L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

Match Type: Best of Five!
Falls gained by: Pinfall, Submission, DQ or Hentai Submission
Rules: Sexuality is permitted, but standard wrestling rules are in-effect.

A fucking… KITTEN.

Strangely enough, when she imagined the next challenges after the two supercard events, there would be a REAL MEAL on her hands. Not this… Cute, bottom-heavy, baby-faced, toned… Shit-. Catty, small-waisted, squishy-leg, soft-legged son of a... dirty cat-mom. They really lined her up with a slab of punch-meat with neko ears. He even came with a little bell. How the fuck was that fair? And where was that bucket list she wrote down? Maybe she should’ve gotten a collar and bell for Dot too. She can hear it already, ‘DING-DING, BOSS!’. Maybe it wasn’t the absolute worst. Just a side mission, yeah. Not hard. Unlike his stomach. Judging by the pictures and posted cosplay.

Zoom… Zoom… Enhance… ENHANCE

Skinny.

In other words: the boldest way to ask for someone to knee them on the street. It was practically begging to turn that smooth skin purple. Then to feel her fist sink into his belly until she got the highest, most cute-pitched meow a man could make. She wanted to grab his hair and pull it. To fucking bite him on the bone of his shoulder so he jumped and scattered. To yank that tail for the hell of it.

All the while, she asked herself: Why am I now into this?

She didn’t answer that. Just that she’s making a trip to a local shopkeeper for a cat-collar and leash.

Then, the rest is history.

“Let's just get this show goin. I’m getting impatient.”

And now, in the LAW arena with a hungry and jeering audience, thunder banged on the audio speakers. Dark purple lights became the norm, with anything else killed in a matter of seconds. When the thunder finished its audio, the bells of Spectre’s entrance sounded another episode of one of LAW’s most evil.

And it’s only to get worse from here…

Spectre’s logo took to the blank Titantron. Spires of tall purple flame shot from the stage’s lip, going at eight feet tall of pure scorching awesome. Mist from the ring corners now spilled purple onto the canvas, prompting the referee to leave the ring and cover their nose with their black and white shirt before memories of bullying likely crept in. She descended from above on a thin cable, coming down to the middle of the ring where she looked to hover. Several small spotlights flicked on in the misty dark, making every inch of the leotard-clad supervillain sparkling like lightning in the cosmos. Her cape fanned out as Spectre spread her arms, looking down, eyes closed and stoic until folding them behind her back...

And donning a grin.

Evil manifests!

“This is who you put in front of me?” Spectre lets one arm fall, and bunched in her hand unravelled a black collar with a golden buckle and a tiny bell. A leash attached to that, printed in sanrio textures up and down. “A fuckin' pet. For five rounds? Or rather, three, if we’re countin' the shutout.” The crowd jeered in response, louder than before, fuelling her over time like a regen effect. She took a deep breath from her chest, biding her moments, taking their time and thinking none of it while she looked at her own logo. “Well then.”

The arm still folded behind her back opened a latch on her attire, then she descended in free-fall into the ring, landing on both feet and crouching down until a fist punched the canvas, stabilizing. Then she rose up, her arm folded towards her shoulders to hold the collar and leash in a fist like squeezed spaghetti.

The lights, mist, fire and music tapered into quiet, but her voice still carried the weight around the sound systems.

“...Let's have some one-sided misery.”

Lynx was looking at the contract he signed impulsively, seeing a opportunity before anything. Maybe he should read these things before he signs? But what if he waits too long and the opportunity passes him by because he waited? So that means it is paramount he signs the first contract they hand them, and deal with the consequences.

"Best of...five!?" He'd say in utter surprise. He agreed to what was essentially five matches in one, against one woman! To make it worse, it seems the conditions of the match allowed for almost any means of victory such as pin, submission...or orgasm. Oh poor virgin Lynx. Hopefully she wasn't too mean, and totally understands what a fair, and even match is about, and especially that she respects that he was saving his virginity for a special someone!

Some time passed by, and Lynx was entering second. He watched Spectre's elaborate entrance and flashy movements! And oh no...oh no...a leash! Doesn't she know cats don't typically go on leashes!!!!

Lynx was essentially nudged out of the gorilla position by the staff, frozen in nervousness like a boy on his first date. This match felt just like that. Stumbling out into the arena, he locked eyes with the ring. The adorable rhythmic "Meow meow meow" of his entrance music played as he walked down the ramp, trying his best to stay composed. The cosplayer bit his lip while making his way to the ring, attempting to distract himself from pretty, yet scary woman in the ring holding a leash. He thought about his plan for the match...only to realize he never had one.

The catboy would nervously slip into the ring, opposite from Spectre. He shuffled nervously until a spotlight flashed onto him! As if on instinct, the boy hit his a pose!

