younger woman's skin like the skillful tigress that she is! I knew she would beat this country cxnt.

  That's it mother! You're getting the better of her now! I think as I see my mother ripping Kelli and beginning to slowly take control as they sloppily splash in the slime. Then, the devious Texan takes a handful of the nasty tan ooze and screeches. "Eat... this... bitch!" as she shoves the slimy shit into Ishita's open, panting mouth.

  Uma, Advika and I let out a mixture of gasps and curses as we see Mother coughing, sputtering and gagging as she tries to clear the filth out of her mouth. The blonde capitalizes on the dirty distraction, pouncing on Ishita and knocking her onto her back. Kelli's hands clamp down on mother's biceps, leaving her claws scratching harmlessly at the air. The bitch then starts moving into a mount but mother is able to trap one of her legs. She'll never give up!

  In the ensuing struggle, the trailer park twat hits mother's crotch with her knee causing the older woman to gasp in pain. Next, that fucking blonde bitch sends another one to my mother's pussy. Ishita groans out loudly. I can tell she is in an immense amount of pain.

  "What's the... matter granny... your old twat... not used to taking.... a good... pounding?" The vile cxnt hisses before sending knee after knee towards my mother's womanhood until she is lying listlessly in the mud. My jaw drops in horrified shock. This can't be! Mother is helpless now, she's not even trying to fight back. The younger woman looks the destroyed woman over smugly before she rises to her feet.

  Mother lies writhing and moaning on her back in the mud as Kelli wipes the sludge from her body, flinging it to ground with a splat. Advika, Uma and I are yelling encouragement to mother, trying to will her to get back in the fight. The blonde glares up at us from the pit before shouting "Make sure... y'all get... a good shot ... of this!"

  What a fucking disrespectful, arrogant bitch! Mother has made it back to her hands and knees by the time Kelli turns her attention back to her.

  Mother is struggling just to stay on all fours. She is in pain and in trouble. I can do nothing as I see Kelli draw back and deliver a soccer kick to her already battered nether regions that lands with a sickening smack. Ishita collapses face first blubbering in the mud as she massages her aching private parts.

  The blonde saunters arrogantly over to my mother, taking her time before straddling mother. She drops onto Ishita's lower back driving a pained gasp from the older woman's lips. Next, she grabs my mother's braid and pulls her face from the mud. "You ready ... to surrender now... Mrs. Doshi?" Kelli confidently growls, pulling the braid to add pressure to mother's neck.

  Mother lets out a loud moan of pain. She plants her hands in the mud and pushes up to try to alleviate some of the pressure. Kelli keeps pulling in the modified camel clutch. Ishita is groaning as she continues to arch her back until her tits come out of the much with a loud sucking sound. "Go... to... hell... cxnt!" My mother grunts out defiantly through gritted teeth.

  I'm a mix of emotions at hearing my mother continue to defy the Texan her victory. Proud of her grit but worried and not wanting to see the blonde hurt her even more.

  Kelli seems incensed at my mother's refusal to submit. Her nostrils flare and her face contorts angrily before she hops to her feet. Her knuckles still clenched around my mother's braided hair. Violently she uses the older woman's hair to flip her onto her back. Then, menacingly drops onto her belly in a schoolgirl pin. The sadistic slut traps my mother's arms beneath her shins and her left hand clamps around the proud Indian woman's jaw. A feeling of dread washes over my entire body when I see her right hand reach back, her nails digging into my mother's already brutalized pussy. I doubt I'll ever hear anything as terrifying as the bloodcurdling scream that my mother let out when Kelli's claws extracted their revenge.

  "Now... before I hurt you... more than any other woman.... ever has... I'm going to ask you... one ... more... time.... Do. You. Fucking. Give?" Kelli growls with a rage I've seldom seen from another woman. In this moment I know that I've just witnessed another woman conquer my mother.

  Quietly and meekly I hear my mother softly moan "I give."

  "That's not ... fucking good enough... bitch!" Kelli roars in response. The cruel cxnt digs her fingers into mother once more.

  "I give!.... I give.... you win!" Ishita blurts out, completely at the mercy of the blonde. She exhales mightily as Kelli eases the pressure of the hold on her intimate bits.

  "...and?" The torturous Texan continues. "Make sure... they... hear it!" She commands glancing up at us from the pit as we watch in a stunned, horrified silence.

  "I surrender.... to Mrs. Rose.... she is the superior woman..." Mother says clearly and loudly. Her voice still sounding surprisingly poised even if there is a hint of a tremble in it. I want to look away from the scene but can't. I watch as mother's tears wash away some of the mud splattered on her face.

  Kelli leans down and whispers something to mother. Mother, already regaining her composure, looks up at us and commands "Grand daughter... get the hose... and clean Mrs. Rose and I off..". Advika wastes no time, running and fetching a water hose. My niece proceeds to shower the two combatants with the cool, clean water.

  I can see both of them are enjoying the refreshing break from the heat as the mud is rinsed from their bodies. The two warriors who were nearly indistinguishable with their bodies both covered in the same tan sludge begin to look like themselves again.  I can't help but notice how Kelli's victory is further cemented now that I can see her paler skin shining in the sunlight as she looms above my darker skinned mother.

  "That'll do, Advika.." Mother says telling my niece to cut the water. My heart sinks even before Kelli plants her still muddy foot on Ishita's freshly rinsed chest. Runny mud now trickles down my mother's body as it makes it way to the puddle that has formed around the defeated older woman.

  The insufferable yellow haired twat breaks from posing over my conquered mother long enough to glare down and command ""Now... give me what you owe me...".

  It kills me to watch my mother as she can't even look her conqueror in the eyes as she shimmies out of her panties and hands them to the blonde. Who now resumes her victory pose while holding the mud soaked trophy. I am numb as I dutifully keep recording the disgusting spectacle on my camera.

 With the match completely over, Uma and I give each other a reaffirming nod. We can stop filming and see to our mother now. We both climb down into the pit to check on Mother. I feel the mud getting all over my expensive outfit but it is inconsequential. I have more in my closet at home. Now we have to console mother. Uma and I can't keep from crying as we watch our mother sitting, stripped naked and defeated in the mud, sobbing as she hangs her head in shame. I know she has lost fights before but none of us have ever witnessed it happen. She has always been so invincible.

  Uma can't take anymore and turns to the topless blonde. "You'll pay for this.... you.... you... blonde bitch!" My sister screams at Kelli before turning back to our mother. "It will be alright, mommy... I'll hurt her. I promise."

  I'm a mix of anger, fear and sadness. I can't stop sobbing uncontrollably. I wipe my tears, smearing my mascara in the process. I rise from comforting Mother and glare at Kelli Rose. I'm boiling over now, shaking with raw emotion. "I will fucking beat your fucking ass right fucking now, fucking cowgirl cxnt." I don't care about the fucking rules. I'm going to hurt this bitch. She has to pay for doing this to my mother. Even if it costs me my Catpin.

"Calm yourself, child.... you know the rules... let her go.... she... won." Mother says, putting her hand on my calf. It calms me. As much as I want to bury this whore in the mud out here, I know she is right and I wouldn't dare defy mother's command, anyway. Uma and I return to taking care of her. She is going to need us.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Kelli climb out of the pit. I can hear the despicable ditz bark at Advika to finish rinsing her off. I hear the water turn back on as she obeys. This bitch thinks she owns our entire family. It won't happen today, but I won't rest until that arrogant blonde is laying defeated beneath the sole of my foot.

  About thirty seconds later I hear Advika bark "You like this.. bitch!?" What is going on up there?

  Next, I hear Kelli's voice rising in anger. "You do not want to do this little girl!" That doesn't sound good. Uma and I look at each other. We have to see what is going on.

Before we can get up, I hear Advika's voice, shaking with fear, "I... I... know the rules... you old skank... you're lucky.... I'd ... I'd...". Oh no. I just watched that woman dominate the toughest woman I've ever known, she'll absolutely devour my niece.

   "You'd what, little girl?" Kelli interrupts her mid sentence.

  Uma and I barely make it to our feet before we hear Advika's voice, quivering with fear. "I'll ... I'll... fuck ... you.... u-u-up".  Stupid girl. Just shut up. We will get even with her soon enough.

   My sister and I begin to scramble up the side of the pit. I see the altercation just before the blonde answers. "You really don't want to take an ass whipping' that won't get you your pin... this is for your own good.." Kelli barks just before she uses one arm to shove my niece towards the pit.

  Advika stumbles past my fingers and over my head as she falls into the muddy pit, landing on her belly with a loud smacking sound. She rolls onto her back whipping the mud from her face as she snarls. "Bitch... fucking ... bitch!... I'm going to-"

  Ishita's commanding voice cracks through humid August air stopping Advika's rant.   "You're going to let her leave, child... you all are." Uma and I stare at one another. The day's fighting is finished. All four of us stare up at the smirking Kelli Rose as she watches us wallowing around like pigs in the mud with a smug and satisfied look on her dumb face.

