Phoebe vs Ayami

Phoebe's blows struck home and Ayami stumbled back a little, grunting in pain. Her breasts stung, and this was not the opening exchange she had envisioned.

But her taunts were working. Ayami was usually the pissy one in any encounter, but it seems she met her match in this little redneck skank.

"For a purported white heterosexual woman," Ayami said, adopting that cool, smug smile again. "You sure like touching my breasts. Me? I got an excuse. But you, Madam, need to get straight out of the closet. This isn't even Texas. Your kind is welcome here."

She gave a brief 'bring it' hand gesture to Phoebe, before resuming her boxing stance.

Both women’s fists smashed into the other’s breasts. Phoebe winced and took a step back, putting her fists up again protectively. Ayami backed up, as well. But she didn’t stop running her mouth, launching insults at Phoebe, trying to gain the psychological advantage.

“Just for the record here, bitch, I’d love nothing more than to fuck you right up the ass with one of those giant dildos that your kind loves so much. But not because I get off on it or anything like that. No, because without lube that thing would tear up your anus like a wolf tearing up a deer carcass. And let me tell you, I would find that hilarious. I would laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and your whole fucking life you’d have to shit through a tube. Wouldn’t that just be the fuckin’ funniest?” Phoebe would smile smugly again.

“And by the way, I wouldn’t call those bug bites breasts.” She would move in again, throwing a couple of quick jabs at Ayami’s face, then attempting to throw a hook for her chin.

"Not as funny as you, the littlest homosexual in the closet." Ayami retorted. Well, her opponent was certainly laying it on thick, but it was less the insult and more the idea that Phoebe thought she was insulted that ate at her. Still, this was going to be a difficult fight, but Ayami had sworn to wreck her: broken arm, bruised abs, making her cry on the ground unable to rise, she didn't care. She would take what she could get, and she would inflict it. Everytime they intersected a corridor in the locker room, she wanted Phoebe to remember the beating today.

"Lady, my breasts are clearly huge! If they were tiny, your shit aim wouldn't even touch them tomorrow!"

As if to demonstrate, she leaned forward as if to invite a punch, then quickly darted back to let them hit air. Then the hook came in, and she weaved her head to the side, turning what was probably a knockdown into a painful, panic-inducing graze against her cheek. Ayami came in close then with a right under punch to Phoebe's gut, hoping to double her over

“Holy fuck, you’re terrible at this. At least try to come up with a real comeback, bitch. Something a little better than ‘Dur hur hur, you’re actually gay!’” Phoebe would say, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly at Ayami’s incompetence in that regard.

Ayami’s next comment, though, disputing Phoebe’s insult and asserting that her breasts were huge, was just too much. Phoebe grinned, then broke out laughing, and laughed for quite a while before she was able to regain her composure, wiping tears of amusement from her eyes. “That’s a fucking good one,” Phoebe would say, before charging in and taking her shots at Ayami. She managed to score a blow to the cheek—not a knockdown punch, but positive nonetheless.

Ayami rallied, however, and slammed a fist into Phoebe’s gut. “Gacckh!” Phoebe spat, doubling over in pain as her gut was bludgeoned. Furious, she would let her own fist rise up, swinging through a big arc as Phoebe would try to slam a punch right into Ayami’s crotch!

Ayami did not take the low blow well. Where Phoebe doubled over, Ayami practically crumpled, closing her eyes and screaming in pain and holding her crotch with one arm, her other one raised as a token sort of defense. She lost the last retort in her head.

Phoebe’s gut hurt following the hard punch from Ayami, but it had put her in a perfect position from which to attack her foe’s crotch, and that one simple uppercut to the cooch had yielded remarkable results. Ayami crumpled like a paper bag, clutching at her wounded privates, her other hand held up in a pathetic attempt at putting up a defense.

“Ha…bitch,” Phoebe would growl. She was tempted to just grab Ayami’s head and slam the girl’s face right into her knee, but she remembered that they were only supposed to use their arms. It was a fistfight. That restriction was only going to get more annoying given time.

So, instead, Phoebe would grab onto Ayami’s hair with one hand and lift her up so her face was visible. Then, Phoebe would ball her other hand into a fist and simply begin hammering away at Ayami’s face, as hard as she could, weaving her punches around her foe’s arm as she tried to batter Ayami’s features into an indistinguishable pulp.

Ayami made a little sound when the first punch smacked right into her face, some mix between a whimper and a yelp. The second punch slammed right into her nose, and she could feel the blood leaking from them. The third punch never had a chance. Ayami rallied herself, trying her best to forget the sting in her privates and the hurt on her face, and launched herself onto Phoebe in a double collar tie clinch, closing the distance to prevent anymore face jabs.

If successful, her bare hands will tear at her opponent's hair at the point where they formed the collar tie.

Phoebe had Ayami’s hair held tightly in one fist while the other one pounded on the girl’s exposed face. Phoebe got in two hard shots that managed to break open Ayami’s nose before her Japanese foe would be able to rally and push herself forward, moving into a clinch with Phoebe in order to prevent the cowgirl from being able to line up any more point-blank jabs. As she was maneuvered by her foe, Phoebe would feel Ayami’s hands tearing into her hair. The cowgirl winced and swore under her breath. “You stop that, you dumb fuck…”

To try to convince Ayami to stop, Phoebe would pull her fist back and ready another hard punch. This one would not be aimed at the face. No, this punch would be a hard right hook, one which slammed into the side of Ayami’s body as Phoebe would try to continue her assault on her foe, giving her no chance to recover.

Ayami screamed internally at the blow to her side, the sudden hacking cough the only indication of the pain she felt. Fuck this redneck piece of shit, she thought, she wasn't going to let her get away with this kind of abuse.

Ayami seemed to release her clinch, removing her right arm from the collar tie that she had around Phoboe's neck...only for that arm to immediately go for a point-blank elbow strike right to the Phoboe's face, the remaining collar tie hopefully holding her in place for it to strike her silly.

Phoebe was definitely winning, and, despite the pain of having her hair almost pulled out by the roots, she would grin like a devil about it. Ayami talked all kinds of shit, but, when it came down to it, she just could not compete with Phoebe. The American fighter was clearly better, and she was proving it all over again every single second. Phoebe pounded on Ayami’s face. Then, when she went in for a clinch, Phoebe pounded on her side.

Ayami released the clinch and pulled back. Phoebe cocked her fist back for another punch to the face, but before she could do that, Ayami’s elbow smacked into her nose. The cowgirl gurgled in surprise and pain, as she would stumble backwards—at least as far as she could go while still being held onto—and bring her free hand up to rub at her bruised face. “Damn bitch…you go down like the fucking dog you are,” she would hiss, bringing her arms up to try to defend her face for a few seconds while she stopped being dizzy and got ready to really kick Ayami’s ass, throwing a quick, wild jab to force Ayami to keep her distance.