by markydaysaid

The roar of the crowd. The blinding radiance of the lights. The frantic sparkling of the cameras. The smell of sweat. The tension in my muscles. The feeling of skin-tight lycra riding up my buttocks and hugging my pussy. The almost painful titillation of my stiff nipples straining against my sports-bra. The thrill of victory. The thrill of defeat as well. The satisfaction of slamming someone’s body against the mat, or being knocked down myself. The orgasmic climax of pinning my opponent to the count of five, or eliminating them with a brutal knockout.

I loved everything about it. I was born to be an extreme sex-fighter, just like Mom.

Today was qualifying match. The winner would move up in ranking from C-Rank to B-Rank, essentially moving them from semi-pro into fully professional. The loser would get knocked down to Mid-C, where they’d probably be stuck for the rest of the season. It was a big deal, but I wasn’t sweating it. I was winning, and the crowd was on my side.

My opponent was a cute boy. 19, maybe 20, a little younger than me. His wrestling name was “Sparrowhawk,” which was a play on his real name, Stan Hawk. He had a stylized sparrow emblem on the crotch of his thong-speedo, which was the only thing he wore besides his boots. He was a little shorter than me, petite for a boy, but in incredibly cut shape, with tight rectangular pectorals and six perfectly chiselled abs. He had an unblemished babyface without a hint of facial hair, large green eyes, and messy light-brown hair. He had the face of a boy-band pop-star, but the body of a professional athlete. A delicious combination. Too bad his crotch wasn’t packing much, otherwise he’d be exactly my type, but as much as I liked cute boys, cock-size was the absolute most essential quality. I’d take a toad with a huge dick over a cherub with a nub any day. I was a size-queen. Mom said I got that from her.

Sparrowhawk looked worried, scared even. That frightened look on his cute face really got me wet. Not only was I taller than him, but my massively rotund breasts were about as broad as his shoulders, and I had as much muscle in my pronounced buttocks as he did in his entire body. I had plenty more power packed into my legs and core, but the real source of my strength was my herculean ass. It was the focus of my training, the secret of the technique my mother developed. “Putting my ass into it” wasn’t just an expression, it was my entire philosophy.

Poor little Sparrowhawk was outmatched, but he was taking his inevitable loss with grace. I respected that. He was excited as well. His male-thong was so tight that it outlined his erection. Five inches, marginally thick. I was flattered. I loved it when the boys I beat up got big juicy boners. There was really no greater praise from an opponent than that.

I didn’t blame the kid. I’m real hot piece of ass. Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, angelic face, puffy lips, huge watermelon tits, toned stomach, narrow waist, profuse buttocks, thick thighs, strong legs, and an attitude to match. I was an 11 out of 10, a nuclear-bomb of teenage spunky sexuality. Even though I was just 20 years old I had a body like Jessica Rabbit on steroids, and my curves still weren’t as insane as my mother’s.

My wrestling costume didn’t leave much to the imaginations either. I wore a pink one-piece, but it was about as skimpy as a one piece could be. A narrow stretch of lycra was the only thing covering my plump vagina, and it disappeared into the deep crevice of my ass like a g-string. Two windows were cut out of it, one bearing my midsection to display my six-pack abs, and another over my breasts just to accentuate them further. It was pink. My favorite color. I wore a pair of knee-high boots, and a mask, though the mask was just a skimpy piece of flare. It’s not as if anyone didn’t know who I was. I kept my long blonde hair tied up in long twin-tails. It was a risky style choice. Hair pulling was permitted in the ESFL, but anyone cocky enough to pull my hair got a knee to the groin. “Pull my hair and I WILL pop one of your testicles,” I had warned Sparrowhawk a little earlier, and I had meant it. I’m woman of my word.

I am Bunny Bunker, daughter of Barbara Bunker. The second extreme sex-fighter to bare the name “Bunker Buster,” and I intend to be the youngest world champion in the history of the ESFL.

I rose from E to C rank undefeated, and I intended to get from C to B the same way. The only obstacle I had left was poor little Sparrowhawk, shaking before me in his little baby-boy boots like a pillow-biting bitch.

Sparrowhawk finally came at me. He was desperate to get a hit in. He charged with his arm out, hoping to clothesline me in the neck. Dumb. You should never telegraph a power-move like that. He should have tried to bounce me off the ropes first so I’d be distracted.

I caught his arm and twisted. I spun around, using my huge butt to center my gravity. I threw him into the ropes so hard that when he bounced off it he literally flew back at me. I slammed my big round breasts into his face. My chest-pillows hit him with the force of boxing-gloves. He landed on his back so hard that they whole mat shook with the impact. The crowd cheered. I giggled, winked, and blew a kiss to the closest camera. Cheesing it up was part of the show, and I loved putting on a show. If I was going to be successful in B-Rank I’d need corporate sponsors, and the sponsors loved a showman.

Sparrowhawk tried to recover by grabbing my legs. Pathetic. I kicked his thighs apart and then stomped on his crotch. My foot flattened his dick against his hip, and my heel dug into his little purse. Sparrowhawk whimpered painfully. The crowed cheered again, especially the women. The ESFL attracted a certain kind of female audience, the kind that got wet watching boys being humiliated.