  She continues to keep an eye on us as she finishes hosing the mud from her body. Mother keeps us all down in the steamy mud until we are sure she is gone. It's utterly humiliating. We owe that woman an ass kicking. It will happen. The only question is which of us will be the lucky woman that gets to do it.
Fyre: a 5' 5 1/2", 130lbs, 39 years old, blonde hair and brown eyed brawler.

If you're interested in being in a story feel free to contact us.

We are now on Trillian: Fyrecracka

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Offline Kiva

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #2 on: November 29, 2021, 08:03:05 PM »
Excellent start. I always loved the alternate point of view story to make characters more 3-dimensional. I have a few completed stories: Cynthia vs. Deanna, and Kelli vs. Grace, told by Grace (FFJ, Ch 17, War On Water’s Edge) which I’ll post in the near future. I hope this thread will be largely reader driven with readers suggesting characters and stories, and even seeing this thread as an opportunity to write their own catpin universe story.
Don’t bother walking a mile in my shoes. That would be boring. Spend thirty seconds in my head. That’ll freak you right out.

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Offline papillon

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #3 on: December 03, 2021, 06:27:30 PM »
I can't understand why the Doshis don't like you, Kelli – you've always seemed perfectly charming to me – but she doesn't mince her words, this Damini, does she? "typical loser mom", " dumb... fucking... blonde... idiot", "bimbo", "dumb hick", "blonde Texas slut", "dumb hick cxnt", … Quite a way with words she has! I particularly loved the "Texas twat's tiny tit". And knowing now how much she detests you, to think you made her kiss your …
(But that was another time and another place).
Imagine what fun it would be living next to these Doshis! You wouldn't need UFC Fight Pass. You wouldn't even need a television! Every night would be Fight Night. Kelli, you've got to tell us about Damini's tussle with the Persian bitch. Or the night, her mother fought the owner of a Mexican restaurant chain (and rang her taco bell!). And you absolutely have now to take down Uma to complete the set! I bet she's telling herself, and telling all the others, how she's going to be the one to rescue the family honour. But does she really believe it? She's taller, heavier and more athletic than Damini, and she's exactly your age, so in theory she should be the hardest of the lot to beat, but my guess is that in her head she's already beaten. She'll be dynamite for the first five minutes and then she'll crack. Doesn't mean it won't be fun to watch though. If God didn't put estate agents on this earth for them to be beaten up by cowgirls, then I'm sure I don't know what his idea was.
This story was brilliant the first time but seeing it from another angle adds to the fun. From inside Damini's head, you see she's positively drooling at the prospect of watching her mother "make the cowgirl cry", but in the end, they're the ones left "wallowing around like pigs in the mud" (all four of them!) and the cowgirl's the only one who isn't in tears.
Well ain't that a shame!
   
« Last Edit: December 03, 2021, 06:37:17 PM by papillon »

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Offline Kiva

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #4 on: December 07, 2021, 05:46:28 PM »
Chapter 2: Cynthia vs. Deanna by Joe Hallahan

Preface

These two women first appeared in KFJ. If you’re not familiar with KFJ, here’s a quick background. Deanna is a physical therapist at my hospital where I work as a nurse. She relocated from New York to Texas with her fiancé. She is very attractive but a rude, uncouth, aggressive bully. She was Kelli’s opponent in KFJ Chapter 1.  https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=90742.0  You can read Kelli’s grittier version of the fight in FFJ Chapter 22 https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=78153.75

Cynthia is a native Texan. She is a national collegiate cheerleading champion, married to her college sweetheart Josh, a former college football star whose NFL career failed miserably. Now in their 30s, Cynthia and Josh are obsessed with reliving their long past college glory days. Cynthia is generally a nice person, but can get downright vicious if her buttons get pushed. NEVER suggest to her that she and her husband are has-beens. She was my opponent in Chapter 8 of KFJ. Let’s not go there. She fought Deanna prior to fighting me.

Joe Hallahan is the fictional narrator and Deanna’s fiancé.

You will notice plenty of New York City and Texas stereotyping and jokes in this story. It’s all in fun and only used to create conflict for a fight story. In truth, I lived most of my life not far from NYC and Texas has been my adopted home for the past several years (Yes, that part of KFJ is real.) I love both. Regional geographic and cultural variation is part of what makes America so wonderful. So please, no hate mail.

And now….

She's cold and she's cruel
But she knows what she's doin'
Knows just what to say
So my whole day is ruined
'Cause she's bittersweet
She knocks me off of my feet
And I can't help myself
I don't want anyone else
She's a mystery
She's too much for me
But I keep comin' back for more
She's just the girl I'm lookin' for
-The Click Five



“‘Scoose me, ‘scoose me, over here. Anybody gawnna take our order? I wanna see the manager. You should all have your asses fired.” My fiancée was growing impatient. No surprise there. Our plans were simple: dinner at the bar and grill, then a movie.

“Let’s go, let’s go, people. We want SERVICE!” Deanna continued. “Gawd, why are Texans so damn slow.”

“My name is Vickie, and I’ll be your waitress,” chirped the smiling thin waitress, her blond hair pulled back into a bun, accentuating her thin upbeat face. “Are y’all ready to order now?”

“Ready? Are you freakin’ kiddin’? And what’s with the ‘y’all’. Y’all this, ‘y’all that. Doesn’t anybody tawk right here? If I hear one more Texas drawl, I swear I’m gawnna scream.”

The waitress’ smile looked more plastic by the second as she withstood the abuse. Deanna is certainly assertive. Some would say aggressive. Sometimes she can even be boorish. Okay, I know, sometimes she can be a total bitch. The young waitress twitched nervously as she backed off in intimidation. Her head bobbed and her hands trembled slightly as she took our order. Deanna glared at her, relishing the head game she controlled with this young woman. The poor girl couldn’t get away from our table fast enough as she stammered, “I’ll be back shortly with your meal.”

“Don’t you think you should tone it down,” I suggested.

“Why? Someone needs to hold these losers accountable,” she responded.

I looked at her thick black hair, the round gold earrings against her tan skin, the brown eyes, the bare shoulders above the strapless top. I gazed at her facial expression and body language. She was the alpha female and she wanted everyone to know it.

They say opposites attract. That’s certainly the case with Deanna and I. I’m Irish and fair skinned. She’s Italian and olive skinned. I’m blond, she’s a brunette. I’m quiet, she’s outgoing. I’m said to be low key and patient. Deanna can get loud and patience has never been a word associated with her. I’m rational and try to avoid conflicts. And Deanna? Well, she loves to fight.

My family and friends say I’m making a mistake. They say marrying this woman will be a disaster. They say my life will be miserable. She’ll control me, dominate me, embarrass me. But the truth is, in spite of all the warning signs, I can’t imagine life without her. Honestly, there’s something about her aggression and her combativeness that attracts me. Maybe, there’s just something deep inside me that desires a dominant woman.

Deanna grew up in one of the rougher neighborhoods in the Bronx. She started getting in fights at a young age. Later, she ran with a bad crowd and had a few brushes with the law. Fortunately, she straightened up a lot and finished high school. We met as students at Rutgers. I was working on my masters degree in mechanical engineering and she was studying to be a physical therapist. As the saying goes, you can take a person off the streets but the streets don’t always leave the person.

Deanna and I met at a frat party. We were having a conversation over beers. When she went to the bathroom, a blonde came over to me. It got flirty. When Deanna returned, she told the blonde to get lost. It got intense, words were exchanged. The two women nearly came to blows right there. My buddies and I took the girls to an upstairs room of the frat house. In front of seven or eight guys, we let them fight. Both screaming and cursing, they slapped, they wrestled, they pulled hair, they scratched. They rolled across the floor. Clothes were torn. I know we should have stopped it but due to the alcohol and sexual turn on, the guys let them finish. Finally, Deanna had the blonde on her back straddled and pinned, banging the back of her head on the floor and slapping her face, leaving the helpless girl in tears. We decided it was enough. Deanna and I spent the night in my off-campus apartment for the most amazing sex ever. From that night onward, I was in love.

When Deanna learned about the catpin sorority, she wasted no time seeking women to fight. We graduated, Deanna earned her catpin. We both found jobs on Long Island. After a few years of dating, we became engaged. Then, I received an offer from one of the oil companies in Texas which was too good to pass up. Deanna accepted a physical therapist position at a large teaching hospital. At first, she wasn’t happy about leaving New York. Then, she found her mission. Moving to Texas meant one thing to her - to prove she’s badder and better than any of those tough Texas bitches. Tonight, I convinced her not to wear her catpin.

“Looks like we’ll be here all night,” she moaned. “Gawd, Texans are so dumb. All they care about are guns, football, and Bibles. Like … take a look at that guy over there,” she said, pointing her head at a diner sitting alone a few tables away. “What a big galoot. He probably says, ‘Howdy pardner, I’m sure fixin’ to get me some grub.’”

