Phoebe vs Ayami

"Chicken...Cow" Ayami called out weakly, heavy breaths between each word. "Cunt....Coward...Inbred piece of shit..." She wasn't even sure she was facing Phoebe right, nor was she sure whether the cowgirl could even hear her. She saw a faint figure clinging to the ropes. She didn't want to go there; she wanted Phoebe to come to her. She had to be hurt, as hurt as she was at least.

"Where's...Where's that bitch mouth of yours now?" she continued. "No...No more games. No more...hiding. You meet me in the centre and we e-end this."

“F-fuck you!” Phoebe would spit, angrily jabbing a finger in the general direction of Ayami as she would try to focus her vision on the Japanese fighter. “Fucking lousy pus-dripping cunt! I’m going to…fucking kill you, bitch! My mouth is just fine, whore!” She would ball her hand up into a fist and shake it at Ayami, wishing that she could strike the bitch down with just a well-placed verbal barb. That being impossible, Phoebe would have to resort to her fists to finish the job.

“If you’re ready to stop playing games, then…then I’m ready to finish you off! Bitch!” Phoebe would say, as she would carefully push off of the ropes, stumbling towards the center of the ring, watching Ayami the whole time. Her steps were slow and uneven, as she had trouble maintaining her balance, but little by little she would make her way towards their final collision. “Come on…come on…”

"Y-you're dead, you know that? Dead." It was slow hard to articulate words with a swollen, dry mouth, but Ayami thought she conveyed the fuck you clearly across.

Ayami took her own shaky foot forward, her legs threatening to buckle with each step. As soon as she reached striking distance of Phoebe, Ayami would throw a punch forward at Phoebe's breast. It was lopsided, with too little strength in it, and it hurt her even as she extended her arm, but Ayami threw it, hoping, just hoping, to score the straw on the camel's back.

“No, bitch,” Phoebe would growl, as the two injured fighters stumbled back towards the center of the ring, towards each other. “You are. You’re dead, bitch…”

It took a while, but eventually the two managed to stagger back within range of each other. Phoebe knew she couldn’t take more than a few punches at this stage of the battle, and she would strike as fast as she could, throwing a hook at Ayami’s chest, trying to pulverize the Japanese girl’s breast underneath her knuckles. As she threw that punch, however, Ayami threw a straight punch right at her own tits, and Phoebe would cry out in pain as she felt her opponent’s fist slam into her breasts. The cowgirl stumbled backwards again, waving her arms to keep herself balanced, and only barely succeeding. Once she had steadied herself, she would clutch at her chest, hissing through her teeth.

“Fuck…fuck…”

Ayami didn't take the mutual punch quite as well as Phoebe. She cried out in pain, a bit of spittle flying out of her mouth, and fell down on her bum. The count started again. Oh yes, the counted started for what must have been the up teem time, and Ayami just thought about giving up right there. Lay down and save the cowgirl the trouble of wrecking what was left of her. She started sobbing again, trying to hold back her tears, and it was only pride that made her get up, weakly, and shakily, to follow through with the fight.

She didn't want to punch anymore. Her left arm was hurt by the earlier attack, and her right was tired of compensating for it. Rather, she surged forth, trying to catch Phoebe in a half-clinch, half-bearhug, trying to press their sweaty, broken bodies against each other, trying to squeeze the life out of her.

Phoebe staggered back and clutched at her chest, almost whimpering after the cross-counter, biting her lip hard to try not to start sobbing. To her surprise and delight, Ayami fell flat on her ass following the exchange. The cowgirl managed a snort and a half-laugh, loving the sight of her foe sitting down on the mat, listening to the referee count her out.

Soon enough, however, Ayami was back up, and she came after Phoebe quickly. Thankfully, she didn’t punch or otherwise strike the American girl. She charged forward, wrapped her arms around Phoebe, and gave her an aggressive, angry hug. Phoebe would grunt upon impact, and would stumble back several steps after Ayami ran into her before she would finally plant her feet. In retaliation, Phoebe would wrap her arms around Ayami, trying to squeeze her back, mashing their broken bodies together in this dueling bearhug.