Sparrowhawk clutched his balls and leaned up. I grabbed the back of his head and kneed him in the face. He fell back, nearly unconcious. I could have knocked him out and won the match right there if I had wanted, but that would have been anticlimactic. I wanted to graduate from C-Rank with some style.

I grabbed Sparrowhawk by his feet and dragged him to the center of the mat. I left him there, dazed and unmoving. I ran to the turnbuckle and climbed it like a stripper climbing a pole. I made sure to thrust my ass out, giving the cameras a generous view of my big juicy hams, and I leaned forward to expose as much of my cleavage as possible. I wanted this picture to be on the front page of every wrestling and sports website for the rest of the week. I wanted the ESFL to make a poster of this moment, the kind that boys the world over would frantically masterbate to. I wanted this moment to be iconic.

I performed my signature move, the one mom and I spent years perfecting.


I jumped off the turnbuckle and backflipped. I held my legs and thrust my buttocks outward. The g-string of my costume dug into my anus and pussy. Air rushed by me like a torrent. I built up as much momentum as physically possible, and when I landed on Sparrowhawk my butt impacted his stomach with the force of the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs. The crash sent tremors through the mat, and filled the entire stadium with a loud echoing thunderclap.

Sparrowhawk’s mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn’t even exhale. I has basically flattened him with my massive ass. His big pretty green eyes sparkled with inconceivable pain, and then went dull. His pupils rolled up into his skull until just the whites showed, and then he fell back, unconscious and defeated.

There was no five-count for Sparrowhawk. This was a victory by knockout.

The referee came over and grabbed my wrist, thrusting it skyward to declare my victory. The crowd exploded with adulation at the exact same time my pussy gushed with cum. I was orgasming. Hot cum rolled down my legs and dripped of my thighs, most of it splashing down on Sparrowhawk’s unconscious face. I screamed. This feeling was better than sex.

I turned and kissed the referee. She was pretty cute, though not my normal type. She had neon-blue hair and thickly applied mascara. An emo-goth-scene kind of girl. She had a great set of perky tits though, and her nipples showed through the thin material of her balck-n-white striped halter-top. Other than that the only thing she had on was a black g-string and a whistle.

She tried to push me away. Wrestlers weren’t supposed to fraternize with the referees. I didn’t let her get away though. I grabbed her tight little ass and squeezed it so hard that there were going to be bruises in the shape of my palms. She moaned and wiggled. I pinned her against a turnbuckle and began humping her, slamming my wet pussy into hers. She was aroused already. It was hard not to watch an ESFL match and not get aroused.

The crowd laughed and cheered me on as I forced myself upon the blue-haired bitch. I tore at her thin halter-top until her nipples were exposed. One of them was pierced. Cute, but not my thing. I tweaked it as I humped her. That was obviously one of her triggers, because she came suddenly and violently, and began humping me back. She broke our kiss and screamed.


I backed off at the peak of her orgasm and left her hanging from the turnbuckle, her arms and legs tangled in the ropes. Her g-string was so soaked that it was dripping, and a sheen of sweat broke out over her whole body. She started crying, probably from the mixture of frustration and joy. Black rivers of mascara ran down her cheeks. A moment later she went limp. I giggled. I had actually knocked her out with an orgasm. She slowly slumped forward and fell on her face, her body gentle spasming from an orgasmic afterquake.

“BUNKER! BUNKER! BUNKER!” the crowed chanted. My heart fluttered with pure joy. I was in heaven.

“Congrats, hunny-butt,” my mother said to me as she climbed into the ring. As my coach she could do that. She looked amazing. Tall, blonde, amazonian, with even bigger tits and a bigger ass than me, and almost all of her curvacious body was pure female muscle, not that it showed on her divinely youthful face. Mommy dressed to impress, wearing a form-fitting white suit comprised of a breast-hugging blazer and mini pencil-skirt. The heels she wore were tall and sharp, like stilettos. The crowd cheered for her as well. She was Barbara Bunker, former world champion for three years running from 2097 to 2100. The original “Bunker Buster.”

I wanted to hug and kiss her, but my body was dripping with sweat and cum. She’d kill me if I messed up her clothes. Luckily I had something to distract me.

“I figured you’d want the extra-large one,” my mother said. “I know he’s a little petite, but I bet this boy has some experience taking things up his butt. I pegged him for a faggot the moment I saw him.”

I giggled. “Yeah. I get a bit of a butt-slut vibe from him too, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Mom handed me a big strap-on dildo made of neon-pink jelly-plastic and a big bottle of lubricant. The dildo was a really hefty motherfucker. Ten inches long and as thick as my wrist. The crowd loved seeing the big ones, even if they were impractical.