“Oh come on, Deanna,” I protested. “You know that’s a silly stereotype. Most Texans don’t talk like that.”

“No, really,” she argued. “Just look at that guy… Wait a minute. He looks familiar. I think I’ve seen him before.”

“You’re right,” I concurred. “He does look familiar.” The man was tall, appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with brown hair and he was wearing a red football jersey with jeans.

“He looks like … Josh Garrison,” I suggested.  Remember him. The Jets drafted him in the first round some years back. He was a quarterback.”

“Josh Garrison? Oh yeah, one of the worst draft busts in NFL history…I think that is him. He’s from this area. Oh great. Joe, can we skip this movie? I feel like we’re actually in a horror film. It’s called, ‘Night of the Losers’. I’m tired of waiting for the waitress. Let’s get some drinks from the bar.”

We slid up to the bar next to waiting patrons when Deanna pushed her way in front of a woman, nearly knocking her over.

“Hey,” the woman complained. “You’re very rude. I was next in line.” The woman asserted herself nudging her way back to her rightful place. She was quite attractive with her shoulder length light brown hair and green eyes. Yet, she appeared confident and not the least bit intimidated by my fiancée.”

“Too bad, honey,” my girlfriend retaliated, nudging the woman back. “You snooze, you lose.” The two women engaged in a shoulder bumping battle. Deanna gave her opponent one of her patented mean stares but the woman didn’t back down. Dressed in jeans and a red football jersey with an 18 emblazoned on the back, similar to the one worn by the man at the table, she contrasted with my Deanna with her jeans and sexy black strapless tight tank top, nicely snug over her 35D boobs. I knew my girl was in the wrong. I know she was being a bully but it’s just … so darn sexy. Finally, my better judgment took over.

“Deanna, I think this lady was here first and…”

My woman delivered one last hard shoulder block, sending the red jersey clad woman off balance, stumbling backward, bouncing off a middle-aged male patron.

“I’m telling the manager,” the woman said sternly through clenched teeth, regaining her balance.

“Go ahead, dear,” Deanna taunted. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you survival of the fittest is the law of nature?” As the woman turned, the name “Garrison” was in full view across the back of her jersey.

Deanna laughed, “Are you the president of the Jawsh Garrison fan club?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” the woman’s eyes widened with intensity, as her breathing became shallow.

“Then you must have a membership of one. Who’d want to be a fan of that bum. We couldn’t ship him out of New Yawk fast enough. Hell, that draft bust sent the Jets back for years. Texas can have him.”

The woman clenched her fists, her shoulders hunched, her teeth grinded. Her eyes dropped to Deanna’s handbag, more specifically, to what was attached to the handbag.

My girl’s adversary could barely get out her words between breaths. “Is…that…a…cat…pin?”

“Damn right it is,” Deanna said proudly, her body language assuming dominance with her hip cocked, her shoulders back, and her chest puffed out.

The woman fumbled through her own handbag, her eyes not once fell from Deanna’s face. Finally, her hand emerged from the bag, holding up a matching catpin.

“Let’s…fight,” the woman snarled.

“Hey now, ladies,” the bartender said as a small crowd gathered around the two women. “If you can’t get along in here, we’ll ask both of you to leave.”

The woman in the red jersey softened her posture but maintained her stare as Deanna gave her a condescending smile.

“Come to our table,” the woman said. “Let’s talk.”

“Oh yeah,” Deanna grinned. “This is gawnna be good.”

The three of us joined Josh and stated our names. We learned the woman is named Cynthia and she is the wife of the ex-quarterback we insulted. Also, she likes to fight. I easily got the sense that she is very proud of her husband and is quite sensitive and defensive about criticisms of his football career. After a brilliant run as a college quarterback, it must have been a bitter disappointment to not find success in the NFL. Pro football fans can be merciless. I suspect this is at least part of what fuels her motivation to fight. Once tempers settled, we discussed business. Cynthia and Josh would host the fight in a ring in their home on Friday night with just the four of us present. The women would fight topless in panties. The fight would end in a submission. The couple appeared to be quite reasonable. They seemed to have a thing for colleges. Cynthia asked where Deanna went to college, then asked her to wear red panties to match Rutgers colors. No problem there, Deanna assured her. I looked at Deanna as we discussed arrangements and I felt a wave of excitement. She was already sizing up her opponent. I’m sure she was envisioning herself ripping this woman apart in front of me, her husband-to-be. My future wife is a badass. I love it.

For the rest of the week, Deanna and Cynthia exchanged text messages. Unsurprisingly, Deanna used every cheap insult she could think of to mess with Cynthia’s head.

“So what’s Josh doing now?,” she types. “Driving taxis or delivering pizzas?”

“What does Josh have in common with possums? Both play dead at home and get killed on the road.”

“What does Josh have in common with Rev. Billy Graham? Both could make 70,000 people in a stadium stand up and shout ‘Jesus Christ’.”

Deanna can be sadistic. “Hon, don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?” I asked. Mind games are one thing but jokes about people’s very lives may take you somewhere you shouldn’t go.

Friday night arrived. I returned home from work, giddy with excitement. After a light dinner, I massaged Deanna and helped her stretch. She picked out her red panties and we headed to our hosts’ house. Their home was in an upper middle class neighborhood. Josh was jovial as he let us in. He gave us a brief tour through a home dedicated to the memory of his college years. In a large home gym room, Josh showed us the 18x18 feet ring with three ropes and a blue mat with a large emblem of their alta mater in the center. Deanna had never fought in a ring before and the excitement in her face was undeniable. Then Josh took us to a guest room where Deanna prepared for the fight.

As I studied her naked body, I became lost in my wonderment. Removing her earrings, necklace and rings, she began her transformation from ordinary woman to warrior. The eyes, the nose, the lips, all geared for the sensory input necessary to survive in the harshest and cruelest conditions. At 5’8” 140 pounds, her frame is magnificent. The well-toned arms and legs, the powerful thighs, the sinewy back and strong abdomen, the woman is a magnificent piece of art. The large but firm breasts jut out, the dark pink areolae and nipples fearlessly point  forward. There will be a day when those breasts will be nourishment for our future offspring, but tonight, they will be part of a struggle for supremacy against another female gladiatrix, flesh against flesh. The dark red nail polish on her fingers and toes contrasted with her deep tan, invoking images of bloody weapons. Then, there’s her attitude: bold, confident, unforgiving, merciless. She’s a warrior. She could have any man but she chose…me. She’s a proud fighter and she is…mine.

“These people are crazy,” Deanna muttered. “They keep reliving cawllege because he was shit in the NFL. And what’s with those red jerseys. Look, there’s one there,” she says, pointing to one of Josh’s red number 18 jerseys sitting atop of a pile of folded clothes, apparently intended to stored in a closet. My naked future wife holds it up, rolls her eyes, then crumbles it into a ball before tossing it in her gym bag. “It’s mine now,” she declares.

“No Deanna, you can’t. It’s stealing.”

“I said it’s mine now,” she reasserts as she tosses it in the open gym bag. “So what. They got thousands of them here.”

As she zipped the gym bag, I noted a box of what appeared to be markers and small squeeze bottles inside. “What’s that?” I asked.

“Body paint,” she answered.

“What the fuck for?”

“Uh, Cynthia and I agreed to stakes. You’ll see.” Oh good Lord, I thought. That’s my Deanna. She always full of surprises.

Josh summoned us to the ring. Deanna slipped on her red panties as I walked her to the ring like a prize fighter. Her breasts jiggled with each step as we entered the place of battle. The ring evoked a primal emotion in both of us, imposing a harsh reality of excitement and dread mixed together. One woman will leave victorious and jubilant. The other will lie defeated and broken.

Cynthia made her way into the gym, confidently striding forward in her red jersey. She performed an athletic jump over the top rope, then proceeded to stretch. She stood up again, only to execute a leg split twice, first the right leg forward, then the left, demonstrating amazing flexibility. I could never do that even in high school while stretching for track practice.

“She’s a national cheerleading champion,” I told Deanna. “She’s an elite athlete.”

“Ha,” Deanna scoffed, “This is fighting.”

Josh summoned us to the center of the ring where the four of us gathered to review the rules. There would be no punches or kicks to the head or biting. The fight would end with a verbal submission or tap out. The women stood face to face, their noses nearly touching. Deanna had a one inch height and 12 pound weight advantage. Compared to Cynthia, her muscles were bigger, she appeared stronger. Cynthia looked sleeker but still tightly muscled. She already established her agility and flexibility. I know Deanna is not afraid, she has repeatedly overpowered this type of opponent with her aggression and strength. Their breasts protruded in opposition. Deanna’s were larger, tan skin and dark areola and long nipples proclaiming dominance. Cynthia’s bare boobs, smaller but with creamy skin an pink areola, appeared pert with a hint of feistiness about them, as they answered Deanna’s pair in defiance. My girl looked disdainfully at the former cheerleader while Cynthia appeared intense. The women separated and went back into their corners to wait for Josh’s command.

