Setting a Pattern: Spectre vs Yuri Yoshika & Natsuki Muramoto

[Malkavia]

As Spectre shoved Natsuki to the side, all that pink lion's fight was—well. Monika could put it this way. The body Spectre left behind on the mat twitched and sputtered and whined. The sound it made — "Bleeeeeeeeeeennnn.." — was like a wheezing engine struggling with a burnt-out radiator. But Natsuki herself? That personality had left the building.

(So much for your plans, huh Moni? All that white-boarding, all those lovely pictures with the two Xs and that one big O! But they didn't execute a single play, did they? Nope—not a single one. That big metal fist threw a wrench into the belly of your engine, and the whole thing went screeeeeEEEEEEEECH!)

Wait.

Spectre rolled out of the ring — as the same side as Monika and Sayori.

And she glared at Sayori from behind her mask. Leonine, violet eyes. Monika clenched both her fists.

"Wha...?" Sayori backed a step away from the demon in a purple skirt. The metal-and-flame skull and crossbones stalking her way.

And just like that, all the paralysis in Monika's bones vanished. Like an engine finally turning over. Spectre was closer to Sayori than Monika, but two bounds across the ringside fixed that in under a second. The president was taller, faster, stronger than her teammates, and it all came to the surface as the crowd started to boo and Sayori froze like a scared rabbit.

Monika aimed to jump, to wrap an arm around Spectre's throat, and to fall backwards—a flying rear naked choke.

[Monsy]

When it came to this doll…

One look into her eyes and Spectre saw something special, picturing how that face would melt into tears and distress. It hit like a drug. She became an addict, needed her fix, and approached with such focus that she almost missed Monika’s flying attack.

Almost.

When the first arm sunk around, Spectre grabbed it with a subconscious movement. She pulled it down, tucked her chin, then hunched her body forward. The falling back aspect was the bigger issue. Monika was bigger, had a grip on her. Naturally, Spectre could only fall back-- but awkwardly. She went to her hip, having committed to the fall with her shoulder veering back.

“Yeah, get her Monika!”
“Show her you don’t mess with the Dokis!”

Two people in the front row spoke up. Black hair, T-shirts with predictable and common logos, denim pants and glasses. Both of them. Straight from a reading club.

Spectre had turned over to her front, grabbing a hold of Monika’s hands as a form of grip as she tried to straddle the girl and place her latex-sleeved hand over Monika’s mouth, grabbing her face.

“You must be the leader.”

She looked over-shoulder, back at Sayori and squinted.

When she looked back at Monika, her glare sharpened.

“You’re in my way.”

[Malkavia]

The crowd got it. Or at least those two boys got it. Monika was so dang GOOD!

Only, it was the kind of good where she dove in to do a rescue, but the rescue kind of only slowed the monster down by getting Monika herself eaten.

And that meant Sayori was going to have her turn really soon, which is probably why Monika locked eyes on her instead of the person she was fighting. They were both scrambling, but Monika was on the bottom, and Sayori could tell. She didn't like being there.

"Run Sayori!"

The order from the President came out in a hiss while Monika bucked and swung and rolled and kicked! Which somehow didn't do very much! Kind of like a fish jumping and wriggling while a bear pinned it down with its paw. Sayori felt her gut kind of climb up her throat and hang out there in a big throbbing lump.

"Uh..."

You heard the President, right?

Yeah, except there was NO WAY she was going to do that. Sure, her heart was going a million miles a minute or so, and her fingers and toes buzzed, and her face felt really hot, but there was no way she was going to run. Nuh-uh!

So she was going to do an ATTACK right?

She could picture the moves in her head: Kick her back! Punch the back of her head!

But see the thing was, only part of Sayori was here thinking. The other part of her was looking over at Yuri and Natsuki. They STILL weren't moving, even though it was their boss getting piled on, and Sayori couldn't blame them because their bellies looked...

Looked...

(Gosh, she felt like throwing up)

"SAYORI!"