I strapped the dildo on and began pouring lubricant onto it with big, thick, sloppy dollops. So much that it poured off the shaft and onto the mat. I worked the dildo like I was masterbating an actual penis, and the crowd really responded. I wasn’t faking my arousal either. I was still horny as hell and desperate to cum again. As I jerked the big pink dick, I pulled at the sides of my uniform, eventually freeing my heaving tits, and giving my stiff pink nipples some fresh air. The crowd screamed. Someone fainted. More than a hundred men in the crowd were nutting themselves, along with untold thousands watching on the internet. Tonight was going to make me a global celebrity . . . At least I hoped.

I squatted over Sparrowhawk’s head and began slapping him in the face with my pink dildo. Lube smeared over his cheeks and lips, making him all messy.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s time to get fucked.”

Sparrowhawk woke up with a terrified expression. “No! WAIT!”

I giggled as I pushed the dildo into his mouth and gagged him. “Suck my fat pink dick, you little bitch.”

Sparrowhawk was not a good cock-sucker, although to be fair, even a talented cocksucker would have some trouble swallowing my thick dildo. Sparrowhawk basically just choked and struggled for air, floundering like a fish out of water as I cock-knocked the back of his throat. Before he could pass out or vomit, I pulled out and cock-slapped him across the face again, this time hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Get your skinny ass up, faggot! I’m gonna have some fun with that butthole of yours,” I snickered as I grabbed his hair and yanked him to his feet.

The poor baby could barely stand on his own. I spun him around and ran him face-first into the turnbuckle. I tore his thong off with one yank, and he screamed as the elastic material snapped over his anus like a rubberband.

I picked his legs up and put them through the ropes, leaving his cute little butt at my mercy. I pushed my tits against his back and aimed the slippery dildo up against his anus. His backdoor was tiny and tight. He may have even been an anal-virgin, dispelling my mother’s theory that he was a butt-bitch.

“Wait! Please!” he whimpered like a little boy being bullied by a mean girl. “You don’t have to do this!”

“You’re right, I don’t . . .” the privilege of humiliation was at the victor’s discretion. In the ESFL, the victor of any match ‘owned’ the loser afterwards, and could do to them almost anything aside from mutilation or murder. “. . . but I want to.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pushed him down. I thrust upward with my hips, driving the thick dildo up his anus and all the way into his brain (it seemed). I fucked the little boy with all the angry force of an elephant fucking pig. Each of my thrusts was powerful enough to shatter his hipbone if I had wanted to. Sparrowhawk squealed and gurgled as I flattened his prostate, and no doubt he felt unimaginable humiliation as I railed him in front of a stadium of ten thousand people, and several million watching from home. A small audience by ESFL standards, but this was a D-Rank match. A-Rank matches had viewerships numbering in the tens of millions. I was going to get there one day soon. Sparrowhawk wasn’t.

“Have fun in C-Rank, kid,” I whispered into his ear, and licked his earlobe. I reached around his waist and grabbed his substandard cock. It was smaller than I had expected, though it fit into the palm of my hand comfortably, like a thick eggroll. I jerked his short dick as I rammed the foot-long dildo in and out of his anus. He began to ejaculate. Thick spurts of boy-glue hit the turnbuckle and splashed over my hand. Sparrowhawk had little balls, but he cum quite a bit, but that was probably because I flattening his prostate.

His wiggled uselessly, whimpered one last time, then went limp, his head rolling to the side. He was out cold. Anal knockout. I was on fire today.

I pulled my dildo out of his anus so quickly that it made an audible “POP!” and left his rectum gaping and distended. Without my tits holding him up he began to slump backwards, slowly falling to the mat just like the referee in the other corner.

I was now a member of B-Rank in the Extreme Sex-Fighting League, the largest athletic organization in the world, even bigger than FIFA or the Olympics, both of which the ESFL surpassed in the 2080s.

I felt like a goddess, and I literally jumped for joy. The audience seemed to enjoy watching my big tits bouncing as i skipped around the mat. Even mom looked proud.


I stripped my suit off as I walked to the lockers. Not the crummy C-Rank lockers, but the state-of-the-art B-Rank lockers. Graduation was immediate. The validation was glorious. I handed my sweat and cum soaked uniform to my little brother, Bucky. Mom forced him to be my equipment manager since he wasn’t nearly as good as a fighter as I was, and would probably spend his whole life in E-Rank or D-Rank. He only became a sex-fighter because he was a rabid little horndog who wanted to fuck the shit out of anything he could get his hands on. A violent fuck-fest like the ESFL was a perfect place for a sociopathic little rapist like him. He could beat up and fuck the shit out of little girls all day, and people would applaud him for it. He was not a natural athlete though, not like mom and me. We were gods, he was a clod.

“Don’t sniff the crotch, perv,” I joked. “You’re eighteen now. It’s inappropriate for a boy your age to perv on his big sister.”

“Whatever,” Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes, though I could see the little chubby twitching in his pants.

