With the Christmas break all over and done with, things had pretty much fallen back to their regular weekly rhythm. It was Saturday morning now, and as per usual, I was heading towards the school’s gym. Not to work out, but to spectate something far more interesting than a bunch of sweaty guys lifting dumbbells. Fleur wasn’t with me this time, having left early to oversee some pre-match preparations.

Today’s weekly fight event would be featuring two new girls, and it was customary for the veterans of the craft to provide the newbies with a bit of ‘wisdom and guidance’ ahead of their debut at the Academy. Of course, whether or not this particular batch of novices actually needed any pointers was a different matter… I’d personally witnessed how Fleur’s little sister Gabrielle pretty much dominated a gorgeous, stacked lingerie model’s rack with her own pair, dismantling the busty Dutch girl’s best assets in a very convincing manner and proving that bigger most definitely did NOT equal better. Briefly put, it seemed that at least the young French girl was already plenty proficient in the noble art of competitive boob-wrestling. Whether today’s other debutante – a second-year of Italian origin – also had prior experience in the field, we’d find out soon enough.

Besides the two newcomer matches, there was also supposed to be at least one other fight on the cards, but I doubted it’d turn out to be a high-profile match-up; given how the previous event, just before Christmas, had been wholly monopolized by the Academy’s top four girls, it was safe to assume we wouldn’t be seeing any of the “heavyweights” on this occasion. As exciting as championship matches were, the lower-ranked fighters had a right to some screen time of their own as well. And to be honest, I kinda liked the variety. The more boobs the merrier.

After encountering a few classmates in the corridor and exchanging some quick greetings with them, I finally reached the doorway to the gymnasium. For once, I seemed to have arrived a bit early. It didn’t take me long to spot Fleur’s lean yet shapely figure: My girlfriend was standing near the centre of the room, just off the mat, clad in light blue jeans and a loose-fitting white halter top. Next to her, I saw Gabrielle, who was wearing a pair of darker, navy blue denim shorts and a cream-colored blouse. Both French girls looked stunning as ever, and were easily identifiable as siblings, with one blonde appearing a slightly taller, more buxom, and the other a cuter, more petite version of the same general design. The blonde bombshells weren’t alone, though; a group of about a dozen female students had gathered into a loose half-circle, and seemed to be chatting animatedly about something.

As I got closer, something odd caught my attention. Unlike the other girls, Fleur was completely silent, and appeared to be observing the scene with a stony expression on her face. I tried to follow her gaze, and noticed something else out of the ordinary.

Among the females gathered along the edges of the mat was a brunette I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen before. No, definitely hadn’t. She wasn’t someone you’d be likely to forget. From behind, you could’ve almost mistaken her for the third-year volleyball star Megan. The new girl’s thighs weren’t quite as thick of course, and her butt, while very nice and shapely in its own right, seemed somewhat smaller and less muscular upon closer inspection. But their general appearance wasn’t actually too far off, looking both meaty and sculpted at the same time. Easily worth a bit of gawking.

Both aforementioned parts of fine female anatomy were covered by black, rather skin-tight fabric, which, I had to admit, did do a great job showcasing the girl’s impressive rear. Higher up, the brunette wore a more comfy-looking knit jumper, though her bust was apparently expansive enough to create two large, round bumps in the front of the garment. Any precise assessment of bra size was impossible for the time being, but my bet was on double rather than singular D. Quick comparison with Angelina, who was standing close by, seemed to confirm those suspicions.

In addition to Fleur and Angelina, several other third- and second-year girls occupied the stage area, but I couldn’t see Ginny, Susan or Lavender anywhere. Maybe firsties simply weren’t invited? Apart from Gabrielle who was getting briefed, of course. It looked like I’d arrived just as they were finishing up their meeting, with some students starting to wander off while others milled about to chat with friends. Padma, Cho and Daphne were present from Year 2, as was the Autumn term’s designated ‘newbie tutor’ Tracey, who stood right next to the leggy brown-haired girl and appeared to be asking her about something. As I made my way to find a seat, I continued to steal glances at the brunette. This had to be the ‘bitchy Isabella’ I’d heard so much about.

I knew it wasn’t uncommon for highly attractive people to let all the attention they received get to their heads, resulting in a less-than-charming disposition. And in this particular case, that phenomenon could definitely explain away an awful lot of cattiness. The girl had a heck of a body.

I watched the brunette swish her long and wavy, dark brown hair to the side while she chatted with Tracey, finally revealing more of her face to my vantage point. As one might’ve hoped, it too looked nothing short of beautiful, featuring a striking mix of sharp angles and softer, more languid contours. Those were complemented by two large, golden hazel eyes and a set of plush lips that appeared to have formed a semi-permanent, positively sultry pout. I found myself taken aback. All in all, the brunette seemed to have just about every box ticked, and was easily good-looking enough to be a model. Swimsuit, rather than catwalk.

While she had darker features than Fleur – not just in terms of hair colour, but also when it came to complexion, with Isabelle’s looking noticeably more tan – their figures and overall proportions seemed actually rather similar. From what I could make out, the brunette may have been just a tad heavier (meaning slightly more curvaceous, since there didn’t really appear to be any excess fat on her body), but without a direct side-to-side comparison it was difficult to be certain.

What WAS clear was that my girlfriend, who for so long had been widely accepted as the hottest female in the school, now had two serious contenders for that title: her younger sister Gabrielle, and this new girl Isabella. Add to that mix one existing rival – a fiery-haired and -tempered fitness babe by the name of Ginny, who’d in a short time built a considerable following of her own – and you suddenly had a veritable free-for-all of female beauty. And that was before you even started looking at the next batch of grade-A hotties like Angelina, Megan, Cho and Lavender, each with their own, far from insignificant fanbase to draw support from…

In short, we appeared to have moved from a relatively stable one-girl hegemony to a much more turbulent, multipolar state of affairs. Things sure were getting lively here at the Academy.

I was brought back from my musings by Daphne’s clear, melodious laughter. Just a few feet from me, the tall, aristocratic blonde was busy swatting Tracey’s hand away from her sizable bust while she cracked up over whatever the other girl had just said.

“Oh, don’t be like that, TeeDee,” she cackled, grinning widely, “You’re just jealous, admit it.” A few of Tracey’s best friends, like Daphne, sometimes liked to refer to the raven-haired girl by her initials, T.D., presumably because they sounded a lot like ‘titty’. Not the worst nickname to have in these circles, I guess. While Tracey wasn’t quite as top-heavy as her friend, her bust still dwarfed those of most girls.

“Jealous of what, exactly? Of you getting your jugs handed to you by Fleur? Not bloody likely,” Tracey shot back with a chortle.

“No, you dummy: jealous of the fact I’ve actually gone tit-to-tit with little miss perfect, and given her precious boobs a run for their money. Twice, no less,” Daphne clarified in a mock-indignant tone. “You, on the other hand, have never even had the guts to challenge her.”

Tracey snorted. “There’s brave, and then there’s brash. Seeing how well both of your matches went, I didn’t really fancy becoming just another notch in the champ’s belt. We both know she’d flatten me.”

“Well, yeah, most likely,” the blonde admitted with a casual shrug. “But that’s not the point. Getting flattened by Fleur has become almost like a rite of passage here. All the top girls have done it. Angelina more than most, and that hasn’t hurt her street cred, has it?” Daphne grinned, ignoring her friend’s dramatic roll of the eyes. “You see, you don’t need to BEAT Fleur to prove yourself. At this point, just facing her in the ring and bruising those queen-bee boobies a bit is enough,” the blonde cooed. I watched Tracey raise a sceptical eyebrow.

“No, seriously,” Daphne continued in a more sober tone, though she was still grinning. “Anyone who can spar with Fleur’s jugs on even terms, especially if the result ends up being pretty close, has shown her rack’s not to be trifled with,” the blonde pointed out. “Besides, we’ve already seen that Fleur’s not totally invincible; if you can get in some good blows early on, and manage to tenderize those perky suckers enough that she can’t just bully you around with her firmness, there’s a realistic chance you might be able to outlast her in a hug. I mean, Lavender’s boobs aren’t that much more solid than mine, and she managed to grind Fleur’s set out with them. All it takes is a bit of luck.”

