Phoebe vs Ayami

Bare knuckles match
No legs, no foot or handwear, only blows and grappling from arms allowed
Attire: Jeans
Victory conditions: 10 count KO

When her music came on, Ayami marched down the ramp with that cocky smirk on her face, wearing a pair of jeans and a white singlet that she would remove later. The crowd cheered for her, and she responded with a wave. She was a new fighter, and her fanbase hadn't quite developed yet - but she was hot, and people were shallow, shallow creatures.

Ayami knew very little about this Phoebe she was going to fight. One of her last matchs was more than a year ago, a fistfight of sorts similar to the match that was gonna happen between them in a short while. It had ended in a KO...for her opponent, and that wasn't very encouraging news for Ayami. She had a feeling this was going to be a vicious and bloody brawl, and she was determined to be the one inflicting the damage. Streetbrawls were not unfamiliar to her, but fistfights...she liked using her legs. She liked using her legs a lot.

She got herself up into the ring, and went into her corner.

Phoebe Oakley had been keeping herself busy as of late. She wasnâ€t exactly in high demand at AFW, but then, she wasnâ€t a member of that vast horde of girls who seemed to hover around the periphery of the league, being handed one-night contracts or other short-term deals, fighting once or never at all, and then disappearing, never to be seen or heard from again. No, she was fighting, and she was fighting regularly. This would be her first match since the Littlest Pet Shop of Horrors debacle, and, to Phoebeâ€s relief, it wasnâ€t anything silly like that last match had been. No, this was a straight fistfight.

To Phoebeâ€s chagrin, she would have to be topless. She hated being put on display like that. She wasnâ€t a hentai wrestler. Having to disrobe in front of crowds was positively humiliating for the cowgirl. She could only hope that her opponent, some new girl named Ayami, felt the same way. Whether she did or didnâ€t, it hardly mattered. Phoebe was going to rip this girl apart no matter what they were wearing.

The cowgirl made her way down to the ring wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a loose-fitting white top that she would remove once she got into the ring. She climbed up onto the apron, slipped through the ropes, and walked over to her corner, keeping a close eye on the girl across the ring, glaring at her.

Jenny responded to the glare with a smirk, her eyes never leaving Phoebe as her opponent made her way to the corner. She sooooo wanted to break this girl upon the curb. Show no weakness, she told herself. Show no weakness. She pulled her singlet over her head, not showing a single hint of the humiliating nakedness she was very much feeling, exposing her bare, taut body and her perky breasts. Resisting the urge to take a deep breath, she stepped to the center of the ring to meet her opponent.

"When you lose," she said, in her most condescending and smug tone possible. "I just want you to know you had the chance to walk away from this, cow fucker."

Seeing her opponent smirk, Phoebe would smirk as well. The Japanese girl obviously had no idea what she was getting herself into. Phoebe would reach down and grab onto the bottom of her top. Though she hated fighting topless, she would show no hesitation and resisted the urge to take a deep breath as she quickly pulled the top over her head, revealing her naked chest, her toned, taut body, her perky breasts. She and her opponent were actually very evenly matched, though Phoebe would be loath to admit anything of the sort.

She stepped forward, meeting her opponent in the center of the ring. Phoebe would leave no space between them as she pressed against the Japanese woman, breasts pushing into breasts, forehead pushing against forehead. “And when you lose,” Phoebe replied, just as condescending and smug as her opponent, “know that you had the same chance, you squinty-eyed cunt. Now, why donâ€t you get those ugly little mosquito bites you call tits away from me and go run crying home to your mama?” Phoebe would give her foeâ€s shoulder a hard shove.

Ayami pressed right back against Phoebe, breast to breast, forehead to forehead, their abs almost touching. Ayami could feel her breath quickening, and it took quite a bit to muster up the strength to maintain her smug grin, hiding the boil that had started to churn in her body. The minute to the rung bell seemed so far away now, and it couldn't come sooner. Phoebe seemed to agree, as she gave Ayami a short, sharp shove. Ayami did everything in her power to maintain her composure and not explode or looked shocked, and she was still smiling when she returned the favor by swinging back her arm and slapping Phoebe across the fuckin' face.

"You're gonna cry tonight." she said, with sweet venom. "You're gonna cry harder than when your redneck dad beat you to sleep with his belt. Or did he do more than that?"