Bucky was a cute boy. Blonde, blue-eyed, and a little freckly. He was strong, thanks to mom’s genes, but he was cursed with a penis that was . . . Well . . . Average. Average wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either. No one got excited for average in the ESFL. People wanted to see big studs with huge fat cocks. Anything less than ten inches was a disappointment. Bucky had the family’s insatiable libido though. Bucky fucked anything he could get his hands on. Anything. Animal, vegetable, or inanimate. He fucked it furiously. I think he lost his virginity to our couch, and mom had to pick him up from school more than once when he got his dick stuck in something. He was the reason I could never have a pet. Anytime mom bought a watermelon he’d end up cutting a tiny hole in it to shove his tiny dick in. Bucky was a fucking sex-fiend.

Bucky had tried to force himself on me a hundred times by now, but I never let him. The last time he crawled into my bed and tried to fuck me in my sleep, I kicked his ass, rammed a dildo up his butt, put a leash on him, and pulled him around the yard like I was walking a dog. I think he had learned his lesson, for awhile at least. The most I would do for him was a simple handjob, and that was just because he was slightly easier to deal with post-orgasm, after the poison was drained a bit.

Before I entered the lockers Mom spanked my bare ass to get my attention.

“I’m getting a news crew over here for an interview. You’re going to give them a small statement, but go get showered up first. I want you looking fresh and sexy.”

“Yes, Mommy,” I agreed, though what I really wanted was a long hot shower and a few hours to relax and masterbate. Mom was right though. Publicity mattered. Extreme Sex-Fighting wasn’t just a sport, it was an entertainment industry.


My first shower in the B-Rank locker-room felt like a baptism. It was so much more equipped and modern than the C-Rank locker-room that I knew I could never go back. The C-Rank amenities were more basic than what my high-school lockers had, really just lockers, benches, and dirty toilets, not to mention how overcrowded it had been. In B-Rank, not only did I get my own locker tall, but I also got my own toilet stall, and access to special privileges in ESFL owned gyms and facilities. I was also finally eligible for endorsements, which was where the real money was, though I wouldn’t be making the big bucks until I made it to A-Rank.

The ESFL was not shy about how strictly it enforced a culture of hierarchy and classism. A-Rank fighters were treated like gods. B-Rank were demigods and heroes. C-Rank were semi-professionals with dedicated fan bases. D-Rank were amateurs with promise. E-Rank initiates were treated like shit. Non-league wrestlers—euphemistically referred to as ‘F-Rank,’ or ‘Franks’—were less than shit. Bucky was lucky to have made it into E-Rank, and if he ever bothered to actually practice instead of just masterbate all day, he might one day make it to D-Rank.

The B-Rank lockers were coed, and the showers were communal, which I prefered. I hated being alone. I loved being surrounded by other people, especially if those people were other athletes, sexy young titans with godlike bodies and the libidoes of champions. I didn’t mind showering naked in front of a dozen other people, especially since they were all naked too. A voluptuous body like mine needed to be flaunted. Covering it up would be a crime.

I cranked the hot water to a scalding temperature and let the steam envelop me. I could take it. I loved the heat. I looked around the showers and was awed by what I saw. Over a dozen other fighters were with me, all of them naked and glistening, each of them at the peak of physical perfection, though none of them had the tits and ass I did.

Of the fourteen or so people showering with my, my blue-eyes were immediately drawn to an attractive Black man with a dick the size of my forearm. He was getting his anus eaten out by a kneeling Asian babe with a dragon tattoo spiralling down her sensually curved back. She was really getting into it, shoving her tongue as deep as it would go, and she was yanking on his big walnut-sized testicles like she owned them.

There was an attractive young man with brown hair and tanned skin who was enthusiastically jerking his nine-inch cock while he watched two identical blonde sisters kissing each other for his entertainment. They were on the floor, their legs intertwined, thrusting their identical pussies into each other with urgent lust. They weren’t faking it. These two sisters were really into each other. When the handsome stud ejaculated, he stepped forward and sprayed them both with his seed, which they gobbled up like hungry baby birds.

Two more B-Rank fighters caught my eye, both female. One was a tall amazonian woman with bleached blonde hair and a thick Texan accent. She was taller and more muscular than I was, but her tits weren’t as big as mine. She was leaning against a bench with her legs spread wide open as a very petite and shy looking Japanese girl ate her juicy pink pussy. These two women were as different as two people could be in terms of physicality and personality, but they were obviously lovers regardless.

The last of the fighters worth noticing was a young Black woman whose tits were actually as large as mine, though her ass was just a bit smaller. She had a towel wrapped around her hair to keep it from getting wet, and was bathing with a sponge rather than the showers. The sudsy bubbles looked amazing sliding against her large breasts, and thick black niples. Her skin was dark brown and warm, like milk chocolate, making her a shade or two lighter than the large Black man I was so attracted to. I think the Black woman was attracted to him as well. She was looking on rather jealously as the Asian woman with the dragon tattoo gave the Black man a rim-job.