“Hmh… you sure it was just luck?” Tracey replied slowly, not looking entirely convinced. “Sure, Lav’s smaller than we are, and her rack does look a bit bouncy, but she’s also flattened Alicia and Padma. And had draws with both you and Angelina, too.”

“Well, obviously it’s not ‘just’ luck,” Daphne conceded. “And Fleur’s earlier match with Super-size Susan might’ve helped her out a bit. But my point is that a girl like you, with a pair of big and reasonably dense tits, can win against Fleur.”

“To be honest, I think I came pretty close to doing that myself in our last match, in November… if I’d landed a few more hits in that boob-slugging bout at the start, or managed to get her trapped in a pin like the one she used on me, I reckon my jugs might’ve ended up taming hers. It sure as hell would’ve been a close call.” the blonde added in a more contemplative tone, her face looking like it had trouble deciding whether to be disappointed or proud.

“Aaanyway,” Daphne continued just a bit too nonchalantly, drawing out the word as the girls began to make their way off the mat. “The great thing about fighting against Fleur is that even if you do lose, everyone’ll know you got out-boobed by the best. It’s like getting knocked out by Mike Tyson.”

The sound of a soft yet vaguely ominous laugh met those last few words. I pivoted my head to a bit to left, and noticed that the shapely brunette I’d ogled at earlier had been observing the interaction discreetly from the sidelines. Much like myself. She was wearing a wry, superior smirk on her face, and shook her head, looking mildly amused.

“I doubt that’ll be the case for much longer,” the dark-haired beauty quipped, her voice light and cavalier. “Fleur’s good, I can attest to that, and she definitely has a nice rack. But the best? We’ll see about that.”

Daphne’s thin, finely trimmed eyebrows appeared to have disappeared into her hairline as she regarded the new girl, looking curious to say the least. Tracey’s expression was fairly similar to her friend’s, but unlike the blonde, she seemed intrigued rather than confused.

“Of course…” she nodded, shooting Daphne a brief look. “Isabella here used to go to the same school as our esteemed head girl, right before Fleur’s transfer to the Academy. You’d have known that if you didn’t arrive late like always.”

“Oooh,” the blonde’s eyes lit up in understanding, peering at the new girl with considerable interest. “So you’ve bumped tits with her then, back when you lived in France?”

“Switzerland, actually,” Isabella replied, glancing at her nails and sounding a bit bored. “My father was stationed in Geneva. The school’s in France, but right on the border.” While she did have a faint accent, the brunette seemed to speak almost perfect English.

“And yes, we’ve tussled plenty of times. Mainly in private, though. Public matches weren’t really a thing over there,” the dark-haired girl shrugged.

Somehow, I had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason for the closed doors. Several months ago, when Fleur and I were discussing our previous dating partners and experiences with each other, she’d listed a number of girls that she’d been… intimate with. One of them was Bella – or Isabella as her full name turned out to be – who’d been Fleur’s lover during her last year at the old school. From what I’d gathered, that particular relationship had proved much more stormy and tumultuous than the others, and ended with some considerable fireworks. While she hadn’t actually said as much, the impression I got from that conversation was that aside from her proneness to being bitchy and manipulative, it’d been Isabella’s general domineering and overly competitive personality that was the major reason behind their break-up. The brunette simply would not be second to anyone in any way, however slight or minor. Even equality wouldn’t do. She had to be superior, more powerful, on top, in command. She needed to dominate.

It wasn’t difficult to see how being in a relationship with another alpha female might’ve lead to a few… issues.

“Aaaannnd?” Daphne and Tracey asked in unison, their impatient voices dragging me back down to Earth – and causing the modelesque Italian student to scoff a bit.

“Well, if you must know,” she said with a sniff. “Fleur was still a bit bigger than me back then, and that size advantage allowed her to squeak out a narrow win most of the time.”

“Most?” “Not all?” Daphne and Tracey asked, again at the same time, but now with a slightly different choice of words.

“No, not all,” the brunette replied silkily, her lush, pouty lips curling into a smirk. “I’ve felt those fat, arrogant boobs wilt against mine more than once. Taking Fleur and her precious rack down a notch used to be one of my favourite pastimes.”

“And that was before my girls had their final growth spurt. Now, it looks like I’m the busty one.”

*~*~*

At the opposite end of the large room, and entirely unaware of the conversation that was taking place by the mat, a full-figured girl with bushy brown hair had just stepped into the gymnasium. Following on her heels were two other females: a lean, visibly toned redhead and an equally thin but far less ripped blonde. Their tastes in fashion seemed just as diverse, the brunette having chosen a pair of grey jeans and a purple wool sweater while the athletically-inclined redhead wore black leggings and a tank top, and the light-haired girl completed the set with a bright yellow lolita dress and a matching pair of fluffy ears. Yes. Fluffy ears.

The trio wasn’t paying much attention to the occasional odd looks their admittedly rather mismatched appearances garnered. Instead, they were busy grilling the pixie-haired ‘lolita’ about her late-night meeting with a certain other blonde.

“So you two didn’t go all the way, then?” the redhead continued to pester her fellow first-year.

“No Ginny, all we’ve done so far is some heavy snogging,” the slight girl replied in her usual cheerful, airy voice. “She did try to grope my boobs a bit as well, but since there’s not really too much to grab onto, especially through clothing, she gave up pretty quickly.”

“What, you couldn’t take off your shirt to give her a better go?” the redhead complained, looking annoyed. “For chrissakes, Luna, you had the perfect opportunity to coax her into returning the favour!”

“Calm down, Ginny. You’ll get a good look at Gabrielle’s assets yourself in just a few minutes,” the brunette pointed out in a conciliatory tone as they all made their way towards the stands. “No need to bite Luna’s head off over it.”

“Huh?” the redhead blinked. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about that. I mean, yeah, sure, fresh intel is always appreciated. But Gabrielle is seriously fucking H.O.T.,” she mouthed, her voice low, almost like a growl. “Trust me, I’ve noticed. We go to the same classes, and she always dresses to impress.”

“I don’t get how Luna can call herself a lesbian if she didn’t even try to feel that glorious body up. I’m bi, and I would’ve jumped at the first chance to rip her clothes off…” the sporty redhead grumbled under her breath. There was a definite greedy glint in her eyes as they scanned the room for a certain someone…

*~*~*

It had taken me a while to get my breathing back under control, and longer still to get rid of the physical reaction that picturing the scenes from Isabella’s revelation had caused. I desperately wanted to talk to my girlfriend and get her account of the events – preferably with as many vivid details as possible – but unfortunately, it looked like that’d have to wait.

Because this was technically a debutante event, featuring two introductory matches to present new fighters to the ‘society’, all the top fighters had their designated places at the front of the centremost seating area. Fleur in the middle, Ginny to her right and Angelina to her left, and so on. For once, I’d managed to get a seat in the front row as well, but it was on the wing to left of them. The three stands were arranged into an U-shape as usual, which meant that I had a good view of most people there.

Across the mat from me, on the other flank of the audience, I spotted two chesty first-years. Hannah and Susan had evidently just showed up and were chattering excitedly with Gabrielle, who looked even more dainty than usual next to the two rather rotund (if also well-proportioned) girls. Just a few feet from them, Katie and Alicia were hanging out with the equally athletic third-year Megan. All three appeared to be eyeing Fleur’s younger sister with interest, and at least one of them, I noticed, was openly staring at Gabrielle’s heart-shaped butt. Whether the volleyball player was trying to check out the competition, or was simply admiring one of the few posteriors that rivaled her own, I couldn’t quite tell from this distance.

