Billy takes control

Carly approached Billy in a confident forward march, triumph already on her face. One punch, one SUGGESTION of a punch, had made him retreat all the way to the ropes, and now he had nowhere left to run.

Knocking him out in the first ten seconds of the round sounded like a very good start to setting this match right again… But there would still have to be some post-fight dominance on top of that, to truly redeem this fight footage for her. Some loudly-spoken insults and mockery, for all to hear. Maybe a few extra hits after he went down, if she could get away with it. She was sure Matt would let her.

She would do whatever it took to DESTROY Billy. She would call him weak, call him EASY, and pick apart his entire years-long legacy. She would bring SHAME to the boy who had caused her so, so many problems, and then she would go backstage and his little fucking sister would worship Carly’s body, kissing her thighs and lapping up her pussy while her big brother slept heavily in the other room. Defeated and ruined at last. Beaten unconscious in front of a crowd. Anna was Carly’s now, and Billy’s career would be over. Her victory would still be perfect. She would take everything he had.

Unfortunately for Carly, Billy was sharper than she expected. And she really should have been focused on the now, instead of thinking about what she would do next.

Physically, Billy’s body was still hurt bad. Exhausted, sleepy, and worn down. So worn down that he could only move in small bursts of speed. He wasn’t his usual, rapid-flurry-of-heavy-blows-and-then-I’m-out-of-your-range-again self. But he still had enough left in him for a few occasional surges, and he used one such surge to suddenly rush forward, closing the distance with Carly before she could react, and driving a single punch deep into her gut.

“Huuuaagh-!” Carly’s eyes bulged as the glove drove home and the air was forced out of her - this wasn’t a full-strength Billy punch, but it was MUCH more powerful than the one from the end of the first round.

With a loud wheeze, Carly doubled over, clutching her stomach, and staggered back several clumsy steps. Each backwards step was disordered, and unstable.

“Hhnnggh…” she whined, arms wrapped around her tummy. A girly, pathetic sound.

The crowd reacted with a surprised “Ohhhh!”, some sounding disappointed while others sounded confused and a little impressed. Where had that speed been from Billy in the first round? Carly hadn’t even known that a punch was coming, before his glove was suddenly on her.

Carly was taken off balance, bent forwards and totally out of her fighting stance as she stumbled backwards. Billy’s bare chest rose and fell with heavy, labored breaths as he recovered from that single small burst of speed, but even as the diminished fighter gathered himself, he was already slowly walking forward - following Carly’s bow-legged retreat. Staying in range so he could follow up on the orange-haired feminist once he gathered the energy again.

His opponent was reeling. Those thick, bulky thighs looked so good bent inwards and unstable.

Carly managed to fight her intense desire to stay curled up, and lifted herself back into a shaky upright defense as Billy approached. It wasn’t very good, but it was at least SOMETHING. The look on her face had changed, though. It wasn’t triumphant, or smug. She looked uncertain, nervous - confused, weak, and small. That punch had brought her right back to reality. The reality that she was fighting a man.

Carly wasn’t making a move, just slowly backing away with her gloves held up. Each step was a bit more controlled now, but she still wanted time to recover and reassess.

That was when her back hit the ropes.

Carly’s mouth opened into a surprised ‘O’ as she realized she had just run out of space to retreat. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to where she was. And then, diminished though he may be, Billy rushed towards her with a second burst of speed.

He’d had success aiming low, and so that was where he continued to aim. Carly gasped and her eyes shot open wide as Billy was suddenly on top of her. With his opponent backed into a wall, she was easy pickings. Billy hit Carly with more bodyshots, hard and deep, driving her back against the firm elasticity of the ring ropes.

“OUUWAAGHH!!” Carly’s eyes bulged.

This time it wasn’t just one punch. It was two, then three, then four, each connection squishing against that faint hint of abs Carly had worked so hard for, bruising her thick tummy.

Carly’s jaw fell open wide, and her eyes shot all the way open to match. Her mind reeled, face frozen in a silent scream of… It was hard to say of what. Carly felt something shift in her guts. It was like Billy was battering her very womb, drawing it out, making it drop.

Billy’s burst of speed and power faded, but he remained in front of her, breathing heavily and continuing to pound his gloves against her tummy. His arms were fatigued, but he kept on using them. The pounding turned to slow, tired pushes. Even though the punches came slower, and had lost most of their power now, they were still doing things to her.

With another girly whine, and an immense amount of willpower, Carly twisted to the side, managing to get free of the position she had boxed herself into so she could move around Billy enough to escape the ropes and safely back away again. The bottom-heavy feminist barely got out, gasping for breath as she wobbled several steps backwards on unstable legs.

