Karla Reinhardt vs Yahagi Fujimoto

[LunarOcean]

"Magic words please. A kiss for good luck while you're at it~" Yahagi cooed into her ear, cranking her opponent's neck forward as if to silence her before she could reply. All the while her thighs wrapped tightly around Karla's other leg, rubbing where it was at its most thickly muscled into the inner meat of Yahagi's. The ponytailed woman's upper body weight kept her other leg stretched against her shoulder, the splits possibly worse than the neck cran. It didn't help that those muscular thighs were rubbing so intensely it wasn't just an unwarranted massage but also getting *very* warm there, sweatily so.

The hold continued as did the stretching, bending, sexually charged torment. Her breasts rubbing constantly over Karla's impressive pair but the hint of what was to come came how her abs lightly scraped and scrubbed the redhead's. She'd wanted a fine taste of them ever since the match started.

After what for Karla presumably felt unreasonably long for a single hold, Yahagi would release her well tenderized opponent to flop onto the mat but mercy was not her strong suite. Karla was yanked to her feet and before she could so much as squeak in protest, Yahagi's arms slid over hers and pinned them to her sides. One slid upwards, biceps scraping along Karla's as if flattening down dough. The other pinned her wrists against her lower back, seizing one wrist against them. The poor redhead's body would be forced to dock tummy to tummy, tits to tits with her tormentor.

Immediately, the difference in physique was clear. Karla was likely around the peak of sheer physical fitness for her body type but while technically in the same weight class, she looked (and felt) like a lightweight compared to Yahagi. Karla's abs were just slightly bumpy and otherwise fairly streamlined, her breasts impressive if reigned in by her otherwise conservative attire. She was an envious specimen of bodily toning but Yahagi was making it clear she was all that and more. The gulf in sheer weight, voluptuosness, and size crushed against Karla's stomach muscles, rubbed against her helpless breasts, and panted against her face and neck.

It was not just a crushing, crumpling bearhug. Many let the opponent's upper and lower bodies bend back but Yahagi had positioned her arm so the whole of Karla's front was squashed to hers. A row of tight, tensed abdominal muscles received Karla's, calmly flattening them against the bumpy curvature of her hilly belly muscles. Her perking breasts perked harder still, the feel of Karla's tits even clothed arousing them to harden further and further.

All the while she was close enough to give Karla's face a few teasing nuzzles, going so far as to lick across her cheeks, the same smug smile as before in full view as she enjoyed Karla to her heart's content.

Yet Yahagi wanted to go a little further.

Slowly, she began to shift Karla left and right. Breasts did not just squish into breasts but rubbed and molded to one another's shape, Yahagi's spreading out over hers as their shoulders touched and brushed from the intensity of her squeeze. She leaned her body back, her abdominal muscles tensing even further. They became not only rough but sandpaper frictious, grinding Karla's against their hardened bulk, scraping her mercilessly to send shivers of electrifying sensation across her skin and up her spine.

"C'mon, show me what you're made of. You were so cool and cocky before; now you feel like cookie dough~" She smirked and leaned forth to try and lick her across the cheek again. She genuinely wanted to test her strength, to feel Karla tense every muscle in her body as hard as her own... and to feel that strength break and turn putty soft against her own.

[Monsy]

“I rather cut my lips off and eat them before they go anywhere your putrid face.” Unlike their sour coo, Karla said her jab into open air. Anyone nearby can hear it. The referee can. It was pure liquid hate driven by this woman’s incessant strategy to brush their body against her own like she was a friction meter that reacted to how much and how hard they can grind. The stretch was just painful. It became just that after a while. Painful. Her flexibility allowed survival despite it, nothing would rip, pull or break. What did more was how they played their legs. It wasn’t a message. It was like dragging a rusty ten-pronged rake against her legs. Her eyes continued to scrunch but her rage was scarred on her twitching upper lip. There weren’t any pained groans. Every pry, rub and bend brought this fury-infected snarl like she was a rabid dog. She huffed through her teeth and it sounded like a hiss. It became almost survivable, then they let go. Like a tight-knit rope having a dozen feet of slack, Karla’s legs splatted and her neck was alleviated. Both went numb and pinched at certain points. Little time to respite and register the pain as Yahagi pulled her up, pinned arms to her body, wrists to her back, and pressed firm, body-to-body.