My girlfriend Fleur had already taken her assigned seat in the middle of the ‘VIP section’, and seemed to be deep in conversation with her old nemesis (okay, more like close rival) Angelina, who was sitting right next to her. While the two girls hadn’t always been on civil terms, I’d noticed their interactions getting somewhat less antagonistic following the rare ‘first-year invasion’ of the top rankings at the end of last term, which had understandably incentivized these one-time archenemies to bury the hatchet, so to speak. Or to keep it temporarily sheathed, anyway.

The seats were filling up at a steady pace as students from all three years packed into the gymnasium. As I glanced over to my left, I was greeted by Hermione’s beautiful, pearly white smile. The second-year appeared to be parting ways with a skinny, pixie-haired blonde whose outfit left little doubt as to who it was. Only Luna would cosplay at a fight event. I returned Hermione’s smile as the second-year traipsed over to me, her substantial, sweater-clad bosom making a small bounce with each step. My eyes were irresistably drawn to the sight, and only when I finally managed to draw my gaze back up towards her face, I realized she’d been doing it on purpose.

“Nice to see you too, Ced,” the brunette grinned, giving me a cute, innocent-looking wink. I knew it was anything but.

“They’re looking great like always,” I shot back, deciding that two could play this game. “Even if a bit overdressed.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow before peering down at her bustline, slowly and meaningfully.

“Well, I thought it’d be rude to steal the attention away from all the contestants,” she replied in a playful tone, her eyes twinkling. “Besides, I think my greatest strengths in the looks department are located a bit lower.”

I wanted to disagree, since the brunette did have a very appealing pair of big, sexy boobs, but realized that she probably had a point. If Hermione’s rack was nice, her meaty thighs and beautifully rounded bum were exceptional.

Very different from Megan’s or Gabrielle’s, of course. But highly attractive all the same.

We didn’t have too much time to chat (or flirt) before a loud clapping sound echoed around the room. Tracey had made her way back onto the mat, and was trying to get everyone to quiet down.

“Okay ladies and gents, listen up! It’s a new year, and new whole school term, full of exciting new things to learn. Not to be outdone, we’ve managed to acquire two entirely new titfighters for you to ogle at, too!” the raven-haired girl announced, grinning at the loud cheers the crowd erupted into.

“However, before we can let them take the stage and show off their goods, there’s one match-up that’s been in the queue for a few weeks now.”

“The challenge was issued already back in early December, but due to certain high profile developments at the end of last term…” Tracey trailed off, glancing meaningfully in the direction of the top four girls sitting in the front row. She waited for all the yells, hollers and laughs to settle down before continuing. “…they’ve had to wait for their turn a bit longer than usual.”

“Well, they need wait no longer!”

“You better be ready to feast your eyes on some ridiculously big hooters, ’cause we’re about to witness two of the bustiest blonde bitches around lock horns in a much-anticipated showdown!” the raven-haired girl called out, her theatrics now in full swing.

“On this side of the mat, the product of several centuries of determined and meticulous breeding to get the biggest, baddest tits imaginable,” Tracey continued, smirking at the annoyed groans her bombastic introduction was elicing from the girl in question. She really was a natural at this.

“I give you our very own aristocrat, lady Daphne!”

I watched Daphne sigh very deliberately and shoot her friend a glare that promised future retribution, before slowly rising up from her seat. As befitting the eldest daughter of an earl, her posture was tall, proud and confident, and I decided to follow Tracey’s instructions, drinking in the blonde’s statuesque figure. The most prominent features were of course the two large, round mounds straining against her snug t-shirt, but as I moved my eyes further down, I had to admit the rest was pretty damn nice, too. I took my time enjoying the platinum blonde -haired girl’s outline, how her expansive chest gave way to a fairly narrow waistline, then flaring out again to accommodate a full, supple ass and a pair of long and reasonably sculpted-looking legs. While Daphne wasn’t a total knockout like my girlfriend, all that ‘breeding’ had definitely paid off.

The tall, regal-looking second-year sauntered forth with measured steps, blowing a kiss at the audience and smirking at the ensuing whistles and catcalls. Her flimsy white top clung to the blonde’s hard nipples, and I heard myself making a small grunt as she unceremoniously pulled the garment up and over her massive pair. Daphne’s mammaries tumbled out with a pronounced thud, jiggling deliciously as the substantial mass of flesh took a moment to settle down. While I knew the tissue inside to be quite thick, having seen them give even Fleur’s perfect boobs plenty of trouble just like Daphne’d said, the sheer weight and volume of the blonde’s huge jugs caused them to appear just a bit wobbly. They had a somewhat pendulous shape, too, but befitting their impressive density, didn’t droop nearly as much as you might’ve expected.

Loud, enthusiastic cheers signalled the audience’s approval of Daphne’s assets. I saw that her boyfriend Theo’s eyes were glued to the two huge, meaty orbs, the second-year appearing enthralled by the sight. I could relate.

“And in the other corner, equipped with an equally oversized set of chest-melons,” a chorus of laughs rose up to Tracey’s jibe. “Representing the usurper class of capitalists and industrialists, who seek to discard the age-old nobility into the trash heap of history,” the black-haired student continued to paint the picture. “Is the school’s rich kid – and well-known big boob bully – Pansy!”

The second contestant hopped to her feet eagerly, winking at their grandiose announcer and flashing the other blonde a shrewd grin. Her body was a bit more utilitarian than Daphne’s, and not particularly toned, but the girl still looked shapely enough. For a quick romp, at least. Any longer than that, and her brusque, pushy personality would come into play.

“Tracey’s sure got a way with words,” Pansy opined smugly as she stalked closer and began to remove her trademark dark green hoodie. “That’s precisely what I’ll be doing today: Pummeling your blue-blooded knockers with my stronger set ’til they’re black and blue, and taking your spot in the pecking order in the process.”

Daphne was currently the number 10 girl, I recalled, ranked just a couple positions above Pansy. But while they were at a very close distance to each other in the rankings, the difference in status was somewhat greater; in addition to its symbolic significance, a place in the coveted top ten also came with a few concrete perks. One of them was the fact that Daphne, unlike Pansy, had her own designated seat in the VIP row today, right next to the voluptuous redhead Susan.

“You’re certainly welcome to try, lowly commoner,” Daphne replied with a sneer, her voice exaggeratedly posh and haughty as she turned her regal mannerisms up to the max. No doubt to the benefit of the crowd, which seemed to find the blondes’ upper-class rivalry highly entertaining.

“Now let’s see those second-rate peasant udders,” Daphne demanded with a cool, dismissive wave of her hand. She seemed to have fallen into her role with remarkable ease, as the gesture looked very convincing. “I doubt they’ll win any prizes for aesthetics, but might suffice for your upcoming duties as a milkmaid.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes a bit, her expression simultaneously both irked and amused. She gave a small nod of awknowledgement and reached behind her, pushing her hands up the back of her tank top to unclasp her bra. I watched as the second-year deftly slid the sturdy piece of lingerie off, and grinned as she flung it at Daphne. The sudden, juvenile gesture caught the other blonde off guard, and Pansy’s heavy-duty brassiere found its mark, landing right on Daphne’s head as the aristocratic girl spluttered in objection and surprise. The audience of course rewarded Pansy’s showomanship and impressive aim with roaring laughter, the now red-faced noblewoman picking up her rival’s large brassiere with two fingers and casting it aside with a disgusted huff.

“I’ve already got enough of those, thank you very much,” Daphne grimaced. “In pretty much the exact same size.”

As I glanced back towards Pansy, I could see that her big jugs seemed to hang a bit inside the shirt, but they looked thick and heavy as well, and matched up reasonably well with Daphne’s. With a cocky wink, the less-regal of the blondes began to peel off her top, doing it slowly enough to ensure that all eyes were on her. We watched Pansy’s huge, pale breasts roll out of the tank top in a wave of nubile, freely-shaking titflesh, and I felt my mouth water.

The girl’s top-end Double D jugs were a good match for Daphne’s, sitting maybe a bit lower, but looking dense and obviously having plenty of heft. Their shape seemed slightly less rounded, with a tad more perceptible sag and some stretch marks, but I’d seen the blonde flatten enough girls with them to know that they were very, very potent. Even though she hadn’t faced Fleur in these competitions so far, I could picture those massive udders putting up quite a fight.