Her guard dropped low to protect her tummy. To protect her womb. Though it felt less like protection, and more like keeping it contained behind her white boxing gloves, while it begged and fought to be let out… A strict mother telling her fun-loving daughter that she had to stay home.

Oh, god.

This was what Billy was waiting for. With Carly’s guard low, he could really get to work now. Even though he was still drained from that last burst of speed, his arms fatigued, he couldn’t let the opportunity , and gave Carly a single looping punch up high on her way out.

His glove caught Carly on the cheek, and staggered her, making her backwards retreat even more wobbly. Her knees dipped for just a moment as she lost control of those mighty thighs. Weakened arms or not, Carly’s mind had been left reeling.

Billy stood in place, not following her this time. He just breathed deep and hard, letting his body rest, and watched her. Sweaty, and panting, and observant.

That one, slow punch to the cheek had messed Carly up pretty bad. She was wobbling around the ring, nearly falling over several times as she staggered around in uncontrolled directions. Teetering one way and then the other, her brain rattled and her meaty legs failing her. Her womb buzzing in her tummy. Vibrating against her protective white gloves.

What was happening to her…?

An old fear crept into her dizzy little head. The terrible, unconfirmed fear that she had tried to bury. The fear that she had a glass jaw.

A single glancing blow from a weakened Billy had left her so off-balance… Could that be blamed on the bodyshots? Or was her poor, proud, feminist brain secretly just a weak, submissive quitter?

Her guts shifted. Her womb burned. She really didn’t want to have a glass jaw. That sounded so pathetic…

“Go on Carly! Get him!” Anna called out ively from ringside, though it lacked the confidence of her previous interjections.

The young nerd was starting to worry. This really didn’t look good for her kickboxer girlfriend. Anna glanced nervously as Matt, as if hoping he would intervene somehow and get things back on track. But what could he do?

Matt met Anna’s eyes for just a moment before he turned away, looking back at the action. He told himself he was just doing his job as a ref, focusing on the fight in case something happened. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure what to think about this whole plan anymore. He definitely wasn’t cheering Billy on, not by a long shot. But if Carly managed to take back control, he wasn’t sure he would be cheering her on anymore either.

Maybe the best thing he could do was retreat into himself, forget the personal for a moment, and just focus on being a referee.

Eventually Carly’s embarrassing teetering came under control again, and she stopped that uncontrolled stumbling. Billy was still standing where he’d been when he’d thrown that punch, the same place he’d been standing when he drove Carly against the ropes. He was looking at her with sharp focus, but his arms hung down low, and his chest shifted with heavy exertion.

On some level, Carly ed that Billy looked worn out, like he was catching his breath again and letting his fatigued muscles recover after that last burst of speed. She knew she had to bring the pressure to him, or he would regroup enough for a third burst of fast, hard punches. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

Especially since she might have a glass jaw.

No, no, fuck, don’t say that, don’t think that… Having a glass jaw is weak. It’s embarrassing. It means you’re a quitter. A loser. Genetically predisposed to never win. Carly trembled. She really didn’t want to have a glass jaw… She would never be able to accept herself if she did.

Carly shook the idea out of her mind and steeled herself for battle. Gloves raised, she tried to advance again, knowing this was her best chance to end this.

Billy was tired. He was recovering. He was recovering from getting KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT. Carly wasn’t out of hope yet. She could win this. She was BETTER than him.

Just one solid connection with that chin, and the champ would slump. She knew it. He’d be snoozing for her, and it would all be over. Just ONE punch.

Billy lifted his gloves again, just before Carly reached him, but still didn’t move. With an angry “rrahh!!”, Carly rushed forward with a surge of her own, and began to throw strikes.

Bang, bang, bang, bang! Several punches landed Billy’s guard. Carly’s legs shifted and tensed and exploded with power with each punch, putting everything she had left behind them. She could feel Billy’s arms weakening beneath the force of her blows, just as they had in their sparring match a few days before.

But this time was going to be different. This fight was going to finish.

Her pussy was leaking a gleaming trail of juices down the inside of her mighty thighs, barely noticeable as her legs shifted under the gym lights. She was so fucking turned on. But she didn’t stop punching. Didn’t let up on her assault.

She couldn’t let Billy recover. If she took too long, that promise of a “one punch slump” might slip away from her.

Come on, come on… Open up, damn you! Give me that fucking chin!

As Carly was mid-combination, unleashing all of her rage and fury, Billy saw an opening. He suddenly surged out of his defense, right for Carly, interrupting her cathartic combination on his arms.