I recognized all of them. The hung Black stud was Sampson Irons, called “Black Iron.” He was one of the most endurant fighters in B-Rank. His matches tended to last hours, and he won by exhausting his opponent into utter submission. The Asian licking his anus was Natalie Nakamura, “Dragon-Snake,” one of the B-Ranks most controversial fighters. Injuries were a common occupational hazard of sex-fighting, but Dragon-Snake seemed to take particular pleasure in sadistically crippling her opponents. The cocky White boy jerking off was the Australian regional C-Rank champion, Daniel MacLeod, “Thundercloud.” He was a fan favorite, but I didn’t think he was so cool. The incestrous twins he was ejaculating on were Elsa and Anna Karlsen, “The Valkyries.” They specialized in tag-team matches, since they refused to fight without each other. Their synergy and teamwork were amazing. There was a rumor that they shared a psychic link, which might have been true. Psychics, mutants, and cyborgs could all compete in the ESFL even since anti-discrimination legislation was passed in 2069.

The Texan getting her pussy eaten by the little Japanese babe was Brandi Wine, “The Cowgirl,” the only child of the billionaire landowner Burgundy Wine. She had a real down-to-earth vibe despite being the heir to one of the largest fortunes in the world, and from everything I had heard about her, she was actually a good person and not at all a spoiled brat. The Japanese half-pint licking Brandi’s clit was Sayaka Takashiro, “The Ninja.” Despite being one of the highest ranking featherweights in B-Rank, I still didn’t know much about Sayaka. No one did, other than the fact that she and Brandi were lovers.

The Black woman with the thick black nipples was my favorite. Sheandra Babatunde. Called “The Cheetah,” and “The African Amazon.” Despite her huge tits and rounded curves, Sheandra won most of her matches thanks to her sheer speed. She could move faster than some eyes could follow, allowing her to knock out stronger opponents with a well-timed strike or suplex. She had one been tag-team partners with Sampson “Black Iron” Irons, but for some reason they split up and he teamed up with Natalie Nakamura. I think I could see why. Natalie has a tongue as longer and slithery as a snake. He rimjobs were probably amazing.

These were my new peers, and my new rivals. To get out of C-Rank and into B-Rank, chances were I would need to defeat at least half the people in this room, plus a dozen other fighters from other B-Rank regions.

I couldn’t take my blue-eyes off of Sampson Irons. He was huge. Titanic even. The top of my head only came up to his collarbone, and his shoulders were twice a broad as mine. He was all muscle too. His pectorals and abs literally did look like iron plates coated in dark chocolate, hence the name “Black Iron.” My blue-eyes trailed down his perfect body to his tremendous low-hanging cock. The shaft was a thick as a soda-can, and the length of it was easily more than a foot. Thick pulsating veins crawled over the mile-long cylinder, reaching all the way to the bulbous purple apple-nut that was easily the size of a plum. His testicles were likewise huge, each the size of a large walnut, and more than a handful for Natalie as she played with them while tongueing his anus.

Dragon-Snake was my physical antithesis. She was slender and built like a rail, with zero body-fat and a perky set of firm tits that stuck out of her chest like frigid cones. I was round, she was sharp. She was still insanely hot, even if skinny wasn’t my type. There was something lethal about her beauty, like an exotic sword, or a graceful viper. The serpentine dragon she had tattooed on her back was outlined in thick black contours, but some of the scales were filled in with gold. One for each of her victories in the ESFL.

I watched her switch positions, slithering between Black Iron’s legs so she could lick his balls and begin sucking on his monstrously large cock. I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I was leering. I turned my whole body to watch, and I began stroking my pussy in rhythm with her sucking.

Black Iron finally noticed me. Of course he did. I was twice as thick as any woman in the showers, with only Cheetah to compete. Black men loved my big white tits and juicy white ass as much as I loved their big black cocks. We were built for each other. I dumped my first boyfriend (who was White) when I found out his best friend (who was Black) had a cock that was twice as big as his. No regrets. That sex had been amazing. I wasn’t about race for me though. I was perfectly willing to “go Black and go back,” so long as the White guy I was going back to had at least ten inches of thick dick to fuck me with. Size mattered. It really, really mattered.

“Hey,” I casually greeted Iron, pretending as if he wasn’t getting a blowjob from a frantically horny Asian slut.

“Hey,” he responded with a thick baritone voice that reverberated in my chest. God! What a sexy voice! I bet I could cum just from the sound of him speaking. “I watched your match. You definitely deserve to be in B-Rank. That little White boy barely even touched you. And what you did to him after that match! Shit. You fuck little White assholes as hard as I do.”

“Thanks, stud,” I cooed. “I had fun breaking him, but the League made a mistake paring me against C-Rank trash like that for my graduating match. I deserve better than baby-dicked boys like him. His penis was pathetic.”

“Oh yeah?” Black Iron asked with a smirk.


“So what do you deserve?”

I bit my lip and slowly sauntered over, my voluptuous body dripping with scalding hot water. I got so close that my hip pressed against the back of Dragon-Snake’s bobbing head. I put my hand on Black Iron’s chest and leaned into him, just grazing him with my nipples.

“I deserve an opponent like you, stud,” I cooed up at him with my sexiest husky voice. “I deserve your big . . . thick . . . hard . . . black . . . cock!”