The crowd cheered loudly, everyone excited to see the two famously top-heavy Year 2 blondes meet tit-to-tit. In fact, there was only one student in the entire school who could claim to have a bigger bust than them. I glanced briefly toward Susan, noting her look of concentration as she studied the contestants. She was ranked eighth at the moment, having bested the Chinese hottie Cho’s tightly-packed C-cups in the beginning of November, and had fought – and flattened – Pansy’s hefty knockers a few weeks before Christmas. I guessed she was curious to see whether Daphne would be able to defend her position in the top ten against the big-bosomed bully.

Back on the mat, I saw Daphne cup her ample tits gently and give them a quick jostle as she looked at Pansy. The room had gone silent as the blondes prepared to tangle, our eyes observing intently how each second-year smirked at the other as they stepped forward in perfect synchronization. Daphne and Pansy’s large, weighty boobs jiggled on their chests sexily, and I leaned back to get more confortable as the girls brought their teats together slowly.

Two grunts were clearly audible in the quiet gymnasium, the two chesty blondes shoving their massive mammaries forward. Both pairs of thick, heavy-looking breasts compressed, flattening gently at the point of contact.

Daphne shoved harder, and for a moment, I could see Pansy’s boobs getting pushed backwards, the Ice Queen’s large tits pressing Pansy’s rack inwards a bit. Pansy grunted, but pushed back, shifting her legs beneath her to force more and more of her pendulous tits against Daphne’s jugs. The regal blonde’s dense, hefty rack compressed dutifully, yielding some terrain to the rivaling set of teats – but maybe not quite as much as Pansy’s just had? It appeared to me as if Daphne’s full, meaty mammaries might be maintaining their pleasantly rounded shape a tad better. Smirking, Daphne pushed forward, this time pressing Pansy’s pale, plentiful flesh back until the she’d managed to force their ample bosoms back to their original contact position.

“Hmh, gotta give it to you, Daffy,” Pansy said with a gruff smile as the girls slowly increased the pressure between their young, expansive racks. “Those are actually pretty nice tits.”

“For an inbred cousin-fucker, that is.”

I saw Daphne’s expression harden a bit, but her lips soon curled into a mirroring smirk. “Mind your place, peasant. My boobs eat weak servant-girl racks like yours for breakfast. They’re quite firm for their size, which is more than I can say about those wobbly udders,” Daphne grinned as she gently shoved her big, solid boobs to the right. The move succeeded in pushing Pansy’s wiggling teats to the side, and the blonde bully muttered something under her breath, falling silent as the close-quarters action resumed.

Their substantial mammaries remained in constant contact as the two fighters began increasing the pace of their movements. While Pansy managed a few good shoves, causing her rival’s mighty teats to reshape against her own, Daphne’s big and supple boobs did seem to be holding up a bit better in the grinding contest. The scene reminded my of Pansy’s earlier match against Susan’s even more massive set, where the redhead’s impressive tissue density had proved too much for the second-year to contain.

On the mat, Pansy had a stony look in her eyes, her focus apparent as she moved her back and hips in a steady rhythm. I watched the blonde work hard to grind her large, weighty teats into her opponents’ similarly-sized breasts, trying to force them back into Daphne’s chest. At times, the young noblewoman’s boobs seemed to oblige, bulging and shifting out to the sides before molding back to their original shape, but more often it was Pansy’s slightly more pliable and pendulous-looking rack that gave up valuable territory between them. To that point in the fight, though, Pansy’s boobs sprang back to their usual, ample form with elastic boyancy when the pressure was lifted, and her rival’s apparent lead in density seemed relatively minor.

I found myself idly wondering why the blondes weren’t making more use of slams and blows like usual, and instead stuck mostly to close grinding and short jabs. Then again, I realized that with both huge sets being almost identical in size, there was likely little advantage for either in starting a slug-fest. And since both sets were so big and heavy, any brawl featuring lots of powerful rams and wild haymakers would be liable to get very painful very quickly, for both parties involved.

I could see Daphne observing the contest between their bosoms with a faint smile, evidently pleased with the visual comparison. She grunted as she shoved harder, rolling her back and shoulders to force as much of her expansive bosom against Pansy’s as possible. Daphne’s big jugs seemed to make some headway, but suddenly came to a stop when she tried to push further in, her fairly solid teats meeting the meaty core of Pansy’s breasts and starting to spread out in response. I saw Pansy wince as she felt Daphne’s big boobs struggling against her own, but she stubbornly ground back, pitting the full resilience of her supple, young titflesh against the aristocratic girl’s set. The crowd was still deathly quiet as the two blondes tested their massive chests against one another. The only sounds were the muted noises of the girls’ boobs compressing and twisting against each other. Every so often, a nipple, visibly hard and erect, would pop out or on top of the opposing set of breasts, before shortly disappearing back into the warring mass of mammary glands before them. I wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it, but it seemed like the pressure from Pansy’s set might be slowly waning as the more regal blonde pushed forward, and I could hear Pansy grunt as more and more of her big, pendulous jugs were pushed in, the girl’s ample but somewhat pliant flesh spilling further out to the sides. Feeling a bit surprised that the fight appeared to be coming to a close already, I leaned forward, ready to take in Daphne’s victory over the stacked blonde bully.

I was apparently not the only one taken aback by Pansy’s sudden move as she grabbed Daphne’s shoulders and shoved, forcing the statuesque girl back, her large, meaty breasts bouncing on her chest. Daphne looked startled, but not as stunned as when Pansy’s wicked haymaker from the left connected. Pansy again surprised me with the speed and force of the brutal blow, and the resounding smack of tit-on-tit made the entire room suck in an instinctive gasp. Daphne’s puffy nipples looked as though they were dancing as her tits were flung to the side from the force of impact, settling just in time for the aggressive blonde to slam forward. Pansy landed a direct hit that reshaped both pairs visibly, but it looked like the tit-ram was more damaging to the rack receiving it. Daphne’s jiggling breast-tissue compressed, spreading outward before Pansy pulled away. The noblewoman’s head shook as she tried to regain her focus, but she was almost immediately rewarded with another solid, swinging blow. I admired the way Pansy’s large, heavy teats swung outward, pulling away from her chest as the blonde’s distended left breast slammed into its counterpart, smacking against Daphne’s exposed right boob. The two massive breasts molded against each other, wobbling mightily, and Pansy quickly followed through, grinding her suddenly assertive rack over Daphne’s ample, quivering breasts.

Daphne groaned as she felt Pansy try to pull her meaty tits through the aristocrat’s own rack, the latter girl ensuring that her weighty breasts were on top to add pressure to the already reddening flesh of her rival. Pansy, obviously goaded by her success in this new, more violent type of engagement, swung as soon as her tits had cleared Daphne’s still-jiggling boobs. I watched the blonde bully drag her jugs off to the side, and Daphne quickly swung her own rack at them. The two busty blondes swinging their heavy teats together created an explosive crack throughout the room, and elicited another collective intake of breath from the audience. Daphne’s counter-swing seemed to surprise Pansy, and the blonde bully staggered a bit, giving an opening to the other girl. Daphne used it right away, slamming forward and smashing her big boobs against Pansy’s teats. Both sets of large, pendulous breasts shifted and jiggled at the impact, and both second-years pulled back, eyeing each other with similarly venomous looks. Daphne threw a sudden, weak swing, and Pansy jumped back.

“What’s the matter, Pansy? You scared of my big, firm boobs?” Daphne asked, the taunt barely leaving her lips when Pansy jumped forward again, slamming a huge blow into Daphne’s stationary breasts. The aristocratic girl’s huge rack shook wildly, undulating as Pansy pulled back. The aggressive blonde swung her weighty teats from below, and that uppercut seemed to connect dead-on with the tender undersides of her opponent’s big, jiggling boobs. Pansy moved to the left next, swinging her teat, and while Daphne began to backpedal, the front of the aggressive girl’s right, pendulous breast, extending from the force of the swing, impacted against the side of Daphne’s left mammary, displacing the blonde’s boob for just a moment. Both second-years moaned at the painful sensation of feeling their young, supple boobs splash out so violently, and both stopped in their tracks, the girls’ hands holding their stunned, likely stinging tits in shock.

