So on the site’s Discord, we have being doing writing prompts/challenges and I will be posting the results here!
The following posts are what people came up with when looking at the image above!
Evelyn:
I was trapped. She was winning. And the dawning of that gloating realization in her eyes is what drove me wild. It was the moment that our clash turned into more than winning. It turned into a need as instinctively as breathing and as unthinking and as unthinkable.I opened my mouth…. And I bit her. Not like a child on a playground. Like a wounded animal. I….CHEWED her. I wanted not for her to let go of me; that never entered my mind. I wanted only to hurt her until her pain overwhelmed her. The same way she’d tried to hurt me, and nearly succeeded…….God help me. Her screams took me to the edge of climaxing…… what would throw me over that cliff…..? I twisted my head…. To force myself deeper….
Phoenix Falcone:
“So, I was checking out the lingerie section of the store, and for some reason the girl at the register was eyeing me off, like I’d done something wrong. I mean, okay, sure, I may have tried on that one dress that was a couple of sizes too small, ripped the side, and then left it in the fitting room…But how could she have seen that? Was she spying on me?”
“I doubt she was spying on you…”
“Anyway, I was browsing, and she walks up to me and says, ‘I know what you did…’, and I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’. Then she led me over to the fitting room and pointed at the dress I left on the floor…”
“Oh my god! How did she know? Where there cameras?”
“No idea…But anyway, I was so mad! Like how dare that bitch accuse me of ripping that dress!”
“Even though you obviously did…”
“Yeah, but even so! Anyway, when she went in to pick up the dress I shut the door behind us and I jumped her. She was a tough bitch, we really went at it. She smacked me a few times in the face which hurt, but I got her back, and I’m pretty sure I pulled some of her brown curls out and left them on the floor in there!”
“Holy shit! Are you hurt?”
“No way, I’m fine, but she’s a bit worse for wear. We got pretty into it and at one point she wrenched me to the ground. She was leaning over me and holding me up by my shoulder strap, punching me in the stomach. I was winded and couldn’t do much, but I saw an opening. While I was on my back, I realised she was not wearing a bra, at work I might add! So I lifted up her sleeveless shirt. Her tits swung free and I bit down on them!”
“Wow…”
“So yeah, she screamed out in pain. Then I heard yelling and banging from outside the fitting room, and the two of us just sort of stopped…Long story short, I don’t know why she didn’t press charges, or why I made it out of the fitting room with only some stares from the other patrons. But the weirdest thing was, when I went up to pay for some stuff, the bitch handed me a card with my receipt…”
“Really? What did it say?”
“Just an address and a time. Like I’m supposed to go there…”
“Wow that’s weird…What do you think will happen if you show up?”
“I don’t know, but if that bitch wants round 2, I’ll be ready…”
Yes, That Erica:
“AUGAHA” Megan cried out as Audrey smashed her clasped together hands down viciously into the base of her neck, the double axe handle blow driving the blonde to her knees. The Apartment House Wrestling bout had been going on for nearly 45 minutes; those in attendance only wasted a lot of money on a whole seat for the affair, because they only needed the edge.
Audrey smirks as she straightens up and shakes her curly hair from her face. Her exposed and scratched up breasts keep their bounces as she struts around the downed blonde. “On your knees where you belong, huh tramp. Now, time to end this.” She hisses as she steps around behind Megan.
The blonde is dazed, but she had the brunette well scouted. She knew that Audrey loved to put girls out between her tits, shoving them into her victims faces as she jerks back on their hair. And as she does just that, the crowd and Audrey both gasp as the blondes hands shoot up and clutch on the hanging tit, wrapping around the base of the orb, pulling down as Megan opens her mouth and digs her teeth into titflesh.
Audrey’s scream is loud enough to shatter glass as she is shocked by the blonde’s counter.
BaileyBadass:
Pain. It had always been a grey area for me. Evolution had me wired up in such a way that any bruise, scrape, or what have you should be avoided. “It’s the body’s way of telling you to stop.”
Well. My body doesn’t communicate well. I first noticed it when I cut my finger chopping celery. The cut wasn’t deep, but it bled, and there was a radiant ache that went along with it. It wasn’t til my roommate was wrapping a paper towel around my finger that I realized I’d been staring at it.
After that, I was hooked. The deep, all encompassing presence of it. The way you could feel an ache in your wrist in your toes. And in….other places. I found myself taking chances. Getting mouthy to complete strangers. A woman on the subway slapped me and my panties were a fucking bog. A bread delivery-man hit me in the chest with a tray of buns he was offloading from his truck and I thought I’d mount him then and there.
But it was Naomi who first introduced me to fighting as a kink. She was another bar back at the watering hole that I worked at. And one night when I’d threatened to slap her if she didn’t get out of the way, she spun on me like a hungry animal. “Only if I get to slap you back. Share and share alike.”
Three months later I was spending more time at her place than mine. Clawing. Slapping. She introduced me to darkness I didn’t even know existed. She baptized me in the river Agony and I was reborn. We scarred one another all through the winter; if not physically then psychologically. Called me her muse. I called her my slut.
Those scars have healed. The memories remain vivid.
CharlyC:
What we’re seeing here isn’t the enactment of the actual fight…it was a poster from the eighties, when perms and mullets were the THE hairstyles for a night out.