Breast to breast, abs to abs, sweat to sweat. Ayami squeezed with all her strength, and Phoebe more than returned the favor, their broken bods crushing into each other. The pain was unbearable. How did Ayami ever think this was the easier path to ending this match. Her wounded breasts and her pounded body ached tenfold as they were pressured. Ayami began sobbing even harder, her head rested snugly on the cowgirl's right shoulder, her hot tears trickling down her face onto her opponent's back..

"Fuck...Fuck..."

Phoebe was starting to feel like she wasn’t going to be able to finish this match. Her whole body was crying out in pain, and her arms were slung around Ayami awkwardly, keeping a tight hold on the Japanese fighter, but not doing much to try to maneuver her. Tears were still coming down Phoebe’s cheeks, and, with her face buried in Ayami’s right shoulder, those salty droplets would dribble down onto the other girl’s back, as Ayami’s tears similarly poured onto Phoebe’s naked back.

“Fuck…” Phoebe groaned. She had no choice but to keep on squeezing Ayami, clinching tightly with her, their bruised and distended breasts and pulverized abs crushing together in a terrible, splittingly painful way. Phoebe wanted to separate, but she knew that she couldn’t pull Ayami’s arms away from her body. And so the dueling bearhugs would go on, both girls trying to crush the other, trying to finish off what had been a terrible, blindingly painful match.

Ayami thought about all the vicious threats she spewed at the redneck. It all seemed so long ago now, even thought it was probably less than a few painful minutes ago. She had threatened to beat her after she was down, and walk her around the ring like the bitch that she was. She had promised all kinds of special agonies upon her defeated foe, to belly punch her until she cried blood. She had promised to pull down her jeans and ravish her where she laid, fucking her heterosexual sex silly until she turned nice and gay. She had promised a lot of things, and she wanted so badly to deliver.

And thus, Ayami was crying not just because everything in the world hurt at the moment, but because she knew -she knew- she just wouldn't be able to deliver.

After a hug that could have lasted 3 minutes or forever, Ayami's arms were the first ones to slip. She slowly, ever slowly, relinquished her bearhug, her arms drifting to her side, hanging lifelessly. She was done. The pressure on the cowgirl's body gradually ceased and Phoboe was the only one applying pressure now.

She saw the lights flicker for a moment. Or was it her vision? Either way, that was the last thing she saw as Phoboe squeezed her unconscious.

Phoebe kept on squeezing Ayami. She kept on trying to crush her as she felt herself being crushed, with many of the same thoughts that swirled through Ayami’s mind swirling through Phoebe’s as well. She felt like she was going to break in half. When Ayami broke first, it seemed like a miracle to Phoebe. She suddenly wasn’t under terrible, tremendous pressure anymore. She was the only one squeezing. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Phoebe would roar loudly, sobbing a couple of times in the middle of it, as she would keep squeezing Ayami, tightening her hug and continuing to crush Ayami for a full minute before letting her go.

But Phoebe wouldn’t let Ayami drop to the canvas. She would grab onto the Japanese girl’s neck with one hand, starting to squeeze it, trying to crush Ayami’s windpipe. Then, balling her other hand into a fist, Phoebe would scream and deliver one last hard punch right to Ayami’s fucking face, dropping her foe to the canvas.

“Fuck…that’s fucking right…you fucking whore,” Phoebe would growl. Gathering up one more glob of spit in her mouth, she would spit straight downwards, letting the saliva splatter over Ayami’s naked breasts. The lesbo had tried to destroy Phoebe, had promised to fuck her after the match. Well, Ayami wouldn’t get the chance. Phoebe would ruin her just for thinking she had a chance.

As the referee moved in, Phoebe felt her legs beginning to buckle. Moaning in pain, the cowgirl would stumble towards the ropes, barely catching herself on the middle rope to avoid going down herself, as she waited to see what would happen with this count.