Josh gave the order, “FIGHT!” Both women charged to the center of the ring. Cynthia, perhaps respecting Deanna’s power, feigned a lockup but pulled back to maneuver to the side. My girl saw it coming. Grabbing Cynthia’s arm, she pulled her opponent back close, wrapping her arms around the woman’s head and neck. Cynthia took hold of Deanna’s neck with her free arm and the two fighters, pulled, and slapped at each other, screaming, spinning, and stumbling around the ring. Not surprisingly, Deanna took control. Despite Cynthia holding on to her hair, it was Deanna dictating the direction of the fighters. Cynthia thrashed and kicked at my fiancée’s legs but my honey was a bulldog, driving Cynthia into the ropes.

With her opponent’s back to the ropes, and forcing the neck down with one arm, my fighting vixen fired punches to the ribs as Cynthia squealed, trying to block the blows with her arm. Deanna backed up, threw a series of hard slaps to the head, leaving Cynthia bent over and covering up. My babe next saw an opportunity, easily grabbing on to Cynthia’s hair and spun her around, taking away her balance and flinging her to the canvas.

Seeing her opportunity, Deanna pounced on her fallen prey, however, Cynthia, on her back, managed to get her knees up to prevent a full mount. That didn’t stop Deanna from relenting her aggressive tactics, as she rained a flurry of body punches and head slaps, most of them blocked. Unable to get past Cynthia’s raised knees, Deanna lost her position when Cynthia used her legs to push her to the side before rolling to an escape. I had to give Cynthia credit. She used her legs well defensively. But I thought it’d be a matter of time before she’d succumb to Deanna’s power and relentless attack.

Indeed, Cynthia barely rose to her feet when my warrior princess rushed in firing body shots to the ribs and kidneys. A hard right to the midsection doubled over Mrs. Draft Bust before she dropped to her knees. Deanna immediately took advantage using her foot to shove her victim in the chest, knocking her over to her side. Standing over Cynthia, yanking her by the hair as she got back to her knees, Deanna pulled her face upward and fired a vicious slap across the face, the loud smacking sound reverberating through the playroom.

Still on her knees, Cynthia looked stunned and her face red as Deanna reached for the brown hair to deliver another crack across the face. To my surprise, the agile former cheerleader dove for Deanna’s legs, wrapping her arms around the knees, and driving her body forward. Deanna let out a shriek as she tumbled to the mat and Cynthia lurched on top of her. The two women wrestled for control, rolling on the mat, shrieking and grunting, grabbing onto each other’s arms and hair, their legs kicking and clamoring. I thought Deanna, being stronger and heavier would have the advantage. As I expected, she established the top position, but Cynthia proved to be good defensively. The fight turned into a titillating ground game as both both sexy bodies struggled against each other. With Deanna keeping Cynthia on her back, I figured it’d be a matter of time before the former college star would wear out.

Suddenly, in a flash, the woman in the red football panties executed an impressive reversal, maneuvering into a top mount on my girlfriend. Deanna managed to twist her body and position herself face down with Cynthia on her back. Surprisingly, Cynthia backed off slightly, giving my girl more room. I didn’t understand it but then it became apparent. When Deanna lifted her head and chest off the mat, Cynthia quickly struck. Using her speed and agility, the amazing legs wrapped around Deanna’s neck, locking at the ankles into a head scissors. Deanna only had time to gasp as her attacker’s legs forced her back down to the mat on her side.

I felt weird seeing her in this position fearing Cynthia cinched in a choke. Fortunately, that wasn’t quite the case. Deanna’s right arm was raised up to her head when Cynthia applied the scissors. Her neck blood vessels were protected by her arm. It wasn’t a choke. Still, Deanna was in trouble, down on the mat, with Cynthia fully in control.

For a few moments, Deanna’s lay awkwardly on the mat, grunting and snorting, as Cynthia tried to tighten the hold. My doll’s proud chest heaved for air, the bare tits riding along in an expansion and retraction pattern. Surely, Cynthia must’ve realized she didn’t have the choke in place put that didn’t stop her from growling, “Give up, bitch.” Fuck, I never heard anyone ask my wife-to-be if she wanted to give up.”

“Fuck no!” Deanna growled, her voice muffled by Cynthia’s legs around her mouth. I watched my sweetie shift her body and gain some traction on her knees as Cynthia continued to lie on her side trying to maintain the leg scissors around Deanna’s head and raised arm.

With her one free arm, Deanna tried prying Cynthia’s ankles apart enough to slip her head through the hold. She came close several times but one hand and arm was no match for Cynthia’s legs. However, she managed to get herself on both knees, forcing Cynthia onto her back. That was all she needed. Her leverage wasn’t great but it was enough. With closed fists, knuckles protruding for extra damage, my gladiatrix went to work burying punches into Cynthia’s thighs. The wincing of Cynthia’s face and her barely controlled whimpers couldn’t hide the effects of Deanna’s blows. One after another, easy shots pounded her opponents gorgeous strong legs until Cynthia relented, releasing the scissors. Free, Deanna, took a deep breath and coughed but not before Cynthia, from her back, delivered a kick to the chest. Deanna took the blow, scrambled backwards as Cynthia rolled in the other direction. Now, with considerable space separating them, both ladies slowly rose to their feet.

“Dumb Texas bitch,” Deanna taunted.

“Fuck you, cxnt,” Cynthia answered.

The women approached each other, their eyes glaring with hatred, their hair a wild mess. Simultaneously, they lunged at each other, locking their arms around each other’s neck and waist in a standing grappling contest. I was sure Deanna was stronger and this would work in her favor. However, Cynthia stood her ground as they pushed against each other, panting and grunting, their muscles bulging and flaring, their bare feet digging into the mat as they tried to throw each other off balance. The bare breasts pressed together as the legs drove forward into a stalemate. As a guy, the sight of these two was like an epiphany. Two strong gorgeous women locked in combat, their sweat reflecting the overhead light off their skin. They looked like creatures from some ancient mythology. So primal, so beautiful, so sexy.

As I expected, Deanna gradually took control, backing up her opponent. After blocking Deanna’s hip toss attempt, Cynthia was vulnerable and Deanna took full advantage, driving her knee to the belly. Our hostess doubled over as Deanna moved in for the kill. My woman charged forward driving Cynthia into the ropes. Then she went to work. A yank of the hair, a slap to the face, a backhand chop to the chest, punches to the body, a rake of the red polished fingernails across the tits. Seemingly defenseless, Cynthia bent over in half trying to cover but Deanna was relentless. Just a matter of time now, I was sure. Then out of desperation, Cynthia managed one more defensive escape. Crouching low, she pulled off a gymnastic forward roll right under Deanna’s arms and away from her ropes. Deanna, like a cat, waited patiently for Cynthia to rise, finding the right moment to charge again. Cynthia appeared to wobble some as she stood up. Deanna rushed at her to finish the kill.

It happened so fast. I wasn’t sure if I saw it clearly. As Deanna shot in, Cynthia went low, wrapped her arm around my girl’s thigh, grabbed her arm, and lifted her over her back in a fireman’s carry, dropping her on her back. Deanna instinctively turned onto her hands and knees, as it was now Cynthia stalking prey.

With Deanna on her knees, Cynthia came from behind, pushed Deanna’s head forward, then again used those deadly legs, clamping on a standing head scissors. I could hear Deanna’s distressed moans. Her head was wedged between Cynthia’s thighs just below the pussy. I didn’t like the angle of her neck and back. I was worried.

“Give up. Your finished,” barked Cynthia.

“No fucking way,” Deanna responded. Her weak voice was discouraging.

For a very tense minute, I wondered if Deanna would tap out or if I should throw in the towel. I could tell Cynthia had the scissors on tight.

Then, in an incredible effort, Deanna wrapped her arms around Cynthia’s ankles, shifted her legs, pushed up off her knees and straightened her back, lifting Cynthia off her feet. Then unbelievably, my girl began to stand, with Cynthia on her shoulders still holding onto the scissors. Holy shit! Even I didn’t know Deanna was this strong.

Deanna sprung up on her legs in an attempt to stand. She did get to her feet but never gained stability. Exhausted and with the awkward weight of Cynthia on her shoulders, my sweet cakes stumbled backwards. Unable to recover her footing, she barreled toward the ropes, carrying Cynthia with her. Then the shit hit the fan. The ladies uncontrollably crashed into the ropes. As the two bodies fell backwards, Cynthia broke her hold and, with a shrill scream, fell over the top rope onto the carpeted floor below as Deanna dropped on her butt inside the ring.

Josh and I quickly ran to check on Cynthia who demanded to continue the fight. The guys agreed her fall out of the ring was accidental and the fight would resume. We also agreed our women could have a thirty second break.

I met Deanna in our corner as Cynthia collected herself outside the ring. I wiped her face with a towel and rubbed her sweaty skin. “Are you OK, babe?” I asked. “Cynthia is tough, isn’t she.”