The ladies we see here look like models enacting a scene where they’re all dolled up, ready to tangle and pull hair. Sure it looks like the brunette is ripping at the blonde’s bra strap and the blonde has sunk her nails into the soft flesh of her opponent’s large breast, on the verge of sinking her sharp teeth into a thick erect and chewy nipple of her victim…but this was but a prelude. A prelude to what many recall as the catfight counter part of the “Rumble in the Jungle”.
It was in these days that home videos became popular and the underground scene was only starting to get traction…the event was real…and the fight was real but what happened to the footage remained a mystery.
It was their husbands that had set them up to it. A way to earn some cash they said and fulfil their hubbies dirty desires to see their wives fight. Interestingly enough the “ladies” were hesitant to fight, but as soon as they met the raw sexual and violent chemistry was immediately palpable. After exchanging two or three sentences it was decided and they were destined to fight.
At the photo shoot, before they hooked up the covert glances behind their significant others back’s, they went off into dark corners exchanging snide remarks, trash talking sessions balancing on the edge of prematurely clawing into each other before anyone noticing they were missing.
During the photo shoot, the boundaries of acceptability were sought …pose with your hands at each other’s throat, clench fists in each other’s hair, dig nails in the soft flesh of her magnificently large tits…all was done with all too much enthusiasm, inflicted various degrees of pain, hiding the agony and feeling the urge to hurt one another.
It was a week later….and I wish I could say I was there to have witnessed it.
Deadly Dina:
Hairspray, all I could smell was her hairspray, my hairspray, the hairspray of a dozen girls all sharing too small a dressing room on too hot a day. If it hadn’t been so hot, it probably wouldn’t have happened. Who can say? Strippers are a contentious people.
But she glared at me across the room, and I glared back, and all the months of business between us, we didn’t even need words to hate any more. She raised her eyebrow at me. It was a dare, a challenge, irresistible as a glove to the cheek. It could not be refused.
I was not in the ideal costume for a fight, but I didnt care. I crossed the distance with five angry paces of my long legs, and tossed her to the couch by the hair. I gave no pause getting around that couch to grab for her hair, her camisole.
Anger and hairspray were all. I twisted fingers in lace and hair, pulling to rip, just needing to pay her insolence back in pain…and if I’d had thought in me, I’d have remembered who she was and why i hated her.
She reminded my by exposing my breast and sinking teeth in it like a hungry rat.
She was nothing but a rat infesting my life, and I was going to wring her neck for it unless they stopped me.
She BIT me…and my retaliation…would be indescribable.
AnnaTheMarineChick:
I hate her so much!
Barely out of high school with our teased hair sprayed hair, cleavage revealing shirts, stone washed denim. She always flaunted her tits, showed them off for the whole school, hell the whole town! She made sure to point out that I was not as big as her! Yes, by god, I hate her. And what does this hate drive me to do?
The fight was just in its infancy. We barely had our big breasts out. Hands becoming greedy with the globes of flesh on our chests. The Aqua Net hair stuck to our fingers. Anyone bitch from the 80’s and 90’s remembers the crunch as you grab a handful of that hair sprayed hair. Your fingers sticky with loose locks clinging to your hands. Clothes tearing and hair pulling are good for a fight, but the true test is when it gets dirty. And it only starts when teeth come into play. Not on an arm or leg but latching on to something intimate. So I wanted to escalate it, with my teeth on this cow’s tit!
The rest is almost scary to behold when the depths of depravity are dived into by two equally skilled catfighters. Cry Havoc and unleash the “cats” of war!
Walking down the beach, people often looked at the trikini clad girl, holding a conch to her ear as if she were to hear the ocean. Little could they know the longing she felt doing it.
Those, who do know her, call her Sarah, the late afternoon sunlight caressing her hair, alternating between honey blonde and light chestnut, depending on angle and light strength.
The one thing passersby could discern was the hearing aid she wore on both ears. Today, like any day for the past 3 weeks, nothing Sarah does is left to chance. She met Bonnie in college and they were madly in love, until… she met Lexi.
Both young women took civil rights classes for the deaf and hard of hearing. Where Bonnie was deaf from birth, Sarah suffered from tinnitus until she had her surgery.
Lexi’s father owned a frozen food company, so The Girl With The Silver Spoon could have had anything. She wanted Bonnie. She wooed her, but like any spoiled child, eventually she got bored with her, and dumped her in the very beach house that Sarah had in her field of vision.
The heartbroken Bonnie could not muster facing up to what she did to her relationship with Sarah, nor could she easily overcome her love and she moved to the other end of the country.
Five years went since by. Sarah always told hearing friends that listening to the conch is like hearing the rush of the sea in her ears too. Sometimes she wished she could just describe her love for Bonnie the same way.
She spent years to infiltrate Lexi’s social circles, updated her wardrobe, changed certain mannerisms to become unrecognizable. She hired Paul as a fake boyfriend as the guy had pedigree from a family who lost their status due to the mismanagement on Paul’s father’s behalf, who was tricked by Lexi’s father.
This new woman has come to reinvent herself, to lure Lexi into an in flagrante delicto and have a legit reason to bitchfight her in front of her friends.