The height made her neck ache to look up. Karla’s body was a sculpted statue. One could punch her anywhere, and the ripples of fat would hardly, if at all exist. That was her intention from her days as a true lightweight. To strengthen herself as those around her couldn’t see the prize she thought of herself as. But now she met a competitor who wanted to combat physiques. Their whole schtick was physiques and pressing them up against each other. It was primal. An urge she not longed for but bared nonetheless. The bearhug hold simply enraged her spine and back. Breathing was slow through the diaphragm, pressed tight, and her abdominals started to flex in rebellion. Mushrooming breasts also made her arch back, but she found little pleasure in face of her pain and incandescence. She looked up, seethed and hissed. Spit flung onto her lips and she was staring wide with furrowing brows. Then they closed and she looked elsewhere, still bearing teeth and hissing as she shook her head, many, many, many times. Her fists tightened and breath was going through a straw. Strain was hitting everywhere, plaguing the muscles. But she hadn’t used action to really cave to any demand. She needed to hold out. Through the pain and this humiliation. To survive like Reinhardts do and wait for opportunity. Or, if she must, create it. “Even now you’re still just as much as a Hundchen…”

[LunarOcean]

"Okay, try that now then." Yahagi spoke, letting out a pant as she doubled the dose and somehow flexed her body even harder.

That was all the warning the increasingly flattened woman, abs visibly molding to the muscled contour of Yahagi and breasts spreading along her own collarbone, was somehow squeezed even tighter. Shoulders touched as breasts painfully flattened and the air was increasingly crushed out of the smaller woman's abs, the crowd cheering as Yahagi quite literally rubbed it in (with all the gyrating, humping, grinding motions she was known) that her own body was superior. Yet that was but a lesser humiliation as Yahagi's cheek rubbed cat-like against Karla's, nuzzling her with cloying affection, suckling across and a few times directly onto her lips, all around treating her as little more than a toy.

All the while her flaring, impressive muscles did their worst to compact her fully against her body, enjoying the feeling of her struggling, toned physique fighting and failing to retain shape and strength against her ironclad body.

"Hundchen is boring; do you have any... not old timey, vaguely racist sounding insults? I'll make a deal. For every time you don't say that, I won't use your abs as a rubbing board." She giggled, bumping her own flared pair up Karla's. "I get the feeling you fall into habits and have a hard time breaking them... guess I'll have to squeeze it out of you then. Must say, those abs of yours must be real popular with some of the ladies here. I could scrape these against mine for hours..."

Her dreamy voice was offset by the very tangible, dense muscles that the more they crushed and grinded against Karla's belly, the harder, the warmer, and the sweatier they got. It was as if they weren't just the iron press against which Karla was flattening, but she was literally trying to grind her abs flat - to force Karla in front of the world to realize her body was simply weaker than Yahagi's, and to let her know Yahagi enjoyed ever bit of turning her into the angriest, flattest pancake she could, all by virtue of her own brute power.

[Monsy]

Every second deserved to be forgotten. It will be forgotten. All of it.
Karla’s hands balled so hard, if there weren’t any latex, her fingernails would carve a blood-soaked ditch in her palm. The same story wasn’t said about her lips, with the top teeth grinding against her lower lip until the corner leaked velvet. She was red from the rage, snarling. Her eyes didn’t blink. They were gaping and bloodshot. Her arms shivered and she twitched her ankles. Rub all they alike… Grind that putrid sweat. There weren't enough synonyms for disgust to fully describe how she felt. Not enough terms for violence. Or the rage that made her finger-tips feel like they’d pop right off. Thoughts started to blur together. Cohesion of strategy was melted. For a second too, she even forgot her own name. Just that they must suffer.

Squeeze them shoulder to shoulder if they may. It just brought them closer. The cheek to cheek was like having a million pungent parasites scraping across her face. It made her want to bite her own nose off. And she flinched each way when they wanted to go anywhere near her lips. Their hate-infectious self wouldn’t even inch anywhere near, for that was a line she couldn’t see herself coming back from.