“She’s mine,” Deanna replied. “She’s got nothing left. She’s done.”

Deanna made a sly smirk. I recognized it. It’s the smile she wears when she thinks of something devious. “Joe, get me the jersey.”

“What jersey?”

“The red jersey. It’s in my gym bag. “

“The one you stole? Why? What are you going to do with it?”

“Just get it. Give it to me NOW!”

I’ll never know why I obeyed her. I guess everyone is right. For some reason this woman has a spell on me. She controls me. I handed her Josh’s jersey.

With Cynthia still outside the ring, Deanna took her position on the school emblem in the center of the ring. To my utter shock, she proceeded to remove her panties, kicking them away with her feet, standing there stark naked. It was surreal but there she was, her gorgeous round ass and dense black bush in full view.

“Deanna! What are you doing?” I shouted. Shit, I thought. Now she’s out of her mind.

With the red jersey in hand, Deanna, in her birthday suit, waited as Cynthia climbed through the ropes to return to the ring. I’ll never forget what happened next. As Cynthia made her way back, Deanna, standing on the school emblem squatted. Reaching behind, she wedged the jersey into the crack of her ass, moving it from a front to back motion as if it were toilet paper.
After she completed wiping her ass, Deanna dropped the jersey, then mimed flushing a toilet handle.

Cynthia stood at the edge of the ring, her eyes wide with horror, her mouth wide open. Her hands clenched into fists, her back arched like an alley cat.

“You fucking BITCH!” she shrieked with an intensity that made me nervous. The offended woman rushed at Deanna, who back pedaled away, dodging the onslaught. Cynthia stopped her charge on the logo, gently picking up the desecrated jersey. As carefully as if she were handling a priceless possession, the school alumna held the top of the jersey with her finger tips, letting the garment spread out to be inspected by her loving eyes. Suddenly and eerily, the face contorted into a look of horror, as if she just witnessed the slaughter of cute puppies. Did she see something? Was there a tear? Did Deanna leave …a skid mark? I have my suspicions which I’ll keep to myself.

With a blood curdling scream, Cynthia ran at Deanna like a missile. Deanna dug in to meet her. She was not prepared this time. Cynthia threw her body at my girl like a spear, knocking her down and falling on top of her. Cynthia on top mounted Deanna and in a fury, threw punch after punch at her chest and belly. Deanna gamely fought back and managed to throw Cynthia off of her and escape but it wouldn’t last. Cynthia ran her into the ropes and with the ferocity of a hurricane, attacked with a whirlwind of punches, knees, slaps and kicks. My fiancée was slumped against the ropes and helpless. Before I could throw in the towel, Cynthia wrapped her arms around Deanna lifting her off her feet before twisting and throwing my woman to the mat.

Deanna lay face down, and I suspect she was confused, as Cynthia stood over her, straddling her at shoulder level as patient as a cat hovering over her mouse. Slowly, Deanna lifted up her head, pushing her upper body up with her elbows. Cynthia backed away from her, circling, her movements stealth and deliberate. I felt a sense of dread. It was clear Cynthia had an end game plan. The way she looked at Deanna’s body turned my dread to ominous despair. She looked like a predator setting up the final kill. As my fighter pushed herself to her knees, I felt as though she was vulnerable, unknowingly setting herself up for her Cynthia’s fatal delivery, whatever that may be.

Deanna shifted her weight from her elbows to her hands and knees. I saw Cynthia’s powerful legs contract, her knees bent slightly. “No Deanna,” I screamed. “Stay down.”

Then it happened. The former cheerleader’s legs sprang into action, wrapping around my girl’s neck in a figure four position, then clamping into a scissors around her head and neck, her powerful thighs and calves, squeezing and contracting. Deanna let out a muffled scream, as Cynthia’s control of her head forced her back down to the mat and on her side. I heard her make a sickening choking gasping sound as she frantically punched and clawed at her attacker’s thighs.

I felt like my heart would stop. I had never seen my woman on the verge of defeat. But there she was, her beautiful strong body helpless, her thick black wavy hair splayed wildly in all directions. With her face engulfed by her opponent’s muscular lower extremities, I could make out her forehead, now maroon from her compressed veins. She was being choked. I swallowed hard and uttered words I did not expect. “Deanna, you can tap out. It’s OK babe, tap out.”

She waved her hand in defiance, somehow shifting her weight partially to her knees. She tried digging her hands between her neck and Cynthia’s legs, desperately trying to relieve the pressure off the vital structures of her neck. She scratched. She clawed. Cynthia responded by twisting her body, sending the top of Deanna’s head buried into the mat, creating a horrible angle of my girl’s neck and the rest of her body. Her knees were on the mat, with her bare ass  facing upward. With her head firmly fixed, the legs uselessly twitched like a dying rabbit caught in a snare. Oh fuck, I thought, this could be dangerous.

“That’s enough,” I called out. I entered the ring to break it up. It wouldn’t be necessary. I saw Deanna’s hand, forlornly tap Cynthia’s leg. The two women came apart. Deanna rolled to her side, gasping and coughing. Cynthia crawled away on her hands and knees, retrieving her husband’s defiled jersey. I squatted down beside my fallen woman, lightly taking hold of her hand. “Babe, are you OK?” I whispered. Deanna made a quick gagging sound, made eye contact with me for just a second before turning her head. The look of shame on her face said it all. “You fought a great fight, love. And when we get home, I’ll…”

I’m interrupted by a knee nudging me in the back. I turn to see Cynthia standing, clutching the red jersey. She said nothing but her message was clear, “Get out of my way.” I’m not sure why but I offered no protest. I rose, leaving my wife’s side, effectively handing her over to her conqueror. Cynthia wasted no time moving in, rolling my future wife onto her belly, mounting her back. The cheer coach, pulling Deanna’s head up by her hair, deposited the jersey on the mat, then shoved my girl’s nose into it. I noticed Josh standing on the other side of the women, watching silently.

“Kiss it!” Cynthia demanded…”Did you hear me? I said KISS IT!!!”

I wanted to intervene. I wanted to say Deanna has had enough. I wanted to pull Cynthia off of my girl. Yet,…I couldn’t. Something inside told me this is how it must play out. Something primitive and carnal, like a voice, said the women must finalize what they started. All debts are to be settled. No doubts are to remain. No questions to be asked.

The two men quietly looked on as the women played out their ritual of justice and punishment, of victrix and vanquished, of pride and brokenness. “Kiss it, NOW,” Cynthia screamed.

In the midst of muffled sobs, Deanna made an unmistakeable lip smacking sound. “There, she did it,” Josh acknowledged, showing a hint of compassion. Cynthia released her grip from the back of Deanna’s head, then slowly lifted off of her, rising to her feet, as Deanna lay face down. I motioned to retrieve my fallen female warrior, but Cynthia again silently indicated she wasn’t done yet. Her foot lightly kicked against Deanna’s arm. Understanding the cue, my woman obediently rolled over offering up her chest and belly, like land about to be impaled by the flag of the conqueror.

Cynthia claimed the spoils. After draping the offended jersey over Deanna’s face, she placed her foot on my future wife’s breastbone, just between her tits. With one hand on her hips, she raised the other one triumphantly, making a fist, then transitioning into a flexed biceps pose. I found my eyes glued to her. Her hair was a mess, her face was reddened, yet, she was beautiful. Her green eyes and smile radiated jubilation, relief, the joy and self-pride of having vanquished a foe, of engaging in hand-to-hand combat and emerging as the better woman. Her skin, although splotched with red marks and scratches, glowed. The breasts were perky again, the nipples awakened, rejoicing in the knowledge of their safety, knowing the battle was won. Her muscles undoubtedly ached, but her posture reflected the confidence and self assurance of the victrix. At that moment, I thought she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. But she could never be mine. She was deeply in love with her husband and wore the number 18 on her red panties to prove it. My eyes tracked down to the strong, athletic legs. Even her feet were beautiful as they pinned the woman I’m about to marry to the mat, claiming their ownership of her.

My eyes turned to Deanna. Her head, hidden under the number 18, tilted to the side. I thought of how alone she must feel in her humiliation. The thick black hair was a chaotic cascade. She still looked beautiful…but different. It was the same body. The bronze skin, the thick muscular build, the bosomy chest. It was all there, but it was if all the spirit and vitality were gone. The chest took in air but the nipples flattened as they moved up and down as if trying to hide. All the muscles were still, the arms, legs, hands, feet, red polished fingers and toes uselessly lay motionless. The large black bush now seemed to shrink in embarrassment. She was like a proud wild animal that had been sedated and put on public display.

Finally, Cynthia dismounted, leaving Deanna on her back, the jersey on her face, for which Deanna made no effort to remove. I squatted by her side and lifted the jersey for her. The face was expressionless, the eyes flooded with tears. She glanced at me briefly before looking away. The breathing rate was slowing down, she made no attempt to get up. I held her hand and kissed her forehead. “That was a great fight, babe. You were wonderful,” I whispered. In their corner, Cynthia and Josh were locked in a passionate embrace.