Both women certainly seemed to have good reason to feel a bit tender. Each pair of massive boobs had turned bright red, and their nipples looked exceedingly hard. I could only assume that those turgid tips had done some additional damage as the blondes were slamming their big tits together, and it appeared that neither contestant was in a hurry to get back into the fight.

“How’re those prize-sow udders feeling now, Daffy?” Pansy jeered, caressing her own, sore breasts carefully in her palms as she tried to massage some of the the ache away. “Have my big, strong commoner tits been too mean to them?” she asked in a loud, unfriendly drawl. “Maybe you’d like to throw in the towel now, and submit to your betters?”

“Pfft, betters my ass,” the haughty blonde snorted as she, too, started kneading her jugs gingerly. “There aren’t many girls with better boobs than mine here, and yours definitely don’t make the cut. I’m going to pound you flat, bitch.”

“Not with those floppy fat-sacks you’re not,” Pansy laughed, glancing over her shoulder towards the top girls’ row. “It’s a wonder you managed to slug it out with Lav-Lav over there, and fought her bouncy little boobs to a stalemate. I might need to have my own go at her at some point, given how little punch they apparently pack.”

“Oh, please do. I’d love to see her feed your soft, saggy tits to you,” Daphne snapped. “She’d pummel those things to a pulp. Just like I’m going to.”

“Bring it, then.”

They both took a step towards their rival, releasing their large, pendulous boobs and allowing the tenderized flesh to shake on their chests. As their breasts came within a few inches of each other, almost touching, I watched Daphne begin to move forward, seemingly to lightly push her boobs against Pansy’s, as she’d done in the early portions of the match. Pansy, though, immediately shifted left, her feet sliding over, and launched an attack from the side. The aristocratic girl groaned as her opponent’s hefty right jug collided with her left breast. Daphne didn’t waste any time in responding, flinging a counter slam with her readied breasts, sending her left teat into Pansy’s left breast as she twisted her hip. Pansy’s big, meaty mammary, hammered by Daphne’s strike, flew away from the center of her chest before bouncing back to mirror her other jiggling orb.

Daphne pressed her sudden advantage, this time grabbing the aggressive blonde by the shoulders and slamming forward, smashing her massive boobs into Pansy’s now-trapped breasts. Pansy’s huge, pendulous teats obliged Daphne by shaking violently, bending away from the incoming pair of jugs while Daphne ample rack invaded their space. I heard Pansy’s deep, pained groan as she felt the violent blow push her tits inward, and the girl shoved against Daphne’s hips suddenly, forcing the regal second-year to release her grip.

“Can’t handle a set of genuine purebred boobs, huh?” Daphne sneered, pulling forward again. Pansy stopped her tit-ram by slapping her udders from the side in a wicked haymaker that slammed Daphne’s left mammary into her right, creating a loud, wet slap of flesh. When they pulled away, you could see that their tits were covered in sweat, and appeared to be reddening even further. I shuddered to think of the bruises that both girls would sport the next morning, but kept my eyes locked between them.

The two busty blondes slammed into each other again, both apparently with the same idea, and this time it was Pansy who wrapped Daphne in a hug.

“Gotcha!” Pansy gasped triumphantly. Daphne’s groan indicated that the description was accurate, as the blonde bully’s large breasts seemed to be burrowing into the undersides of the young noblewoman’s pair, forcing her softened mammaries up and causing them to push in noticeably at the bottom. Daphne’s huge, meaty breasts rested atop Pansy’s equally big knockers as the latter began shifting her hips violently, bouncing Daphne’s ample flesh atop her own.

My imagination was busy conjuring images of Daphne’s loose, beaten udders hanging down beneath her as she suckled on Pansy’s dominant breasts in front of the crowd, mumbling her admission of inferiority and defeat around the blondy bully’s thick, engorged nipples, and struggled to stop myself from rubbing my crotch. Pansy seemed to have much the same idea, continuing to grind her big jugs against Daphne’s from below. The young noblewoman’s beleaguered tits shook and wobbled, and I wondered how much longer Daphne and her breasts would be able to hold on before succumbing to the assault.

Daphne seemed to answer my unvoiced question, sliding her left foot back, and I heard Pansy grunt as Daphne’s weighty boobs began to provide more pressure. Now both sets of tits were quivering forcefully, and each pair flattened visibly; Daphne’s from the bottom, and Pansy’s from the top. Taking advantage of her rival’s momentary distraction, Daphne continued pulling back and wrapped her arms around Pansy to hold herself up as she tried to drag her large, dense tits over and through the other blonde’s wildly undulating rack.

The girls’ struggle for position continued for some time, as Pansy attempted to slide her tits further into and under Daphne’s breasts, and Daphne sought to pull hers down. Eventually, both glistening pairs of breasts slid and slipped apart, meeting in the middle. I licked my lips, watching how each massive bust tried to assert its dominance. Both pairs of breasts seemed looser, flowing rather than scraping across the other set, and the hint of nipple atop one pair, then the other, seemed to confirm the severe damage sustained by each rack.

After a long while of pushing, pulling and grinding, the action pitting the blondes’ huge, heavy and by now deliciously sweaty teats against one another in a very intimate, almost sensuous way, I noticed Daphne’s breasts slip under Pansy’s pair. The aristocratic girl let out a vengeful hiss, returning the favour with gusto. I watched Daphne clinch the hug and begin to pump her big but visibly weakened set into Pansy’s fast-loosening udders. The trapped blonde’s nipples pointed up, and she cursed and moaned as she felt her rack get pushed up, Daphne’s mammaries pushing into hers and displacing more and more of their softened, pliable flesh.

The statuesque noblewoman grinned and pulled her groaning opponent in even tighter, seeming to revel in the other girl’s pained moans. I saw Pansy’s eyes close against the intense discomfort as she felt her massive, battle-worn chest compress severely. Daphne tightened her hold once again, this time actually leaning back a bit to force her tits further into the blonde bully’s sore udders, increasing the pressure and straining both sets to critical mass. In stunned amazement, I watched how the resistance in Pansy’s breasts seemed to break at once, the thick inner tissue in her massive mammaries reaching its limit and suddenly melting against Daphne’s sturdier, dominant flesh. Pansy’s large, heavy jugs simply caved in, surrendering to the blue-blooded girl’s now obviously superior pair.

“Aaaauuugghhh,” Pansy wailed as she felt her boobs pancake against her opponent’s less malleable pair. I could see how the blonde’s once imposing teats drooped around the tops of Daphne’s breasts, molding to the shape of their betters.

“Tap, tap!” Pansy moaned, her tits failing more and more as she wheezed out her submission. “Shit, Daphne, stop crushing my tits, I give!”

“You fucking squished them,” she groaned weakly, slowly looking up from her ruined set and regarding the aristocratic young woman with a dazed expression. “Your jugs just bulldozed mine flat.”

“Damn right they did. I told you they ate peasant tits like yours for breakfast, didn’t I?”

Daphne released her beaten rival with a wry grin, and I watched Pansy fall to her knees. The victorious girl’s own mammaries fell to her chest with a wobble, hanging noticeably and looking tender and bruised. It was a visible reminder of the brutal match they’d endured. Most pairs, I knew, would’ve looked even worse though, Daphne’s substantial mass and volume doing a lot to help absorb the damage.