Sayori grabbed her face, which was wrong since she should've been grabbing Spectre's face, but she couldn't do that and this was the nearest other face. Her knees started wobbling like jell-o.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—"

[Monsy]

Spectre’s heart beat peacefully with her new toy.

A yarn ball. A cute little thing to swat at, pick apart and pounce on. She watched the thing thrash. Kicks and turns, wriggling and rolling. Spectre was latched to their waist. Her thighs curled against the ribs and her claw was over their mouth.

“Mm..” If she dealt with Monika now, who would defend her prize? Yuri and Natsuki hadn’t shown any signs of life. It would be no one. Sayori. Sa-yor-i.

“Hm~Hm~”

She now looked at Monika's frame with new intent. Her eyes went past the chest and onto the belly. Buttons, buttons. Too many buttons.

She grabbed the sides of the uniform then pried it apart so buttons snapped from their threads and the belly opened to her. Then she snapped those hands up to grab two handfuls of Monika’s throat. Squeezed. She looked between her forearms at the naked target. Beautiful skin that made her blush and her loins warm. Her mouth got wetter, thoughts filled with ideas. She lifted a knee, then shadowed over Monika’s stomach and drove it deep. Thrust.

Then she did it again.

Line it up. Thrust.
Line it up. Thrust.

Boom. Boom.
Boom. Boom.

[Malkavia]

Pop—Pop—Pop! The buttons on Monika's shirt flew off one right after the other so that the sounds almost ran together, like a zipper.

"Mnnng—" Monika felt like a dog with her underside exposed. Naked. She became hyper-aware of every little sensation on her bare belly, like she could feel the otherwise imperceptible shifting of the air over her belly button.

When Spectre loomed over Monika, she felt something strange. And awful. Strangely awful. She watched Spectre raise her knee and imagined the pain. The way it would sear across her belly. She felt nauseated even before the impact and wanted to roll away.

Except she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The signal from her brain down to her legs and fingertips just...didn't fire.

Spectre's knee hammered Monika's gut. Monika threw her head back, gagged for a few seconds, then wailed.

Spectre slammed her again.

Monika's eyes flew wide with panic. Her belly felt like jello, trembling while the rest of her body shivered.

SLAM.

Once, Monika had watched her uncle chop wood with a dull axed. Every blow splintered the wood, reduced its integrity, pushed it one step closer to splitting down the middle. Monika's belly felt the same, and she writhed on the mat.

SLAM!

"KOOOoooo...haaaaaahahaaahn..." She was sobbing, tears running freely. She curled to one side, her torn uniform slinking down her shoulder. When Spectre SLAMMED her belly again, Monika's hands flew to the bruising skin, her fingers claw like over the carnage.

"P-p...p..." Before she could force out the begging, simpering pleeeeease, Spectre's knee buried itself into Monika's gut. She felt it collapse, cratering. Her hands grabbed and slid pathetically against the leg, and she couldn't help but imagine her insides rearranging themselves around the knee now pressed against her spine. She let out a low whine.

It was the worst pain she had ever felt. She saw black spots. Was she about to pass out?

But while Monika was distracted, Sayori was moving. She was only a blur in her President's peripheral vision, but she was charging fast—a spear flying head-first at Spectre's side!

[Monsy]

Sunk Cost Fallacy

It manifests by investing so much that you can’t pull out. That being this girl’s gut. And after a while, the leg starts to cramp. She starts to feel her size. Her thigh was functional Frank, but Frank was unionized and only worked for so long. But right about that point is when she started to feel the buzz. When her eyes fluttered without changing, her brain was placed in a warm weighted blanket, allowing it to relax, focus and feel the rhythm of skin-smacks.

SCHMACK. SCHMACK. SCHMACK.

She was hitting deeper.

She can hear it in their diaphragm on the… Sixteenth, knee? Pushed deep, pressing down, tears freshly sobbing that Spectre blushed for. Their gut, black and bulging with newly-wed welts. And beneath that, there was the P-p… Ppppp… Yessss.