Karla’s head turned towards them, finally giving some face-to-face… Then her head snapped like the viper, whipping her forehead into their nose bridge. Karla’s arms spread whilst her knees pressed into their body for added leverage. She’d whip her skull into their head again if she needed. All the red inside her eyes, the veins on her head that could erupt into fountains, held back by the desire for one move. Should she come free, the act was immediate. Karla would grab their wrist and tug them over her shoulder, turning so they’d sprawl over her collar in a fireman’s carry. One hand clawed into their thigh as though her fingernails were these mincing razors. Another hand clutched their hair, and curled so the tension could scream against their scalp. She didn’t wait for fan-fare. Instead, she tossed them over-shoulder to the front, popped her knee up and used the hair-grip to yank them into the bastion of bone waiting for them. A move she called LTEK!

[LunarOcean]

As annoying as Karla was, Yahagi could confidently say she was enjoying the match. The anger made the angry woman cuter; simple as. It reeked of repression and embarrassment draped in the sort of overblown edginess she disliked on paper but enjoyed teasing out of others in practice. It seemed if anything, an admission of weakness and insecurity. Not just from the intimacy of the mighty squeeze but the feeling of dominance. Yahagi was an abs woman not just in terms of her favorite part of the body but her favored weapon in sensual struggle. She came from a league where *everyone* had abs and even better, knew how to use them. It was a league where everyone was out to make it clear that theirs were superior in some way.

After all, few things felt better than tangibly knowing an oppoennt's strength, even fully flexed and hard as steel, was melting against your own. As the hold drew as many winces from the crowd as it did hoots and cheers, Yahagi went extra hard on completely annihilating Karla's abs. One final message to literally rub it in the gulf between them; this wasn't just about arousal as pride and power now fully entered the equation. You were born a certain height and with certain chest size but abs? Those you had to work on. Making someone's melt and soften under your own was forcing them to tacitly admit either their will or their flesh simply could not compare to yours.

That was what Yahagi was pouring her power into, enjoying the feeling of smug superiority when everything went to hell with a crack right to her face. The headbutt was one of the nastier ones. She almost thought she'd been hit by a closed fist but knuckles did not crack like that. She squeezed Karla tighter for a second before her hands released, gripping her head as her vision turned into blurs and blinking lights. The pain was immense; her head throbbed with the pounding pain of a pneumatic drill.

She had one headache already. Yahaig was soon going to have two. Before she could so much as grunt, she felt a familiar body hoist her over their shoulders, grunting as her weight was pressed onto a relatively resting place of Karla's shoulders. It was the nails in her thighs that tore her awake, gritting her teeth and trying to get a grip of the situation.

Not that it would have helped.

Before she knew it, the world spun and in a flash of a second, a knee flew to her face. This time, the crack was loud and audible. It was followed by the thud of Yahagi's body against the ropes and a series of gasps and shouts from the crowd.

Yahagi lay there, stone cold unconscious from possibly the nastiest blow to her head she'd taken her entire career.

[Monsy]

One brain-rattling headbutt and a skull-cracking knee solved all her problems. There wasn’t any ceremony or theatrical. One could check their phone messages, then when they looked up, the referee checked their state and called for the bell. Karla was fixed in place, looking up, trying to soothe herself as both hands combed her hair. They gripped her scalp, dug like claws and scratched down. She lurched, looking at the canvas where she just yelled to let the over-boiling emotional magma shoot out. It was brief. Enough time for her to settle. Then the referee came over to raise her hand, but she struck first, grabbing a fistful of their shirt collar, yanking them along as they walked towards the ropes, and threw between the middle and top to topple to the outside. Now the crowd’s neutrality turned back to boos…

She combed her hair back again, turning around, this time more composed, breathing deeply as she walked over to her downed opponent and spat on the ground by their head… “Disgusting… Little… Shit.”

Now she could leave.
Rather… She couldn’t leave fast enough, through the ropes, holding her stomach and power-walking up that ramp in hot pursuit for an ice-cold shower to rid herself of this wretched-wretched-WRETCHED time.

Victory by Knockout: Karla "Ray" Reinhardt