Deanna acknowledged me with her eyes but gave no other response. Finally, as if she just realized she was naked, folded her arms over her breasts and crossed her legs, rolling to her side. “Hold on to me, my love,” I said. “Let me help you up.” I grabbed her arm, as she clung to mine. With my other arm around her waist, I lifted her up. After a short stumble, she regained her footing. The eyes still seemed a little glazed and the lips quivered. All I could do was hug her and kiss her head. “I’m so proud of you,” I told her. In truth, I didn’t know how I felt. I only knew Deanna as strong, aggressive, a true alpha female. Seeing her in this state, I may have been just as stunned and confused. “Let’s go home, honey,” I said. “Let’s get you washed up and in bed. You’ll be fine. You’ll be back.” I walked her back to our corner and picked up her gym bag.

“Wait a minute,” a woman’s voice called behind us. I turned to see Cynthia, back to wearing her own Josh jersey, holding a body paint kit, much like the one in Deanna’s bag. “We have one last piece of business,” she informed.

“Look,” I argued, “I don’t know what you have in mind but Deanna’s had enough. Leave her alone.”

“She agreed to stakes before the match,” Cynthia argued. “In fact, she demanded it. It was her idea.This will only take a minute. Now Deanna, turn around.”

“Deanna, is that true?” I asked. She didn’t need to speak to answer. The truth was on her face.

Cynthia quickly positioned herself behind my girlfriend’s back. With a large paint marker, she drew a large red 18 on Deanna’s back. Taking a black marker, she penned the letters “NYC” on defeated woman’s left ass cheek and ‘Sucks” on the right buttock. Moving to the front, the winner wrote “Property of” on Deanna’s upper chest followed by “Cynthia” on the belly.

“There,” Cynthia beamed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Oh, one last thing.” Deanna’s conqueror picked up the dirty jersey off the mat. “We have a rule. You break it. You bought it. But we’re giving this to you for free. Now raise your arms.”

Deanna, still speechless, followed the order. Cynthia and Josh stood on each side of her, spreading out the jersey, then slipping it over her head, directing the arms into the sleeves, then pulling it down over her body, where it extended to her mid thighs. Deanna’s lips began to quiver again. “Are we done, now?” I snarled.

“Yes,” Cynthia replied. “Kindly leave.”

I held Deanna’s hand with mine, carried her gym bag with the other, helped her out of the ring as Cynthia and Josh followed behind us. As we exited the front door, Cynthia gave Deanna a poke in the ass with a cheerleader baton as if it were a cattle prod. Neither of us said anything.

The drive home was excruciating. Deanna, in the passenger seat, donning painted skin and a jersey that smelled like her ass would intermittently break out sobbing. I wondered how this experience would change her. I thought of how our relationship might never be the same. I tried to reassure her. I mentioned how everyone loses at some point but the good ones come back. I told her how she can beat Cynthia in a rematch. I tried to joke.

“Sure you’ll beat her, girl. Come on, she married Josh Garrison, the king of the pick six pass interceptions. They’re Texans, for Pete’s sake. A red state. They probably voted for Trump. What do you call a man who crosses the Mexican border seeking a better life for himself and his family? Ted Cruz. What does a woman in Dallas call a hand job? Texas Hold ‘em. What do you get if Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas seceded from the U.S.? A new country called KOTEX. Why is Texas the Lone Star State? Because one star was the minimum allowed in a five star rating system. See Deanna. You’ll totally kick her ass next time.

I noted her chest heaved again but this time she was holding back laughter. Then she finally smiled and spoke, ‘Yeah Joe, I know I can take her.”

Then I saw it by the side of the road. It must have been 14 feet high and 48 feet long. Red, white and blue. The lone star. The silhouette of the map of Texas. And the words. I tried to distract Deanna. I asked her to count cows by the side of the rode. I didn’t want her to see it. Too late.

The huge billboard was from an anti-littering campaign. The letters were emblazoned, declaring it’s slogan, DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS.

My girl’s laughter reverted to sobs, then to loud wailing. Shit!


 
Don’t bother walking a mile in my shoes. That would be boring. Spend thirty seconds in my head. That’ll freak you right out.

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Offline FyreCracka

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #5 on: December 09, 2021, 04:05:32 AM »
Fantastic! A great, rough and tumble fight. Two interesting characters that we get to learn more about. Humor and silliness. It has everything. Plus I really like getting to see a Catpin story from a husband/boyfriend's point of view. It really changes the perspective.....and let's not forget that this was a completely new story! That also makes it fun!

I really like the Cynthia character she's got all the psychoness of Candace but is just so like able :) (Sorry she uncorked her crazy on you Kiva). And she typically only loses it for fairly admirable reasons. I do especially like getting to see more of what makes her tick.

And then there's Deanna, she is just such a good heel. Like in the traditional old school pro wrestling way. It was fun seeing her fiancé give us a different side of her as well... implying that she overcame some stuff and was somewhat lovable.

All in all, a great chapter!
Fyre: a 5' 5 1/2", 130lbs, 39 years old, blonde hair and brown eyed brawler.

If you're interested in being in a story feel free to contact us.

We are now on Trillian: Fyrecracka

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Offline papillon

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #6 on: December 09, 2021, 08:47:04 PM »
It's always gratifying to watch a bully gets his or her comeuppance – Deanna had had it coming her whole life, I imagine – but when justice is meted out by Cynthia (the better woman in every respect: the stronger willed, the more athletic, the more courageous, the more cunning and – certainly, in victory – the sexier ten times over as well) it's even more fun. Cynthia didn't just beat Deanna, she thrashed her. She is Nemesis, the implacable goddess of justice and retribution, still as much in love with her college sweetheart as when they first met, and fiercely protective of him in a way that's comical but at the same time noble and rather romantic, and ready – to any who heap ridicule upon his sweet head – to bury them under a mountain of the stuff.
An inch taller, twelve pounds heavier with bigger muscles … never doubting for an instant that she'd rip Cynthia apart in front of her husband, and she ends up on her knees, "with her bare arse facing upward" in the air, her face turning purple and her legs twitching like those of "a dying rabbit caught in a snare."
I loved this:
My eyes turned to Deanna. Her head, hidden under the number 18, tilted to the side. I thought of how alone she must feel in her humiliation. The thick black hair was a chaotic cascade. She still looked beautiful…but different. It was the same body. The bronze skin, the thick muscular build, the bosomy chest. It was all there, but it was if all the spirit and vitality were gone. The chest took in air but the nipples flattened as they moved up and down as if trying to hide. All the muscles were still, the arms, legs, hands, feet, red polished fingers and toes uselessly lay motionless. The large black bush now seemed to shrink in embarrassment. She was like a proud wild animal that had been sedated and put on public display.
And I loved the poke in the ass with a cheerleader baton "as if it were a cattle prod" at the end. Bet that made her jump!
« Last Edit: December 09, 2021, 09:50:25 PM by papillon »

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Offline Kiva

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #7 on: December 15, 2021, 02:57:02 AM »

Chapter 3: War on the Water’s Edge (Grace’s Story Told To Kiva)

Introduction and Background

FFJ Ch 17: “War on the Water’s Edge” is memorable for its creative fight setting, nail biting action, and surprise outcome. Kelli had just come off a brutal and humiliating loss to the unstoppable Candace, a fight in which she suffered bruised ribs. She visited a new lakefront development hoping to land contract work. Despite persisting rib pain, she ended up in a impromptu fight with Grace, a petite young Asian saleswoman and catpin wearer. Grace is small but feisty. Kelli has a 20 lb weight and 4.5 inch height advantage but must fight through rib pain. You can read this thriller at https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=78153.30

I encountered Grace while considering buying a lakefront weekend getaway property. What follows in Grace’s account of her fight with Kelli.

You gotta believe
You gotta be strong
You gotta sharpen your claws,
fluff up your tail,
and sing this mighty song


Small but mighty
Small but mighty
When you're powerful and wise,
You can rise above any size


If you belittle being little,
Then your quest is doomed to fail
But when you're small but mighty,
The mighty shall prevail
You gotta persist!
-From Disney’s Teacher’s Pet



“This place is so beautiful, Tom. Let’s buy it…Now!”

The three of us laugh, Tom and I, and Grace, the pretty petite Asian sales manager sitting at the desk across from us in her office. With all we’ve been through lately, we decided to do something special for ourselves. And for me, nothing is more special than our own lake house. The new development is perfect for us. I love water. I love boating, swimming, sunbathing. There’s also hiking, horseback riding and mountain biking here. It’s a perfect getaway spot not far from home.

Tom rounded on his patients at the hospital this morning, then met me here. Grace, our saleswoman, went over the specifics with us.

“Can we, can we…close the deal today? I ask.” More laughter.

“Not quite,” my husband says as he stands up to answer his pager. “There’s a process.”