Pleasssseeeee…

Spectre exhaled sharply. Between a moan and a guttural grunt. She was right at their limit.

Fuck. Yes.

“Oomph--” Then from out of NOWHERE, a new animal joined the fray. Spectre whipped to the side like a feather, crashing against the ground then rolled through. When they stopped, Spectre straddled the lost Sayori beneath her, hand on her throat, clawing and squeezing.

“Oh. I’ve been waiting for you… Sayori.” Spectre leaned in, then adjusted her grip so one hand was on the chin, then the other on-top of her head. “You’re my free piece of punch-meat. Different from the others. I think you’ll make the best screams.” Using her grip, she tried to turn Sayori’s look towards Monika.

“What do you think, leader?”

[Malkavia]

When Spectre launched herself out of the ring towards Monika, Yuri couldn't help but feel a glimmer of relief.

Ah, good. She has violated the rules, targetting a noncombattant at ringside. They'll have to disqualify her.

As Spectre mounted Monika, however, the referee just watched, as if he expected her to submit. As he stood by and did nothing, the tenor of Spectre's ministrations to stomach became almost difficult to watch. Monika's screams made Yuri's ears ring.

"Of course..." Yuri muttered. Her eyes glazed over. Her skin buzzed as a heavy realization settled over her bones. Of course they wouldn't care.

Yuri waited numbly for it to end.

Just as Yuri was dissociating from her reality, however, Natsuki was wrenching her head out of a red and purple fog. She peeled herself off the mat, hissing as something angry boiled inside her. She got to her feet, and her gait had a lumbering, unsteady way to it, but her eyes shone with complete clarity of purpose.

How dare that CREEP leave me unpinned! She recognized the thought was crazy. But really, how dare she? As if Natsuki was an unripe banana Spectre could just hang up and pick later at her leisure.

As for Monika—she could barely move. Even a slight twinge in her toes made her stomach seize in agony. She could only watch as Spectre rolled and twisted and finally pinned Sayori against the ground.

"Get...Off—!" Her voice was ragged, and when she rolled herself onto her knees, her shattered abs flared with such burning that she curled up like a pillbug, whimpering.

And then there was Sayori. Sayori's brain couldn't quite catch up to the present. She was staring up at Spectre, squirming and panting, her face pale and eyes wide, but her brain was stuck back with Monika. And all those horrible punches—over and over and over. This was supposed to be a game! A game! But there was no way any game played for fun could be as mean as whatever made Monika make those horrible noises.

"S-stop it! Stop it!"

Throughout all this, Yuri had lay back in a kind of meditative trance — as if she were out in the crowd. Or above the crowd. Watching all this happen. Sayori, however, made such dissociation impossible, and despite all her muscles feeling as heavy as a lead X-ray vest, she got to her feet and did the only idea that occurred to her.

PAM, PAM, PAM!

She bound across the mat. She was not planning to hit Spectre herself, of course. After all, any attack involving Yuri as its principle strike-point was doomed from the start. But she had a partner.

Natsuki.

She grabbed Natsuki around the waist

"Yuri, what fuck—"

...Bounded to the ringside...

"YURI WAIT—"

...And tossed Natsuki headfirst at Spectre.

[Monsy]

But it was a game.

Er, rather. SAYORI was the game. MONIKA was the game. Yuri AND Natsuki.

The gamiest game on today’s plate, fun for one and sorry for the rest. Speaking of the rest, Monika was shouting, wasn’t she? Spectre glanced at her, tipped up her chin and prepared a glorious maiden punch to Sayori’s untouched belly. GET OFF--

“Who? Her?” Then a smile flinched beneath the mask. “She’s my punch doll.”

And right as she’s about to say grace to Google Project Zero, a human projectile soared at her. Spectre rolled away from her prize but spared herself from becoming Natsu-paste. Landing on a knee, she glanced back, then forward, furrowed her brows then sighed out, mumbling... “What the fuck.” Though, another part of her wrote that down for later. How heavy was Dot again?