It was a weird feeling, pressing together with another girl, four naked breasts squashing against each other, nipples hardening and stabbing into each other. Phoebe had fought topless before, but this staredown just felt so raw, so primal. She couldn’t stop grinning evilly, even as Ayami did her very best to tear Phoebe down and stab at her psyche.

The hard, stinging slap to her face did wipe the grin from Phoebe’s face, at least temporarily. But Phoebe would recover quickly, her head snapping back to face forward, her body remaining in contact with Ayami’s all the while. “Fuck you, cunt,” she would say, grinning crazily. Gathering up a big glob of saliva in her mouth, Phoebe would spit at Ayami from point-blank range, letting her spit splatter all over her new enemy’s face.

“I’m going to kick your ass all the way back down to the fifty-cent whorehouse you’re from, you pus-dripping piece of Jap trash,” she hissed.

Ayami didn't flinch. She didn't blink, didn't move to wipe the spit away, and she didn't show a single flash of anger. Inside, the fever pitch of emotion that was her rage and her hate had gone so high it went cold. She felt that chill keenly now, and it spoke to her clearly, and it promised her that she wouldn't just beat Phoebe, she would break her into a thousand pieces. She wasn't just going to knock her own, she was going to make sure she wouldn't get back up.

She angled down a little, pressing her spit-stained face to Phoboe's, and kissed her fully on the lips until the bell would ring. Then, she would violently shove her opponent aside, and get into a boxer's stance.

Phoebe could read the look on Ayami’s face: her spit had exactly the effect that she had intended. The Japanese girl was humiliated, looking like a hopeless, pathetic piece of garbage as she stood there, her face dripping with Phoebe’s saliva. Ayami would not be able to save face after this, especially not once Phoebe had ripped her apart and broken her down into a sobbing, sniveling little wreck. This match was going to destroy the girl, and Phoebe couldn’t be happier to have the chance to do that to such an arrogant whore.

But it was Phoebe’s turn to be embarrassed next, as her opponent’s face smashed against her own. Phoebe could feel her own cool spit rubbing off onto her cheeks and her nose. Worse yet, Ayami actually had the audacity to kiss Phoebe, something which disgusted the American to no end. She shoved against Ayami hard as the Japanese wrestler did the same, the two of them separating as the bell rang. “Fucking lesbo,” Phoebe would growl, as she would put her fists up and beckon for Ayami to try to come at her.

"Never been with a girl before? You tasted soooooo sweet, redneck." She said, wiping away the lingering spit with her bare arm, before quickly resuming the guard. "If you weren't born from shit, I might even fuck you. Hell, might do it anyway after I wreck your ass. Only for you." Ayami winked. found something to needle her about: her opponent was a hetero, an endangered species in the AFW roster ecosystem, and she was going to take full advantage of that.

She approached her opponent slowly at first, cautiously narrowing the gap between them, her arms raised and ready to defend against any sudden attack by the Caucasian swine. She then began to move more erratically, her footwork almost a dance, making a sudden swerve to the right to see what Phoebe would do, throwing out half-hearted jab feints, before she surged in for a quick one-two jab combo, testing her opponent's defenses.

“Oh, you big cunt,” Phoebe would growl, as Ayami taunted her about sex. “How about I shove the broken arm I’m gonna give you so far up your diseased pussy that it gets stuck, huh? I’ll fucking mess you up, you stupid bitch.” She smirked and wiped her own spit from her face. “Or maybe I’ll shove it up your ass instead. Would be really damn funny listening to you scream as your whole fucking ass gets torn to pieces. Just ripped apart, so that you can never shit again without sobbing.”

The fantasy was a very pleasing one for Phoebe. If Ayami tempted her, the cowgirl wouldn’t hesitate to make it into a reality.

Phoebe would approach Ayami with her fists up, watching Ayami as the Japanese girl watched her. When the Asian started dancing around, Phoebe would keep her feet planted, waiting. Ayami swerved right and threw a couple of half-hearted jabs. Phoebe easily deflected them. Then, she struck, charging in and throwing a couple of hard jabs to Ayami’s breasts. As she did, she felt her opponent’s fists smacking into her own chest, causing Phoebe to wince and growl frustratedly. But, with any luck, her own blows would strike home, too.