“All of our buyers fall in love with these homes immediately,” Grace explains. “You’ve already been pre-approved. We’ll need to complete the usual steps - credit history, financial statements and so on. Once everything is finalized, we’ll set up a closing date.”

“How long will that take?” I jokingly feign impatience.

“Kiva,” My husband returns from his call. “I have to head back to the hospital. Emergency cardiac catheterization.” I give him a kiss before he leaves. “Let’s buy a boat, too,” I coo at him.

“Kiva and I will go over the documents we’ll need to get the ball rolling,” Grace says as the saleswoman smiles at me. The woman is attractive. She looks young, although with her heavy makeup, it’s not easy to tell her age. Her delicate Asian features are framed by black straight hair to her shoulders. She is dressed businesslike in a gray skirt and blazer over a white blouse and matching gray high heels. She looks over our application.

“A doctor and a nurse, I see. You two must have some interesting conversations at home. What kind of nursing?”

“ICU.”

“Wow, that must be a demanding job.” As she extends her arm, I see something attached to the inside of her blazer, something she is hiding. I could swear it’s a cat pin. As she hands me another document, my eyes zero in on the object. Yes! No doubt about it. Grace has a cat pin. At first, I ponder the idea of this petite woman fighting. She’s small but seems tightly muscled. Still, I’d have no problem taking her. My first impulse is to pull my pin out of my handbag. No, bad idea. I can’t fight this woman. I’m not about to jeopardize our lake house purchase. Still, the curiosity overwhelms me. I want to know about her as a fighter.

“Excuse me, Grace?” I ask. “I hope you don’t mind, but I noticed an unusual pin inside your jacket. It looks like a …cat. Are you in a cat lovers club?”

“Oh this?” She responds. “No it’s just a pin. I thought it was interesting. I usually don’t wear it openly.”

“I see,” I reply. I begin to resume the conversation but my interest in her fights is just too intense.

“Look.., um…Grace. I’ll tell you the truth. I know about the cat pin. So,…you fight? I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s OK. I’ll respect your privacy. I was just curious.”

Grace stares at me silently for a moment. “Yes, I fight,” her voice low and deliberate. “Do you?”

“We’ll, yes. I mean, I did. I’m not active currently.” I know I’m not being honest. I just don’t want to be pressured into a fight with Grace and risk losing our lake house deal.

Grace continues in her low voice as she begins her disclosure. “I’ve always been driven to succeed. My parents instilled into me a work ethic. Whatever activity I’ve done, school, piano, gymnastics, I gave it everything. I may not have been the best, but I worked harder than everyone else. After I’ve graduated from college with a degree in marketing, I went into real estate. I set company records in sales. Now here I am, age 28, the sales manager of a lakeside community development.”

“That’s impressive,” I tell her. “Is that Mercedes Benz yours?”

“Yes,” she answers and then resumes. “I’m competitive. Always have been. I’m obsessed with proving myself. That’s why I started catfighting. To prove myself against other women. To be better than them. To master them. I know I’m only 5’1” and 110 lbs. But to wear the cat pin, you have to be prepared for anyone. I’m not afraid to fight bigger girls. I’ve beaten some. Even if I don’t win, they’ll be hurting. They’ll know they’ve been in a fight.”

“Sounds like you’re fearless,” I tell her. “That’s a good trait in a fighter.”

“Yes,” she agrees. Grace points to her office window. “See that dock down there? I once destroyed a blonde at the edge of the lake. She was about 5 inches taller and at least 20 pounds heavier than me. We fought all over the dock, the grass, the water until she submitted.”

“Well, that sounds different,” I reply. “Tell me about.”

Grace pulls herself forward in her chair and I see her become more animated. Clearly, she wants to tell this story and I’m providing a very welcomed opportunity.

“Yeah, well, I came to work like any other day. I was the only one here and I’m waiting to meet this woman from a company that builds and remodels, who was hoping for a contract with us. Then, this blonde chick walks in. She looked to be about 40. She was attractive. I’ll give her that. Well, this bimbo shakes my hand, and wouldn’t you know it, she’s wearing this fucking cat pin right on the front of her denim jacket. And I’m thinking, Are you fucking kidding?”

“Seriously?” I interject. “She’s on business and she’s wearing a cat pin.”

“Can you believe it?”

“Sounds like a real dumbass.”

“So, I’m thinking this is too good to be true. You see, she has no idea that I fight. I have my cat pin hidden so I decide to play games with her. I act real coy and say, ‘Nice pin.’” Meanwhile, I’m planning on taking her down to the lake and kicking her ass. So I lead her down this path and on to the dock. She had no clue to what I was about to do to her. Meanwhile, I’m sizing her up and licking my chops. I knew she was bigger than me but I knew I could beat her.”

“Well, we get to the dock. It just rained, so it’s muddy everywhere. I’m wearing a yellow blouse and a tight skirt and black panty hose and this idiot has a white tank top and blue jeans. I told her to take her boots off. I took off my heels. When she straightened up, I showed her my cat pin and said, “Let’s see what you got, cxnt.” I think she was surprised but she didn’t seemed flustered. She said, “Bring it, bitch.”

“The next thing you knew, we tore into each other. We’re slapping, punching, scratching and clawing. We tear each other’s tops. My blouse buttons popped off. We both had scratches on our arms. I’ll admit she was stronger than me so she started slinging me around and hitting me with body shots. I felt it. She tore off my blouse, then my bra, then knocked me down so I’m on my back, bare chested.”

“This fool ripped off her tank top and was down to her bra, trash talked me, then jumped on me. You know what she did next?”

“What”

“She jumped on me, wrapped her top around my throat and started choking me with it.”

“Holy Sh-“

“Yep, I thought, Shit, this bitch is crazy. So I was struggling, clawing, bucking, trying to do anything as I’m getting choked. I ended up punching her in the ribs. I know it hurt. I heard her squeal and lurch back. That’s how I got away. The skank didn’t know I could punch but she just found out. She’s face down hurt. I have a target now so I go for the rib. I yanked her hair, ripped her bra off, then drove my knee into her ribs. She’s just laying there moaning. Then she started trying to crawl away but I grab her hair, pull up her and said, “Where do you think you’re going cxnt?” Then I just kept slapping her face.”

I look at Grace’s hands and have a hard time imagining those tiny fists doing much damage.

“She’s so pathetic,” Grace continues. “She couldn’t  take a punch. I mean, I hit her in the ribs while lying on my back. My back! And she caved! So I yanked her by the hair, pushed my nose against hers and demanded she submit. So what did she do? She reached under my skirt and dug her nails into my pussy. I went down and we start wrestling and rolling all over the dock. So here we were, in a catball, going at it. Finally, we rolled into the grass. It’s muddy as hell. Next thing you knew, we’re covered in mud.”

“This sounds wild,” I comment.

“Yeah, it was. We’re both caked in mud. She ended up on top of me. The dumb shit thought she had me pinned but I got my legs around her waist. All I had to do was squeeze and she let out this scream. I mean, this was so easy.”

“I figured it’s time to end it. She fell off of me and I squeezed and squeezed and she’s just lying there screaming. Then I said to her, “Submit to me, blonde bitch. I’ll break your fucking ribs. Say it, slut!” I’m trying to pull her hair but there was so much mud on her head. I felt her trying to claw at my thighs but I knew I got her. And then…and then…she attacked me again in the pussy.”

“Sounds like this girl can’t fight,” I add. “The only thing she knows how to do is attack the pussy.”

“That’s right,” Grace resumes. “It hurt like hell. She ended up escaping. We both got up slowly. I couldn’t believe she was so stupid. She could have just submitted when she had the chance. She was just prolonging her own agony. I thought next time I won’t be as easy on her. I wanted her to suffer. We were both hurting but we get to our feet. The bitch actually had the nerve to trash talk me. We started swinging in the grass. We tied up, pulled each other’s hair, then we fell into the lake.”

“Holy crap!”

“Yes, we’re fighting and splashing in the water. At least it washed most of the mud off. I could tell she’s struggling to breathe. She couldn’t take any more. We ended up rolling to the lake shore in a few inches of water. She was nothing but a wet dish rag at this point. So I went for the kill. I got on top of her, pinned her arms, grapevined her legs and started stretching the shit out of her.”

“Did she submit, then?” I ask.

“Not at first, although I repeatedly demanded it. I just kept tensing up my legs and stretching her. I got her locked in good. She was so helpless, she couldn’t do much more than shake her head and wiggle her fingers and toes. Then, I realized my hips were digging into her hurt ribs right where I punched her. So, I continued to stretch her like a torture rack and kept punishing those ribs. I knew she was suffering and I was enjoying it. I brought my face right in front of hers and let her feel my breath when I said, ‘Submit to me bitch’. She still didn’t. Fine, I could wait. She wasn’t going anywhere. I just kept stretching and grinding her ribs. Her face looked like total misery. I just smirked at her when our eyes met. I knew it had to be demoralizing for her. I was taking away all of her will. Finally, the tears flowed. Her anguished voice choked out ‘Ok…ok..I submit…please…stop.’ I relaxed the hold but I stayed on top of her keeping her trapped underneath me.”