As the statuesque noblewoman began to help Pansy up, the loser surprised me – and apparently Daphne, too – by capturing the winner’s left nipple into her mouth. Letting out a pleased hiss, Daphne stood motionless and allowed Pansy to immediately go to work, the once aggressive blonde paying homage to her conqueror’s pair with some considerable bravado. Despite winning most of her fights, Pansy had obviously learned her way around a breast, since she had Daphne moaning after only a few seconds. I watched the aristocratic girl’s big and hefty boobs, no doubt sore, respond with hardened nipples as Pansy switched from one teat to the other. After a minute or so, Daphne – now breathing fairly heavily, I noticed – finally patted Pansy’s shoulder, signalling for her rival to stand up. Her face was flushed, and her substantial, reddened chest heaved with each intake of air.

“You okay there, Daph?” Pansy smirked, looking rather smug as she gave the panting, clearly aroused girl a knowing look.

“Just ’cause I don’t eat pussy, doesn’t mean I can’t work a tit. I bet I could’ve made you cum if I’d kept going a bit longer.”

Daphne grunted, closing her eyes and nodding slightly as she took a moment to compose herself. “Oh yeah, you would’ve,” she admitted, still sounding a little breathless. As the young noblewoman’s eyes opened again, however, she met Pansy’s gaze confidently. “I think we’ll make a proper muff-muncher out of you yet.”

“When you’re ready for a rematch, just say the word. The loser goes down on the winner.”

“Oh fuck y-“

Daphne cut off her rival’s objection by shoving her jugs forward, her thick, high-born mammaries once again displacing the other girl’s overmatched flesh. Pansy groaned at the sensation, and watched in demure silence as her pair yielded its position, molding around Daphne’s dominant jugs freely and even flowing out a bit to caress their sides. The aristocratic girl quite literally rubbed in her victory for a few moments, but was relatively gentle with Pansy’s loose, malleable teats, pushing in only enough that everyone could see their decisive surrender.

I couldn’t help but admire how Pansy’s huge, soft udders flattened, continuing to displace and fold around the winning breasts while Daphne’s similarly-sized boobs kept their shape after a certain point, remaining relatively full and rounded even as the other blonde’s vanquished flesh bent and melted against them.

“Aaaand the clear winner is… Daphne!” I heard Tracey shout, the raven-haired girl not bothering to hide her joy over her friend’s pretty convincing win. “Looks like superior breeding does breed superior breasts!”

Some laughs and a round of applause went up, complete with several overlapping shouts, yells and whistles as many students either congratulated the statuesque noblewoman or taunted the loser. As Tracey had mentioned in her intro, Pansy was a known bully, and frequently used her massive rack to harass and intimidate other, less well-endowed female students. They were also her primary weapon when it came to attracting guys, I knew, the girl not being a great beauty or having been blessed with a charming personality. Based on her steady flow of short-term boyfriends, there was still plenty of demand for big tits.

It was just too bad for Pansy that Daphne’s jugs not only matched hers in size, but had shown themselves to be firmer and more powerful to boot.

I watched the victorious second-year strut off to get her bra and top from Tracey, who hugged the still-topless girl from the side, careful to avoid touching her friend’s undeniably tender-looking pair. They were joined by Daphne’s younger sister Astoria, who after brief hesitation settled for clapping the winner on the back, looking a bit awkward. While I didn’t have any siblings myself, I could certainly understand the sentiment.

“I think Gabrielle would’ve wanted to go against her,” Hermione murmured from beside me, causing me to glance at her. Having concentrated so intently on the fight, I’d almost forgotten the brainy brunette was there.

“Huh?” I asked, very eloquently.

“Astoria,” she clarified with a smile, nudging her head in the girl’s direction. “She’s the highest-ranking firsty, I believe, after Ginny, Susan and Lavender, who are off limits. But after that beating Cho gave her, not to mention the public humiliation that followed, it seems Astoria’s a bit put off from taking part in any more matches,” Hermione explained, biting her lip gently. “At least for the time being.”

“And honestly, I can’t say I blame her. Cho’s quite talented at being an utter asshole,” the brunette said in a huff, making a face. I recalled the Asian’s earlier incident with Luna, which Hermione and Ginny had ultimately resolved in the usual way, and couldn’t bring myself to disagree.

“Speaking of Cho…”

I followed Hermione’s gaze and noticed that the sporty Chinese girl had also made her way to talk with Daphne, only based on body language, she wasn’t there to offer her congratulations. I couldn’t make out what they were saying because of the general commotion, but the fact that I could hear their voices at all suggested that the volume was set to pretty high. With a snide smirk, the Asian hottie turned around and stalked off, her thicker-figured sidekick Marietta grinning as she followed in tow.

“She’s definitely up to something,” Hermione opined, her face scrunching cutely as the resident bookworm tried to figure out the details as if solving a puzzle. And in a way she was. This constant catty scheming always made me glad I wasn’t born a female. I saw Hermione’s eyes widen a bit, and quickly looked back towards the duo. Cho and Marietta were now chatting animatedly with none other than ex-champ Lavender, the fluffy blonde bimbo who was responsible for my girlfriend’s first – and so far only – titfighting loss here at the Academy.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall…” the brunette mused quietly. “Those two have been thick as thieves ever since since Ginny speared Lav-Lav’s big, fat boobs and took the crown from her. But I guess common enemies do tend to help people get along.”

I nodded, remembering how Cho had apparently even helped the blonde firsty prepare for the championship tournament right before Christmas, giving Lavender pointers and probably assisting with the actual strategy, too. I could certainly see the lithe, athletic Asian having had an influence on Lavender’s surprisingly mobile approach to counter Angelina’s raw strength and size: Last Spring, almost a year ago, Cho had done reasonably well in her own match against the buff ebony girl, relying on her superior agility and employing constant hit-and-run tactics to weaken her opponent and to avoid getting pummeled by Angelina’s larger, impressively firm globes. In the end, her tight little tits hadn’t been able to tame the black girl’s pair, but the concept itself seemed to be sound. As evidenced by Lavender’s somewhat greater success.

Letting my gaze drift around the audience for a moment, another trio caught my eye. My girlfriend Fleur and the current number two Ginny were crouched beside Gabrielle, and appeared to be giving the stunningly pretty girl a few last words of encouragement before her debut match.

I already knew it was going to be good.

*~*~*

The short five-minute break was soon over, and I watched Tracey make her way onto the stage again. According to what Hermione had told me, today’s debutantes would both be facing someone from their own Year, and given the fact that everyone was expected to clear their path up the food chain without any shortcuts, they could only pick an opponent outside of the top ten. This was hardly surprising, since I knew that a degree of protection from lower-ranked challengers was an essential perk in belonging to that prestigious club. Normally, you’d need to forfeit the match – and drop down a rank – if you refused a challenge, but in order to keep the number of fights those top girls had to take part in at least somewhat reasonable, some limits were necessary. If I recalled correctly, the ‘elite’ only had to accept challenges from those within ten (or maybe just five?) positions of themselves. They were the cream of the crop, after all, and taking them on wasn’t a right – it was a priviledge you had to earn.

In any case, even with those limitations in place, both newcomers still had a fairly broad selection of busty babes to choose from. The school was blessed, what could I say.

“Ordaaaaaahhh!” Tracey bellowed, the raven-haired girl appearing to channel a certain rather famously vocal Speaker of the House. Her efforts proved effective, having almost immediate results as everyone turned to grin at her. The second-year regarded her audience for a second, nodding in mock-solemn approval.

“Thank you, honourable members.”

“Now, our next two contestants aren’t quite as overly stacked as the previous pair of boob-gladiators…” Tracey started out with a grin. “But fear not, I’m sure they’ll put on a good show anyway – especially if the debutante’s elder sibling is any indication.”

“But first, welcoming the newest addition to Year One, blessed with a nice, firm set of deliciously juicy sweatermeat,” the announcer pitched … “Is the first-years’ renowned Giant-Slayer, Romilda!”