Spoiler

"NYA!!" He let out, but not entirely sure of himself about what he was doing. He had practiced his best to be a showoff, but it always felt so exposing. Especially with his foe no doubt getting an entire eyeful of his ass!

While still maintaining the cute pose, the spotlight turned away, and Lynx stumbled forward to return to a normal stance. In his own struggles to stand like a human being, the boy essentially fell forward, flat on his face, right at the feet of Spectre. He'd look up at her with wide, innocent eyes, his yellow pupils starting at her feet, slowly trailing up her body, lingering on some rather curvy bits, until finally making eye contact with her.

"Uhhh...hi."

The way he emerged made her smile flinch. A littttttttttle feeling in her core resonated, turned warm, fuzzy and zapped her with energy. She felt her mouth water, her hands felt like they were growing claws and her teeth were sharp, jagged, poised to rip and tear. Her knuckles went tender. The index finger started to have a flicker, bend and then all five on a hand wiggled and wagged, then clenched into white stumps on her knuckles. She held her breath, kept it, then released it in a shutter.

Sweeeeet little kitten. Come and get your bruisinggg~

But wasn’t he cuter than Dot? Mmm—a question for her digital feline. His face had an adorableness that begged for a chomp, then she licked her lips imagining leaving a fat mark on his cheek. That stomach made her want to claw him. Squeeze, bite, chew. Is it sturdy? Or soft? Ooohh, she wished for a little bit in the middle. Sturdy enough to make her work, but soft so her fists could get in on the action.

Her wicked smile ear-to-ear didn't contain much. Her eyes locked on him, refusing to blink as her thoughts, ideas and yearns kept her so busy it was like a partial trance. The collar was spun idly throughout the entirety of Lynx's entrance. She stood centre of the ring, feet apart, waiting to get his cute behind into the ring. Leaning foot to foot in a bounce. Left, right, left, right. With the rhythm of a metronome.

When he got in, she stayed trained on him. The cat stretch was absolutely a bonus — a man this flexible... Talk about the total package. She cat-called right after. The crowd was awe'd with a squeeze in their knees that came with the urge to pet what was appearing on the big screens. A few looked like they were performing active restraint, then rocked in their seats as a collective "Awww..." Came from the stadium with forearms together, fists under their chin and a gleeful grin plastered on the masses.

Spectre found a deep, resounding urge to stomp his face when he was right there. But, she starved herself this time, choosing to crouch down with legs folded in opposite directions, leaving him right down the middle in front of her. “Just as I hoped for. A five-course meal all to myself.” She then reached out and tried to clutch a fistful of that hair. “Think you could win even ONE round with me, Lynx?” Then, if she had it, she’d roll her fist, tugging hair and attempting to wield the larger man to have his face point directly up, looking at her purple snake eyes with its purple and red, the shit-eating look with a touch of pink plastered over her cheeks.

The leash wrapped around her hand in an idle twirl, then the collar fixed between her thumb and index, now held against his soft cheek.

“Cause you won't. This is your future. Look at it.”

Lynx would be on the ground infront of Spectre, his elaborate and cute entrance completely failing as he stumbled and made a fool of himself. Spectre was pretty, but also a bit scary looking, so that threw him off his game a tiny bit. He had not been in the ring with someone like her before, and so he wasn't entirely sure how he'd handle her. Even during his entrance, he saw how she looked at him, like he was a piece of meat waiting to get tenderized, cooked rare, and served up on a platter before her. The catboy hated when girls did that to him...it happened a lot, metaphorically. At least the crowd loved his act, swooning over him with a collective delight. He was always popular with all genders, maybe it had something to do with his cute bottom.

Lynx's yellow eyes looked up at Spectre, who had squatted with her legs open. His eyes wandered a bit, before she mentioned exactly what he was worried about, being a meal for her. Five Course Meal? Oh no. His eyes had found their way to her covered womanhood due to the pose she held infront of him, and Spectre took advantage of his distraction, grabbing his black hair and twisting. Lynx's head was forced upwards as he she twisted, grimacing from the pain of having his hair pulled.

His foe was giving him a dirty look as Lynx's eyes met hers, a look of malice, devious intent, and vicious thoughts was plastered on her face to all to see. Like wielding a deadly weapon, the cool metal of the collar would be pressing into his supple, soft cheeks. Lynx was attempting to resist the urge to tremble as she threatened him. Five rounds was a long time, there was no reasonable way for him to escape if he simply couldn't handle her much longer.

An awful thought came into the catboy's mind, arguably a bit of a suicidal one, but it was certainly a thought. The wincing catboy would open his stupid mouth and purr out "Not if I collar you up first, nya~", before his red tongue would slide out, and he winked. Bold move for a boy who was at Spectre's feet, with her having a fistful of his hair.

Spectre blinked.