“Her submission triggered this incredible rush in me. Although I won, I didn’t want to give up control of my victim, so I just lay there on top of her, feeling her limp body beneath mine. She was so defeated and battered, she didn’t squirm or even try to get away from me. Then it really hit me. Tiny little me just took down a bigger blonde. And here, surrounded by the sky, the water, and earth, it’s just the two of us. Me and my kill. I didn’t want this moment to end. Mind if I ask you something? Just between us girls?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever win a fight, then stand over your defeated opponent and feel like the sexiest thing in the world?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I answer.

“Well, I got this woman on her back, on the lake shore. She’s mine. Then, I felt this warm rush over my body. My nipples were practically popping off my chest. I got this tingling down below. I wanted to make sure she knew who owned her. I deliberately pressed my chest onto hers. I’m first to admit I’m pretty flat-chested but I let my long hard nipples press into her deflated ones, declaring their superiority. I grabbed her jaw and squeezed it forcing her to face me while making her mouth pucker. ‘Stupid blonde twat.... you thought you could compete with ME?’ How dared this bitch walk into my office wearing a cat pin. I just lay there a few more minutes, prolonging her agony as she winced in pain with each breath under my weight.”

“Finally, I realized I couldn’t stay there forever. I pushed myself up and slid into a schoolgirl mount. But…I still couldn’t bring myself to get off of her. I’m not ready to stop basking in the moment. I just sat on her and stared at her wet and mud-tinged face and body. The tangled wet dirty hair. The anguished sobbing face. The sturdy shoulders. The muscular arms. The dispirited tits. All mine. I’m not a lesbian but I think I wanted to hump her right there.” Grace giggled.

“As much as I didn’t want to, I got off of her and stood up. She’s just lying there, all beat up at my feet. The winner stood upright while the conquered lay on the ground. And you know, I still couldn’t stop staring at her. Maybe it’s how a fisherman feels after landing a big tuna. But, I had work to do so it was time to get rid of this loser. ‘Get up, bitch,’ I  snapped, grabbing her hair and dragging her towards the dock. ‘Grab your shit, loser...’” I watched her fall to her hands and knees as I slung her to her boots and jacket she wore when she came here. Next, I grabbed my heels with one hand and Blondie’s hair with the other, dragged her into a gravel parking lot, bare feet and all, then shoved her down next to her Jeep. ‘Get your weak ass out of here, slut’ I ordered. I watched her crawl to the driver’s side door, again on her hands and knees. I looked at her ass covered with wet and muddy blue jeans. I decided to give Blondie one last parting message. I reared back my leg and with my bare foot, gave her a good kick in the ass. I stood there as she fumbled with her car keys, slipped through the door, started the engine and high tailed it out of here.”

“I had the whole thing caught on camera. I went home and watched it at least ten times. It’s on the catfight website. I called my boyfriend. We watched it together several more times. You can imagine how we spent the rest of the night.”

Interesting story, I’m thinking. Grace seems a bit sadistic. I wonder if she exaggerated.

“Did you find out anything more about the blonde?” I ask.

“No, I never saw her again and we didn’t give her the contract.”

“Well, maybe she learned her lesson,” I suggested. “She foolishly wore a cat pin while on business, she couldn’t take a body punch, her size advantage didn’t matter, she didn’t do much except pussy attack. Some people just aren’t cut out for fighting….I’m curious though…did you get her name?”

“Yes,” Grace answered…”Her name is Kelli,…she goes by…FyreCracka.”

“Huh?”…My jaw drops and eyes widen. “Kelli?…FyreCracka?” No, I’m thinking. This can’t be. Grace is lying. Yes, that’s it. She made this whole story up. No way would Kelli lose a one sided fight to this little twerp. Grace must have noticed my facial reaction.

“Do you know her?” she asks.

Ok. Now what? My mind is racing. Do I call her on her bullshit? Should I show her my cat pin and take her on right now? Should I tell Kelli about this? Alright, I’ve decided. I’m gonna kick her ass right now. This little liar needs a reality check. Where’s my cat pin? It’s in my handbag. I’m getting it out. I feel it. Got it!….No, I can’t. Not right now. I’m here to buy a lake house. I can’t get on her bad side. Shit!

“Kiva, do you know Kelli?” she repeats.

“Uh…No….I was thinking about …someone else.”

“Well ok then, thanks for your interest in purchasing one of our properties…and thank you for listening to my little story. If you can send me the last of the documents, I expect your application will go through smoothly. After the final approval, I’ll call you to set up a closing date…Kiva, did you hear what I said? You and I will talk to arrange a closing date.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, “You and I…will have a closing date.
Don’t bother walking a mile in my shoes. That would be boring. Spend thirty seconds in my head. That’ll freak you right out.

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Offline Tiberius J.C.

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #8 on: December 15, 2021, 01:16:31 PM »
Don't mean to sound heartless but you're getting a divorce, Kiva. You and Tom won't be needing that house now, and I feel you owe it not just to Kelli but to the whole board to take this little twerp apart. Or, better still, take Tom for every penny he's got in the divorce settlement and buy the property, but make her fight for her commission (double or quits).
And after you've beaten her (because you are going to beat her, aren't you?), I thought it would be kind-of fun if you were to leave her tied to one of the posts of the landing stage, half in, half out, of the water – bare-chested, naturally – and shivering.
Oh, and since you'll probably be soaking wet, bare-chested and shivering yourself by that stage, there's one last thing you could do to warm yourselves up while you have her tied up like that …
("I'm not a lesbian either, sucker, but you're right: staring into the eyes of a woman you've just defeated – especially when she's a sadistic, cocky little bitch like you – really is the sexiest thing in the world.")

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Offline Kiva

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #9 on: December 17, 2021, 04:38:37 AM »
I definitely want the lake house in any divorce settlement. And my cat and dog. And…oh yeah…my daughter. I thought about fighting Grace on a floating dock in the middle of the lake (see pic) or on a large pontoon boat. Actually, I think Kelli should get a rematch. Grace is the least deserving to own a win over Kelli. Total travesty!
Don’t bother walking a mile in my shoes. That would be boring. Spend thirty seconds in my head. That’ll freak you right out.

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Offline Tiberius J.C.

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #10 on: December 17, 2021, 07:55:46 AM »
I thought about fighting Grace on a floating dock in the middle of the lake (see pic)
Bikinis on a floating dock in the middle of the lake works for me.
Oh, and I'm a seeing a role now for the alligator.

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Offline h_k

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #11 on: December 17, 2021, 10:28:38 AM »
What I find annoying is that the little nitwit doesn't seem to realise Kelli was injured going into their fight. I hope you'll tell her that right before you two fight. That'll knock her sideways before you've even raised your fists.
Oh, and Kelli: next time you lose a fight (should that sad day ever arrive) or even win a gruelling one, why not hand your catpin to Kiva for safekeeping for a few weeks and let her check you over before she gives it you back? I worry about you.
« Last Edit: December 17, 2021, 10:55:30 AM by h_k »

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Offline Altered Ego

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #12 on: December 17, 2021, 02:35:05 PM »
Great concept K & K! And great work. Outstanding writing and storytelling as usual. As someone who loves the longer "extended" cut movies with all of the extra details added, I love this. Getting to know the other characters and the world better (especially a world as great as the Cat Pin world) is a really great. Oh, and single Kiva?- Call me! (Just kidding- maybe)  :)
Trillian: AlteredEgo

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Offline MrMarkH

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #13 on: December 17, 2021, 03:34:44 PM »
  She continues to keep an eye on us as she finishes hosing the mud from her body. Mother keeps us all down in the steamy mud until we are sure she is gone. It's utterly humiliating. We owe that woman an ass kicking. It will happen. The only question is which of us will be the lucky woman that gets to do it.

Here's hoping both sisters and the grand daughter get a chance to throw down with the blonde.

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Offline Tiberius J.C.

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Re: The Catpin Chronicles (Series)
« Reply #14 on: December 17, 2021, 05:24:27 PM »
  She continues to keep an eye on us as she finishes hosing the mud from her body. Mother keeps us all down in the steamy mud until we are sure she is gone. It's utterly humiliating. We owe that woman an ass kicking. It will happen. The only question is which of us will be the lucky woman that gets to do it.

Here's hoping both sisters and the grand daughter get a chance to throw down with the blonde.
Delighted to inform you that you've missed one of the greatest catfight stories ever:
Fyre's Fight Journal, Chapter 35: A Kitty Kissin' Catbrawl...Part 1
https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=78153.180
But she hasn't fought Uma yet, and the first thing I'm going to say to St Peter if he beckons me inside the Pearly Gates any time soon is: "Send me back! She hasn't fought Uma yet."