The crowd cheered as a tanned brunette with long and curly, almost black hair strutted onto the mat, giving everyone a confident wave. She was obviously undaunted by having several hundred students’ eyes on her, and if anything, seemed to enjoy the attention, posing for the audience with a pleased, surprisingly bold grin on her face. The dark-haired girl gave the audience its money’s worth, peeling off her black-and-white top in one slow, fluid motion. That move revealed the girl’s slim, toned torso, and left her wearing just a lacy maroon balconette bra and a pair of dark slacks. The slacks clung to her thighs closely enough to confirm that she had a nice overall figure; tall and reasonably slender, yet also shapely. Her bust appeared to be of medium size, and was obviously quite dense just as Tracey had advertised, but I knew we’d get an even better eyeful of that soon. All in all, I had to concede as I watched the brunette strike a decidedly racy, seductive pose, Romilda was a pretty good-looking girl.

I’d learned from my girlfriend that Romilda’s nickname came from her victory over a chesty third-year Millie – actually Millicent, but no-one called her that – in one of the non-public matches of the Autumn’s initiation tournament. Millie was big girl both in the sense that she had a bulky, square build that towered over her opponents, and in that her Double D rack belonged solidly in the heavyweight category. Though having seen them myself on multiple occasions, I knew that the word ‘heavy’ was much more relevant than ‘solid’ here; Millie’s large, fat udders didn’t fall far behind Daphne or Pansy’s in weight and volume, but they looked softer and more wobbly, and sagged noticeably. If it wasn’t for their considerable heft, I doubted the girl would’ve made much of a titfighter.

Wrestler, certainly. With her general physique, it was no wonder Millie was often called ‘the ogre’ behind her back. She wasn’t quite fat like her older cousin Bertha had been, rather burly and robust, but certainly no beauty queen. And when it came to those heavy hangers, size and mass were pretty much the only things she had in her favour. I’d seen the hulking third-year bury many smaller pairs with them, often targeting beginners and lower-ranked older students and bashing their firm, more attractive-looking boobs flat with her saggier teats, but against the better fighters who knew how to combat her type, she’d tended to fare less well.

Apparently Romilda was one of them.

Just as I was proceeding to ponder how adept she might be at countering firmer tits, Tracey cleared her voice and gestured the attention-loving girl to settle down. Romilda gave her a playful, disappointed pout, but complied with the request, reluctantly wrapping up her one-girl posing show.

“Facing Romilda’s impressive giant-slaying tits in her very first match here at the Academy, is someone with big shoes to fill, and a lot to prove,” Tracey continued, her gaze meeting Fleur’s for a short moment as she flashed my girlfriend a grin.

“Coming to us from not just the same country, but the same family that gave us our Beloved Leader and Boob Queen, is a girl whose mesmerizing beauty will surely result in a great many broken hearts…”

“And if she’s anything like her sister, I suspect her bust may well leave an equally long trail of tamed, beaten breasts in its wake, too!” Tracey added with a wink, eliciting some laughs, though I noticed that many of the females weren’t too amused.

“I give you, the dangerously stunning, Gabrielle!”

The French girl received a thunderous wave of applause, cheering and outright appreciative whistles as the crowd greeted Gabrielle as it would a famous movie star. The blonde smiled bashfully, looking simultaneously both innocent and adorable, and distractingly gorgeous as she gracefully made her way towards the mat, following Romilda’s example and discarding her blouse off to the side.

Clad in her dark blue denim shorts and a thin, cream-coloured bralette, the crowd devoured the girl’s lean, smooth and frankly divinely well-formed legs, resting its eyes on her sensuous hips and flawless, round bum for a moment before taking in that diminutive waist and finally settling on her high, distinctly pert bust. Through the flimsy, almost transparent fabric, you could easily tell the blonde’s youthful orbs were very solid, and sat perfectly on her chest. Under any other circumstances, the girl’s face would’ve been an afterthought. But in this case, it was just the crown that completed the package, the French girl’s expressive eyes and perfect, alluring smile causing me to feel like my heart had skipped a beat. Whereas Romilda could be described as ‘pretty’, Gabrielle looked quite simply breathtaking.

Despite having of course known who she’d be facing, the curly-haired brunette seemed a bit miffed over the difference in the crowd’s reaction. Her opponent was making her debut, yes, but that didn’t go nearly all the way in explaining it. As I compared the two young women, I noticed that Romilda was of a bit taller stature and maybe slightly thinner than Gabrielle, who not only looked more shapely, but also had some baby fat in her face and other strategic areas, enhancing her already pronounced cuteness and delectable hour-glass figure. Both girls were quite lean and toned, but the blonde looked undeniably more fertile. She was the picture of girly, feminine perfection.

“You know, Ginny seems to think Gabby’s butt is even better than Fleur’s,” Hermione whispered, leaning towards me. “Which had me wondering… might you be inclined to agree?”

I stammered, peering at the brainy second-year and feeling my face redden as I blinked slowly. Hermione appeared to enjoy my squirming, and her lips, rosy-red and puffy from constant biting, curled into a devious grin.

“Come to think of it… how would you rate mine in relation to those two?” she murmured, lowering her head against my shoulder gently and letting out a low hum, almost sounding like a purr. “Is my bum as nice and sexy as theirs? And my legs, how do they compare to Fleur’s? Too close to call? Maybe you’d like to cop a feel to decide? Go ahead, Ced,” she smirked, gently touching my wrist as she started to slowly move my hand toward her lusciously thick thigh. “I won’t mind.”

Just as I thought she was actually going to go through with her ‘threat’, Hermione burst into giggles and released my captive, suddenly very clammy hand.

“Oh Ced, you really should see your face,” the flirtatious bookworm snickered, looking all too pleased with herself. I was mercifully spared from further teasing and embarrassment by Tracey’s loud, carrying voice.

“Okay ladies, let’s give the audience something to really gawk at. You may release the hounds!” the raven-haired girl exclaimed, her tone grandiose and commanding. Both contestants complied without delay, reaching to grab their bras.

Gabrielle bunched her cute bralette in her hands as she slowly slid the hem above those two pert, exceedingly firm-looking breasts. Her nipples rose with the garment slightly, before suddenly sliding out, and I watched her boobs come free with a small but oh-so-delicious bounce as the hem could no longer contain them. I didn’t even try to mask my groan. They didn’t move much all all, the dense tissue waving just enough to convince everyone that the girl’s boobs were real. And to be honest, if it wasn’t for that subtle movement, a slight, minute jiggle that settled down almost instantly, it was easy to understand how you might mistake Gabrielle’s all-natural pair for one that’d been artificially enhanced. They were absolutely perfect.

The French girl, whose eyes had remained on her opponent the whole time, grinned. Romilda’s hands had stopped in mid-motion of removing her own, dark-red bra, and the girl was gaping at Gabrielle’s creamy, flawlessly shaped breasts in open-mouthed amazement. The blonde’s pert, beautiful breasts looked just as incredible as I remembered, appearing to contest the laws of physics, and completely flipping off gravity. They sat noticeably high on the girl’s chest, topped with cute, hardened nipples, and appeared to have an almost impossible combination of youthful, spry perkiness, and more sensuous, feminine form and fullness. They looked at once both very solid and highly lavish, even bountiful.

“Holy fuck.”

While I’m sure that the sentiment was shared by pretty much everyone in the room, it was the curly-haired firsty facing Gabrielle who actually uttered those words aloud. Romilda appeared to suddenly shake herself awake, looking a bit abashed over her audible admission of, well, awe. But she didn’t have any reason to be, really. Anyone could see that the 18-year-old French girl had just about the best-looking pair of tits in the world.

They weren’t as big as some, and almost one full cup size smaller than her sister’s legendary breasts. They also looked less pointy than Ginny’s more compact but insanely firm, slightly conical boobs. Having been closer to Gabby’s set before and gotten to ogle them from a point-blank range then, I could say with a considerable level of confidence that the blonde-haired hottie had a pair of mid-size Ds. They were ideally proportional to the rest of her body, neither eclipsing any of the other areas nor being overshadowed by them. Everything about Gabrielle was… just right.