Carly squeaked, barely managing to get her guard up in time to block a heavy blow that would have caught her right on the jaw. Now that her arms were up, Billy switched to attacking her undefended body, using the rest of the energy he had left in the surge to batter that thick, fit tummy even more. Stirring up Carly’s insides and calling out for that traitorous womb to his side…

Carly cried out, spittle flying from her lips as her womb shifted once more. She felt so weak, so stunned. She froze up and just stood there like an idiot as Billy slammed into her guts. Fast, hard, deep. After the fourth connection, Carly couldn’t take any more. Her legs failed her at last, their strength sapped to oblivion. She dropped heavily to her knees, breathing hard and staring down at the mat with wet, glassy eyes.

Billy backed off to catch his breath, and watched her. Alert, and focused, and looking like a champion. Carly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“One… Two… Three…” Matt began the count. This time, he gave it straight. Dry. No pauses or questions to give Carly an extra chance to beat the count.

Carly was pretty sure she could have gotten herself up on four, with shaky and wobbly legs, but she allowed herself all the recovery time she could get. Unfortunately, that also meant more time on her knees, thick ass resting on her calves and gloves pressed against the mat, staring down in what looked like a submissive bow.

She knew Billy was still hard. She knew his obscenely fat cock was still bulging in his shorts. She knew because she could feel that intense heat, radiating onto the top of her lowered head. “Big dick energy” was seeping through her skull and into her brain as she knelt before it, gasping. His thick cock must have been so close to her, and now it was working its magic. Silently working on her. Tinkering with her. Trying to massage a warm, submissive nook into her brain with its own sheer heat.

On eight, Carly finally began to lift herself up. Matt said “nine” before she was fully standing, and then the count stopped. Carly held her gloves up, eyes still wet, looking like she was trying her very hardest to be strong.

Matt stepped forward.

“Hey. You good? Can you continue?” he asked quietly, voice caring and empty of judgement despite his mixed feelings in the moment.

Carly scowled at him. On her flushed, teary face, it looked less like fearsome and more bratty.

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed, her voice breaking.

She knew how bad this looked. She didn’t need her boyfriend reminding her that she was getting batted around like a cat toy.

Matt grimaced. Wordlessly, he backed off and lifted a hand, then brought it down.

“Fight.”

Billy was on her again, before Carly had even a moment to notice. Her poor reaction time (which she insisted was not biological) meant that Billy got another glove slammed hard against her womb, making Carly cry out and instantly drop down to her knees again, trembling and doubled over, clutching her tummy. Knocked down instantly after she had just gotten up.

The sound of her knees hitting the mat was heavy, loud, and meaningful. The crowd murmured at what they were seeing, as Matt stepped forward and began a new ten count.

This time, Carly didn’t use it as a little break. She clenched her jaw, trying to control her locked-up muscles. She was fighting to stand up, trying to will herself out of the tight, trembling, kneeling ball she had fallen into. Even with the constant effort, it was still another nine count. A nine count that Matt, despite himself, had seemed to let linger on “nine” for longer than he should have. If he was being fair, he probably would have reached “twelve”.

All the same, Carly rose upon wobbly, unsteady legs before Matt said “ten”. He stepped forward again, speaking to her quietly.

“Babe, seriously. Don’t force yourself. I can call off the fight right now. We’ll even make it look like I called it too early,” he said to her, voice empathic. “I’ll be the bad guy. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

Carly trembled with anger. “No. No, no!” she hissed back, which sounded less threatening while her gloves were still laid over her bruised, sore tummy. “You think I’m a loser? A quitter? You don’t believe I can do it? How many times have I put YOU the fuck to sleep in our wrestling matches?”

Both of them knew those weren’t real. They were intimate, private moments, now being weaponized to get Matt in line.

Sighing, and not rising to the argument, Matt stepped back, ready to resume the fight. But his scowling, trembling, tummy-clutching girlfriend wasn’t done with him, and reached out a glove to touch his arm and stop him.

“Quitting would be small-dick energy,” she said. The words sat between them for a moment as Carly brought her arm back to her tummy, glaring sideways at Matt and waiting for him to react. It almost looked like she wanted him to be upset.

Matt opened his mouth, then closed it. Then open it again, and closed it.

The meaning of her words was obvious. Matt had suggested quitting. Matt had “quit” against Billy before. Matt’s dick wasn’t nearly as big as the one bulging champ’s boxing shorts.

Carly’s viscous words sat between them, hanging heavy in the air between the losing fighter and the ref who had granted her a very generous pause after the word “nine”.

Did this really make her feel better? Did insulting him, taking her anger out on him, make Carly feel like she wasn’t losing? Like she hadn’t just taken two back-to-back nine counts? Or did she just like to assert herself over a man, even when that man was only trying to help? Even when that man had done nothing fucking wrong?

Shaking his head, sighing, Matt once again lifted and brought down his hand. “Fight,” he said, sounding defeated.

His girlfriend was falling apart, and he didn’t feel nearly as distressed about it as he imagined he would. He wouldn’t say he wanted Billy to win, but… Well. Matt wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

Carly unwrapped her arms and lifted them into a defense somewhat better than her last, owing to the extra recovery time her argument had granted her.