Dragon-Snake stood up and pushed me away. She looked pissed, but the anger looked hot on her. She had a very narrow exotic face, with high cheekbones and slanted eyes, even more slanted than most Asians. She actually kind of looked like a snake.

“Bitch! You need to back off!” Dragon-Snake hissed. “Don’t think that graduating to B-Rank undefeated makes you hot shit, because you’re not. It just means you’ve been undermatched until now. That luck stops here, bitch. No one in B-Rank gives a shit if your mom was World Champion once. 2100 was a long time ago, and no one cares if there’s a new Bunker Buster. The only way to make an impact is B-Rank is to fight in a tag-team, and the tag-team you’re looking at right here is going to be the strongest in the League. Dragon Snake and Black Iron are the names everyone is going to be talking about. Bunker Buster is old news.”

I smirked at her. “How long have you been in B-Rank, Dragon Snake?”

“Two years,” she answered.

I smirked even harder. “Two years? And you still haven’t graduated? That’s a bad sign. The average graduation rate for most A-Rank fighters is fourteen months. My mom only spent six months in B-Rank before graduating to A-Rank. I don’t plan on sticking around for much longer than that either. Certainly not two fucking years. You want to know what I think? I think you’re trying to piggyback on Black Iron’s success. I think you’re going to use him to get your win percentage up by only fighting in tag-team matches, that way you can graduate to A-Rank by flubbing the stats. You and I should got mono-y-mono sometime. Let’s see who the better fighter is. That way real athletes like me can graduate to A-Rank, and losers like you can fade away.”

Dragon Snake snickered. “Fat bitch. You’re never going to leave B-Rank. I’m not going to let you.”

I knew what Dragon-Snake was insinuating. She was a rather controversial fighter. The ESFL had more ‘guidelines’ than actual rules, and although most fighters knew where the limits were, there was nothing anyone could do to actually get disqualified short of straight-up murder. Dragon-Snake did anything she could to win. Eye-gouging, biting, nail-slashing, even sneaking weapons into the ring. Once the fight started, all bets were off. More than a few of her opponents left the ring in a stretcher.

I just smirked at her, and then bumped my tits into her chest, knocking her to her ass. She squeaked in surprise as her skinny butt bounced off the floor. She snarled up at me like a cat.

I turned to Black Iron again. “When you’re done playing with this skinny bitch, hit me up. I’ve got a feeling that you and I would make one badass tag-team . . . And I don’t just mean on the mat.”

I had to get on my tippy-toes and pull his head down to kiss him, he was so tall. Our kiss was really just a quick peck, but it was electric. I grazed my breasts over his stomach as I turned to leave and gave his big cock a quick squeeze. I liked to leave on a high-note, and I didn’t want to give Dragon-Snake a chance to get back up.

Before I left though, I noticed Cheetah staring daggers at me. I forgot that Black Iron use to be her partner, and here I was, hitting on him on my first day. I sighed. Too bad. I had hoped we could have been friends, but badass bitches rarely got along.


Mom was waiting for me in the locker-room with a small news crew. I recognized the reporter. Kendra Kwon, an attractive full-bodied Asian woman with a killer smile and a classic stereotypical reporter voice. She had a single cameraman with her as she interview my mother about my match. As my coach and agent, mom basically handled my press. It helped that she was a celebrity in the ESFL herself, and knew from experience how to butter up reporters.

As Kendra asked mom about my training, mom discreetly put her hand on Kendra’s ass. Mom squeezed it a little. They were flirting. Kendra was probably genuinely attracted to my mom (I’m sure that Kendra was a lesbian), but mom was just being political. She had always told me that sex was a weapon, and it should be used. Some people might accuse her for being a slut because she used sex to get ahead, but the fact that she got ahead was all that mattered, and I respected her for that. She was a slut, but she got what she wanted, and she was never submissive about it. Mom always ended up on top.

“Here she is, you can ask her yourself,” Mom said when she saw me come out of the showers. “Honey-butt, come here and give this sexy sports reporter and quick interview.”

“You go it, mom! Hey Ms. Kwon! Nice to meet you!”

It didn’t matter that I was still buck naked, dripping wet, and obviously aroused. I went right before the camera and puffed up my chest, making sure that everyone watching at home got a good look at my stiff pink nipples. Kendra Kwon smiled and blushed a bit, her eyes fluttering over my naked body. I think she had the hots for me even more than for mom.

“Please, call me Kendra,” the sexy reported huffed as she gaped down at my breasts. She was almost drooling. She zoned out for a few seconds as she fantasized about doing something to me.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Kendra?” I asked in a flirty babyish voice, slowly waving my firm breasts in front of her. Her pretty black eyes followed my nipples like they were hypnotizing.

“Um . . . YES!” Kendra shook her head and came back to reality. “First, congratulations on graduating to B-Rank, and for continuing your almost unprecedented winning streak this last year. You rose out of E-Rank undefeated, and with tonight’s victory you’ve graduated from B-Rank faster than any other fighter in years. Do you think you’re going to have the same success in B-Rank?”