Right. Three-two-one-GO! She raced two metres, leaping left so her sole hit the edge of the steel steps, bouncing up to the apron on her opposite foot, then bouncing twice back to her left off the middle turnbuckle pad, and finally springboarding to the top rope. She sunk, bending her knees, leaning forward, then jumped with a slanting twist; a clockwise spin that ended with throwing a showtime kick right at the giant’s face.

[Malkavia]

Dang. Natsuki could hear herself whistling Whistling as she sliced through the air. She felt the weightlessness of it, saw Spectre rushing up in her vision. Then the moment coalesced in her head.

She was a fluffy, white cat, screaming through the air, claws outstretched.

"RAAAAAAARGH!!!"

And then, as her mouth was opening in a war-scream and spittle flew from her lips, Natsuki missed. Her face slammed into concrete. She rolled over her shoulder, into a slump, and lie still.

Yuri felt every inch of her skin turn much to hot as her tongue turned the texture of a cincilla's back after a sandbath. "N-Natsuki!!" She was pressing her fingers to her lips. Pressing and yet she couldn't quite feel the skin.

As Spectre charged through the ropes and alit overhead, a ninja-shaped shadow over Yuri's face, she knew in her gut—yes. Yes. She deserved this. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the release of something massive from her shoulders as she waited for Spectre.

CRACK!

The giant tumbled in an instant. Her face smashed the canvas, and then she was...a pancaked giantess. Her face rested against the mat. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Drool poured out of her open mouth and formed a dark puddle near her cheek. As the seconds ticked by, a phantom twitch stirred her body.

"Sayori. SAYORI. You need to move, please—"

Sayori was not moving. She was a Sayori-shaped statue outside the ring, standing near Monika, who was all..curled up with a voice that wasn't even her own, it was so scraggly and cracked from what Spectre'd done to her gut. And then there was Natsuki over there, and—hoo boy. Sayori didn't even like thinking about Natsuki. Had she moved since she'd...landed? OK yeah. She was breathing. Sayori saw her breathing. OK.

Sayori's eyes flit from Doki to Doki. Two unconscious, one begging her to run. She squeezed her eyes closed, then squeezed her hands together at her stomach. She breathed, and she trembled.

"H-hey Sp-sp...Sp-sp-sp..."

Oooooooh come ooooon! Now was not the time for studdering Sayo!!!! Her tummy roiled with frustration and ANGER at herself. She squeezed her hands together at her chest, kind of like prayer. She wasn't religious or anything. She just needed a squeeze.

"Hey you! Um. Yeah—" Yeah she needed to hurry up. Spectre wasn't going to give her all day to talk. For all she knew, she could be rushing at her right then. Silently. Somehow.

"When you're done with me can we be done! Please? Mmmaybe if I don't...run? Sp...Spectre?"

As her body's shaking got more violent, she forced her eyes open to look into the ring.

[Monsy]

Yuri fell and Spectre caught her landing with one hand down and the toes of her opposite boot, recovering by letting another spin run through as she three-sixty'd back to her footing. Now that another one was down, Spectre gave herself a moment to stew. Her arms fanned out in a downward V, arms spread, head-tipped up and eyes closed. The atmosphere cooed through her senses.

"H-hey Sp-sp...Sp-sp-sp..."

A Siren spoke to her. In its sweet, sweet stutter; a gift from her maker to have such a feeble pitch, delectable and begging for teeth to sink into it. She turned head, giving her the attention Sayori clearly wanted. She walked over, climbed up to the middle turnbuckle pad, put her second foot up-top, then used both arms to grab the top-rope and stalk them. "Well, I never expected someone to threaten to be such a killjoy. You wanna know somethin? Mm? I already chose you as my favourite. Sweet little Sayo, heart of the team with the gentlest of hands and softest of guts. I plan to make you the star of my show."

Her head tilted to the other side. "Here's a counter-offer. You can throw your friend there into the ring. Natsuki Matsumoto, right? Throw her in and I'll give you a three-second head-start."