“Get his chin!” Anna anxiously called out from the side of the ring, desperate for her new girlfriend to take her older brother out. “Aim for the chin, his weak chin!”

Carly trembled. She was glad to at least have Anna’s . Anna wasn’t telling her to quit the way Matt had just done. But Billy heard his younger sister’s words too, and they seemed to light a fire underneath him. Carly saw his eyes sharpen, and a sudden panic picked up in her heart. She broke from her stance and moved her gloves out in front of herself, like she was trying to calm him down before he did something crazy.

“I-I…” Carly began, voice faltering, not really sure what she was going to say to him. Did she want to beg? Negotiate?

It didn’t matter. Carly practically screamed as Billy rushed towards her. This time she didn’t bother trying to block, or dodge, or tough it out. She RAN.

She didn’t look like a fighter. She looked like a scared, naive little girl. Carly threw her arms down and ran until she hit ropes, then turned and ran to the next corner, and again, and again. Her thick, mighty legs beating a full retreat, running circles around the ring as Billy chased after her.

She looked ridiculous. And worse, the taller, more athletic Billy was faster than her. He was closing fast. Carly felt like a terrified gazelle being chased down by a lion. Her heart thumped with fear and panic. And everyone just watched this pathetic, cowardly display, until Carly’s chase finally ended.

Billy caught up to her enough to throw a punch. Carly was still mid-desperate-run when he caught her on the chin with his glove. The extended chase had taken some of the energy out of the blow, but it rocked Carly all the same.

“Guahh!” Carly’s momentum was thrown completely out of balance.

She staggered, stumbled, and only stayed upright because she fell against the padded ringpost she had been running towards, now leaning heavily against it for . It was lucky. If she fell, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to get back up again.

Her poor little head was spinning. That little run-around had at least taken the edge off Billy’s power, and prevented his latest surge from being catastrophic, but Carly’s head was loopy. Spinning. Corrupted.

Billy stopped to catch his breath, and Carly was stuck in place catching her own. She knew this was just giving Billy more time for his next burst of speed, but she couldn’t get off the ringpost yet. She was too dizzy to stand on her own legs without falling over. She barely had the energy to turn around, so that it was her back leaning against the padded ringpost, and she could look at Billy.

A petulant whine sailed out of Carly. She didn’t understand. This was all going so wrong. This was supposed to be her moment of glory. Why was she… Losing, all over again? Why was Billy suddenly untouchable? Why was her head so dizzy?

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she fought to hold them back. She did not want to start crying right now. But it was hard to keep the emotions in.

All of her fears were coming to life. She still couldn’t beat a man. For a fleeting moment it had looked like she could have, but she couldn’t. And now everyone was going to see her topple over and lose, just like they had all those years ago.

All of her training was for nothing. All of the encouragement she had received from her coach and her older milf friends, from Matt and Anna, was for nothing. She just wasn’t good enough.

But she didn’t UNDERSTAND. He had seemed so different in their text messages before! He had praised her. He had basically itted defeat! He had QUIT for her over text message!

The first round had felt GREAT, up until that ending… Why couldn’t she feel more of that? Why was he so different to the submissive loser she had been texting?

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. But it felt real. And it was happening. So maybe… The actual illusion was ever thinking she had a chance to win.

Heavy on her feet, Carly pushed herself up off the ringpost. Billy took this as a sign to stop catching his own breath, and the two fighters lifted their gloves, moving towards each other once more. Billy was focused, sharp, and Carly looked like a little mouse, hiding behind her gloves. Those huge, bare thighs were a total contrast to her timid posture. They looked shaky, and unconfident, when before they had been glorious.

Thanks to the breaks Billy was having to take between surges, there wasn’t very long left in the round. If Carly could just hold out a little longer, make it back to her corner stool, she might have a chance… Of course, Billy would recover even more too, and come into the third round even better, but…

Carly whined. A weak, pathetic sound. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it. She felt small, and afraid, and… And was she really about to lose again? In front of all these people? After all that training, all that setup? All that fucking TALK? Was she finished?

She couldn’t help but think about all the time she had spent in Luke’s kickboxing class. All those hours. All that dedication. All that blossoming self-belief. She couldn’t help but think what losing this fight would do to her. Fuck… It might destroy her.

She really wanted to win. She wanted Billy out cold. She wanted him to fail to rise for the ten count. But more than that, more than she wanted to win and put Billy in his place, she was terrified of the idea that she might lose…

Knocked out by Billy. In front of Anna. In front of Matt. In front of everyone. If she couldn’t make it to the third round, they would all see her fall.

Oh, god, please. She really didn’t want to go out this way… Not now… Not like this…