Her head had flinched, chin dipping down and eyes gone wide. Her lips went tight, throat and mouth felt warm and cheeks started to sizzle a bright red blush from ear-to-ear. "Y-You..." But she didn't follow-up past that, whining briefly under her breath. Her thoughts staggered and swam, tied itself in knots then a tremble hit her nape while she subconsciously touched her own neck, having pictured it. She growled at what she saw, silent at first, then her upper-lip twitched and she brandished teeth. No way, her thoughts mused. Suddenly she swung her hips and attempted to hit Lynx's face with it so he'd hit his back, letting him go at the same time. If that worked she'd place a foot on his stomach, casting a shadow over him.

"Think being bold will get you anywhere? That's just adorable." And in ways she couldn't even begin to contemplate or fully process. Half her ideas got replaced with mental imagery of him, his cheekbones, his mouth, the slick wink, the hair and smell was making her toes curl and stomach flutter. She stepped off him, squatting down so his hips became what she straddled. Her clothing provided a small amount of friction and the softness of her well-endowed buttocks. A toothy villainous grin greeted him as she schemed. "If we're going to play games, then lets have one fair and square. You get this on me, I'll give you a freebie. Just one free act I won't fight against, since that's the only circumstance you could, kitten."

The collar was dropped to his chest. One hand postured on his belly for support, the other held the end of the leash, offering it to him. The thicker lie she promised, the sincere tone she used, becoming smooth and buttery like a coo. "How about that?"

The catboy's boldness, maybe hoping to throw her off her game, was something that he would most likely come to regret. It seems to have affected her in some way, whether this would pay off or not was yet to be seen. She even went as far as miming the thought and actions of having a collar on her throat, a clear sign she was staggered by his boldness! Success?

Lynx never saw her wide hips coming, as the flesh of her exposed body would smash into his face, sending the boy slamming down to the mat. "Oumph!" He'd let out, blushing at the thought of getting battered by a hot woman's butt! Before he could even make an attempt to rise, her boot pressed down on his small, toned stomach, pinning him to the mat. From this angle, the woman looked 100 feet tall, and very very scary. Lynx could barely even manage eye contact as she threatened him.

The woman would position herself in a rather precarious spot, squatted down right over his hips. The catboy was praying his awakening cock wouldn't brush against her, out of pure fear of what she could do at that sensation. And then it happened...her lovely, soft, amazing cheeks would ever so gently hotdog his catboy cock, and Lynx let out a pathetic, soft, involuntary "Mrrrrr~" sound, as if he was purring. The boy's face became a bright shade of pink.

Reality came rushing back to him as she laid down the challenge, put the collar on her and he wins a prize, a free attack doing whatever he likes. The prospect of this was absolutely delightful, amazing even. "D-deal~" Lynx tried to pull himself together, acting tough, confident, and pretending he believed he even stood a modicum of a chance. "It'll be soooooooooo fun shaming you~" The fake confident catboy teases, sticking out a tongue.

He'd reach out for the leash, leaving the collar on his chest. If he got the leash, the catboy would give it a nice tug, either pulling the leash out of her hand...or dragging Spectre down ontop of him.

Yes she could feel a tented dick push and thread her back-end. The very tip and underneath could press against the protecting Lycra, then slide up till they both grazed each other. Sensation touched her in a momentary hitched note.

So a man can purr too…
Spectre now discovered. She went on with the passive thought in mind, bringing up a game with the leash and collar. That fitted his place, no? A pet liked to be collared and Lynx—down to his very name—was feline and pet-marked that even the touch of his groin was putting him into a trance.

Naturally drawing him into this little game felt like supplying a ball of yarn upon a string while Spectre held the stick. Of course, for her, everything was a free attack. What defence did he have? He looked squishy and more focused on his flicking ears to muster a threat. Did he even lift? Her eyes judged him with these questions by the small curve of her lip corners. Then he sprung!

“Strong-.” Spectre’s grip was firm, but she thus went straight into him. Moreso she sat down fully upon his hips, her back arching over while her belly pressed against his stomach, then mounds over his pecs just hovering in place. She can now feel his warmth. Feel his breath bat against her face. His smell went through her nostrils. For a moment, she too went pink. Her throat squeezed. “Shame me??”

NOTHING! Is what she’d try here.

This little fell onto her knees and…him… Gave a girl optimal access to his very soft throat just sitting there and waiting to be constricted. “Never in your nine-lives.” Challenged Spectre. She lunged down like a viper. One viewer might predict she was going to smash her lips into his, but instead she went to slip an arm underneath his nape, bring it to the other side, then grab her inner-elbow and fold in her second arm to press a fist against his neck. Her chest thus pressed against his chin as her bodyweight, heat and smooth figure now rubbed up against him in shifts, small grunts of effort and a soft coo of air against his earlobe. Finally, if all steps finish with a squeeze.

Ezekiel Choke!