“Absolutely, Kenda. I fully intend to be an A-Rank fighter by the time I’m 21, which was the age my mother—the first Bunker Buster—was when she graduated. I know that the fighters in B-Rank are going to be a bit tougher than the pathetic chumps I’ve been curb-stomping up till now, but I’m not worried. I think I’ll be graduating to A-Rank before the end of the summer.”

“Such confidence! I admire that,” Kendra said, though I think the only thing she admired about me was my body. “Is there anyone in particular you’d like to go up against in B-Rank?”

“Yeah,” I snickered. “Natalie Nakamura. The one they call ‘Dragon-Snake.’ That skinny-ass bitch has been coasting in B-Rank for two years without graduating. Someone needs to knock that bitch out of the League. Permanently. I bet she wouldn’t have even made it into B-Rank if she hadn’t been tag-teaming with Black Iron. Speaking of which, I wouldn’t mind going toe-to-toe with that big chocolate stud. His big black cock versus my massive milky tits. That would be a battle for the ages.”

Kendra was smiling so hard it looked painful. This kind of shit-talk and rivalry always got good ratings. “Well I know that I for one would LOVE to see that fight. But how about your match with Sparrowhawk this evening? Are you disappointed that he didn’t pose more of a challenge. It was obvious to everyone watching that you dominated the match from the beginning, and—”

“YOU BITCH!” some girl screamed from behind me.

I turned around to see the referee from my match with Sparrowhawk, the goth-emo one with the blue hair. She hadn’t changed much since I left her unconscious and orgasming in the ring. She hadn’t gotten any clothes back on, and was still in just her black g-string. She was still wet and sticky with my sweat and her own cum, though. That, plus the runny mascara on her face made her look like a complete mess.

“You fucking WHORE!” she screamed at me. “You just got me fired!”

“What?” I asked. I really had no idea what was going on.

“You just got me fired! After you fucked me in the ring, Chairwoman Fear herself called me and told me that I’ve been terminated for ‘inappropriately fraternizing’ with a fighter. I tried to tell her that you forced yourself upon me, but she wouldn’t hear it. Apparently I’m expendable, but you’re not. You’re a fucking legacy! No one gives a shit about a ref, so long as the popular fighters keep getting views.”

“I’m . . .I’m really sorry,” I said, still a bit confused. Chairwoman Fear herself called to fire the ref I fucked? Really? That was kind of a big deal. Chairwoman Lucille Fear was the CEO of the entire ESFL franchise. She was the wealthiest woman in the world, and also a former champion sex-fighter herself. She and mom had been rivals back in the day.

“Bullshit!” the blue-haired ref spat. “You don’t give a shit about me! You don’t give a shit about anyone. You’re just another selfish primadonna sex-fighter who will use anyone as a stepping stone to get ahead.”

“That’s not true!” I angrily defended myself. “I’m sorry that were fired, I am, but that was Chairwoman Fear’s decision, not mine, and I’m willing to submit a letter to her explaining that you and I have no relationship. I just fucked you because I was horny and excited. I’ve fucked ref’s before. Lots of fighters have.”

“Most matches don’t have a hundred million viewers!” the ref said. “Chairwoman Fear had to fire me because of how much coverage your fight got.”

“A hundred million people watched the fight tonight?” both mom and I gasped. “Those are A-Rank numbers? Really?”

“FUCK YOU!” the ref spat. “That’s all you care about! Fucking people over and getting famous for it. You don’t even know my name, do you?”

I shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t.”

“Well it’s Roxanne! Roxanne Rollins! I was a ESFL fighter once! Almost got to B-Rank before I broke my collar bone. They called me “Rockenroll.” Well, my collarbone healed over a year ago, and I’m ready to get back into the ring, starting with you!”

Rockenroll stepped forward and punched at my face. Her first sailed towards my chin with enough speed to knock me out cold. I barely managed to dodge it. Barely. Rockenroll’s first zipped by so fast that it actually cut the air, leaving behind a pocket of zero resistance that something else could move through at increased speed. That ended up being her elbow. Rockenroll’s hit me in the stomach with her elbow so hard that I was lifted off the ground and sent flying into the lockers. I hit them so hard that my big ass left a dent.

I clutched my stomach and wheezed. It hurt, but pain wasn’t enough to knock me out.

“Pathetic!” Rockenroll sneered. “Have you never seen a ‘slipstream’ technique before? I use my first attack to cut through the air, reducing drag, so my next attack can move at twice the speed. You have no business being a B-Rank fighter if you can’t counter something like that.”

“Come at me, bitch,” I challenged her. “Let’s see if your slipstream technique can counter my pendulum-butt style!

Rockenroll attacked me with punches and kicks, some of which showed that she had karate training. I was able to block some, but only some. Her slipstream attacks moved too quickly for me to follow, so they got in. She struck my stomach, my face, my neck, my thighs, and got one particularly painful kick right into my pussy. I tried tackling her so I could use my weight advantage against her, but the lockers were not a real ring. She was able to jump around the bench and use it as a shield.

“Make sure you get all of this,” Kendra Kwon said to her cameraman. “Imagine how many views we’ll get if Bunker Buster loses to a referee!”

Oh shit! This locker-room brawl was being broadcast to the entire world. If I did lose to Rockenroll, I’d be humiliated. This wasn’t a sanctioned match so it wouldn’t really affect my ranking, but no one would ever respect a professional sex-fighter who got her ass beat by an angry referee.

“C’mon Bunny!” mom yelled at me. “Stop letting her use you like a punching bag! Hit her back!”

I tried. I punched at Rockenroll’s face, but there was already an active slipstream between us, and she was able to use the zero-resistance to dodge my attack. She retaliated with a spinning kick that hit me in the face so hard that I ragdolled.


My voluptuous body landed across a bench, and I was left arched over it like a discarded towel. My big breasts fell over my face, and I tried to lean up, but couldn’t. The pain was stunning me.

Rockenroll stomped on my unprotected pussy. Her heel landed right on my clit, and the pain sparked a sudden orgasm. I was a bit of a masochist, and getting beaten up was kind of a turn on. That aspect of my sexuality was working in Rockenroll’s favor. I tried to fight back, but every time I got up Rochenroll would knee me in the face.

When I was finally too tired to fight back, I went limp, and Rockenroll bent over to twist my nipples in her hands.

“Fucking cow,” she sneered. “Fucking fat whore, with your big butter-bucket breasts. I hate buxom blonde bimbos like you, you retarded slut! I hate fat tis like these!”

She twisted my nipples a full 180 degrees. I screamed in pain and pleasure. She hadn’t beaten me yet though. I had one last idea.

With my last vestige of strength, I leaned up as fast as I could, and even though it hurt, I slammed my big tits into Rockenroll’s face. The hit her like sandbags, and she went reeling back, dazed.

This was my chance.


I got up and spun around in place, using my big ass to cut through the air, creating a slipstream all around my body, reducing any liquid-friction that would slow me down. Then— with my last bit of strength—I jumped at Rockenroll, thrusting my ass out first. I flew like a cannon-ball, and when I hit her it was with the speed of a runaway locomotive. I knocked her into the lockers, and my big ass flattered her against them. The lockers dented from the impact, and the air was knocked out of Rockenroll’s lungs so fast that all she could do was wheeze instead of scream. I kept her pinned against the wall for a second, which was all it took for her to go limp, and when she did I withdrew my big butt, and I let her collapse to the floor.

“I change my mind,” I said to the nearly unconscious Rockenroll. “I’m NOT sorry that you got fired. Pathetic weaklings like you don’t belong in the ESWL in any capacity. There’s only one place where shit like you belongs. Let me take you there.”

I grabbed Rockenroll by her blue hair and dragged her to the toilets. Kendra Kwon followed me with her cameraman, making sure every moment was captured for her feed.

I dragged Rockenroll to one of the toilet stalls and kicked it open. The toilet was freshly cleaned and immaculate, but that wasn’t going to lessen the humiliation of what I was about to do.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Rockenroll gasped timidly as she vainly struggled against my implacable grip.

“Putting the shit where it belongs!”

I pulled Rockenroll to the toilet and I dunked her head beneath the water. She fought back as much as she could, but I sat on her back and held her in place. She began to gurgle. Bubble erupted all around her face. I flushed the toilet so she could gasp up some air and not drown, but I never let her back up.

As the bowl refilled with water and she began gurgling again, I reached back and grabbed her pussy. Two of my fingers worked their way into her snatch, and I began roughly rubbing her clit and g-spot. It didn’t matter how much she hated me, or how much it hurt being drowned in a toilet, my fingers were magic, and I could bring any girl to climax in less than a minute.

“Cum for me, shithead,” I ordered.

A second later she did. Rockenroll began squirting all over my palm, some of it spraying far enough to sprinkle Kendra’s legs. The intrepid reporter grabbed her cameraman and forced him to lean in, getting a nice closeup of Rockenroll’s pussy gushing like a broken water-faucet.

Rockenroll orgasmed for almost twenty seconds, and it wasn’t until she finally stopped squirting that I finally let her head up from the bowl. Her face was drenched with water, tears, and mascara. She was struggling to breathe as she retched up toilet water.

I spat on her face, then slammed her head against the rim of the toilet, knocking her out.

The ironic thing was that I actually DID feel sorry about getting her fired, but she was being a bitch about it, and attacking me forced me to defend my reputation, so I had to put her down.

I turned around to see that I had gathered a respectable audience. Kendra was shaking with excitement and arousal. Her cameraman was gaping in shock. Mom beamed proudly at her badass daughter. My little brother Bucky had his pants unzipped and was shamelessly beating his average dick to the sight of his big sister whooping an emo-slut’s ass. Black Iron and Dragon-Snake were there too. Black Iron looked impressed, Dragon-Snake looked worried and angry. Cowgirl and Ninja both came in late, but they both saw enough to be benumbed.

I was tired, sore, and horny. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and masturbate myself to sleep, but I was still on camera, and that meant I had to put on a show. I winked, giggled, and blew the camera a kiss.

“Remember to root for me, okay?”