With one last peek at the blonde’s glorious set, Romilda finally whipped off her own balconette bra. I watched with interest as two thick, meaty boobs sprang free, settling on her chest with a sexy jiggle. They had a very pleasing, full and rounded shape, not having much detectable sag and quivering rather enticingly on the girl’s torso. Their skin was somewhat darker than Gabrielle’s, which was likely not as much a result of tanning as it was of genetics, I thought, noting how Romilda’s dusky breasts were topped by nipples even darker than her flesh. I continued to drink in the vaguely exotic-looking brunette’s attractive bust until she cupped those two, big and supple boobs in her palms, gently caressing them, and watched as Gabrielle responded in kind, lightly tracing the undersides of her own, even perkier tits.

In terms of size, it looked like Romilda’s set might be a little bit smaller than her opponent’s, likely a lower-end D cup, roughly similar to Padma’s or Katie’s in size, or maybe just a hint bigger. The overall appearance of the brunette’s breasts was fairly comparable to those two as well, right down to skin tone, though I suspected she couldn’t quite match them in visible firmness. Not the Indian’s tightly-packed tits, at least. Romilda boobs looked ample, pleasant and honestly quite sexy, but they didn’t appear to be what I’d call rock-hard.

Her opponent’s pert breasts, by contrast, did. Every bit as dense as Padma’s, probably even more so.

Tracey let out a long whistle as she bent down to scrutinize Gabrielle’s big, flawlessly-shaped set up close, bringing her face to the level of their tips, which appeared to have already grown hard in the rather chilly gymnasium.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she muttered, shaking her head in bewildered astonishment. “Those are without a doubt the most… immaculate boobs I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Not even a single blemish!”

“And in case you were wondering, guys, no trace of scarring anywhere, either,” Tracey called out more loudly, turning to look at the crowd again, a slight grin playing on her lips. “I should know, given how many pairs dear ol’ daddy has worked on. I’ll be needing to send him a few photos of these naturally grown puppies later on. He’s gonna shit bricks.”

Gabrielle chuckled, a small, faint blush making its way onto her cheeks as the girl swayed in her place, apparently not entirely sure how to respond. Despite having her bare, spectacular tits out in the open, she managed to look almost criminally adorable. The audience rewarded Tracey’s close inspection and subsequent report with spontaneous applause, and I guess they were showing their own appreciation of the blonde’s marvellous, remarkably-shaped pair as well. Gabrielle’s breasts looked photogenic to say the least.

I heard someone clear her voice, and suddenly realized that it was my girlfriend. Fleur had a wry smile on her face, but was gesturing with her hand for Tracey to get a move-on, seeming somewhat impatient.

“Yes, yes, your majesty, keep your knickers on,” the raven-haired girl called out loudly, flashing a quick grin in Fleur’s direction. “Wouldn’t want anybody to think you’re getting jealous…”

“Well then, ladies,” she whirled back to address the two topless first-years in front of her. “Let’s get this show started. The mat is yours!”

Both girls returned her smile, the raven-haired second-year backing off as Romilda took a few steps towards the blonde. I watched her come to a halt with their nipples, visibly hardened from the cool air, hovering within an inch or two of each other. While Gabrielle seemed to be slightly shorter than the other, more tanned girl, her breasts sat so high on her chest, firm and proud, that the two busts met at almost exactly the same height. The brunette breathed in audibly, and I licked my lips, observing how Romilda’s ample, nicely rounded boobs appeared to rise and inflate as the girl filled her lungs with air. Gabrielle’s pair was of course still the larger of the two, but her opponent’s move did serve to close that already minor visual gap significantly.

Without further ceremony, Romilda steeled her jaw and shoved her tits into Gabrielle’s. With quite a bit more force than I’d anticipated. The room fell silent as both pairs of breasts displaced from the impact, the girls’ firm, youthful flesh pushing inward and gently spreading out to the sides. I could hear each of the fighters make a grunt as they felt their chest compress against the other’s dense, limber set, but one was perceptibly louder than the other.

And having kept my eyes firmly glued to their chests, I had no trouble telling why. Even though Gabrielle’s ever-so-slightly bigger orbs did flatten at the point of contact, shifting from the pressure as Romilda’s obviously quite thick breast-tissue pressed them back and forced the French girl’s tight titmeat to yield some ground, physical contact appeared to confirm my initial assessment: Gabrielle’s exquisite breasts did indeed hold the edge in density.

We could all see that Romilda’s boobs had lost more of their full and rounded shape, her darker flesh pushing in as it made way for the opposing set, and though I wasn’t sure just how much more ground they were giving up in absolute terms, the disparity in apparent firmness was undeniable.

“Oh crap,” Romilda whispered, her gaze flickering down to their straining bosoms as she took in the sight of her firm, young boobs yielding to the blonde’s even perkier set. She looked far less bold and cocky than earlier. A sly, impish smile had formed on Gabrielle’s lips, and the French girl began to hum quietly.

“Great tits, Rom,” she grinned at her curly-haired opponent.

“No, really, I mean it,” she added, noticing Romilda’s scowl as the darker girl appeared to take it as a veiled insult. “I’ve speared some girls’ boobs right on the spot, with the first shove, before. Yours are actually pretty solid.”

“Let’s see how well they hold up to some tenderizing.”

With that, the alluring blonde-haired girl began to roll her back slightly, grinding her chest against the brunette’s. I watched in growing arousal how Gabrielle’s pert, firm breasts seemed to burrow further into the the opposing titmeat, denting Romilda’s meaty tits as they struggled to resist the invasion. The lean, dusky-looking girl winced as she felt the focused pressure against her boobs, her two thick, supple teats springing back into their usual rounded shape once Gabrielle pulled away. For what looked like another attempt at piercing the brunette’s sexy jugs.

Gabrielle held still for a split second before slamming from the left, then sliding her gorgeous boobs over the brunette’s rack. I watched Gabrielle repeat the move, a slam, followed by another slide from the right. Each blow sent Romilda’s full, meaty tits shaking over her chest.

I watched how the blonde’s pert tits slammed into Romilda’s pair, causing the latter’s flesh to seem to wave outward, away from her chest. But Gabrielle didn’t let go, and while Romilda’s boobs regained much of their youthful, ample shape, the firmness wasn’t really a contest. Gabrielle’s perfect breasts were forcing significantly more of Romilda’s smaller, more pliant tits around. The curly-haired brunette groaned, but shoved back in return, trying to make headway against her opponent’s flawless pair. Gabrielle’s boobs did start pushing out slightly, compressing from their defined tips, but Romilda’s again gave noticeably more.

“I thought she did reasonably well against Lavender in one of their early practice matches,” Hermione mused beside me, obviously referring to the tanned, dark-haired contestant. “Of course, Lav-Lav’s freakishly good staying power won out in the end. The titmeat inside those fluffy bimbo-boobs is WAY more resilient than you’d guess from the surface,” she grumbled under her breath, chewing on her lip unconsciously. “But Romilda still managed to hold her off for a good while, and definitely caused Lav-Lav to get out of breath. Those boobs seem to have potential.”

Back on the mat, the girls were still busy bashing and grinding their opponent’s nubile young boobs with their own. I watched Gabrielle’s latest shove slam against the brunette’s sexy and pleasantly rounded set, the impact creating waves of thick, supple flesh that rolled across Romilda’s slim torso. The tall, dark-haired girl grunted, but continued to respond in kind, looking defiant. She clearly wasn’t going to just roll over and give up the fight, no matter how nice her rival’s pert, perfect boobs might’ve looked or felt. A determined expression adorning her face, Romilda thrust back, growling softly as she felt Gabrielle’s very firm tits compress against her own. Again, I saw the French girl’s orbs push the brunette’s flesh outward more, causing Romilda’s full boobs to displace noticeably, but despite their more pronounced jiggling and pliability, the tanned pair seemed to be continuing to hold Gabrielle’s set at bay, and caused at least some discomfort to the blonde as her own, exceedingly dense tits pushed in from the pressure as well.

The French hottie shoved forward in her turn, her pert orbs making Romilda’s boobs wobble deliciously, and I felt my mouth tighten as the brunette’s darker, slightly more compact jugs kept shivering for a moment before coming to rest on her chest. Gabrielle wiggled from left to right, forcing Romilda’s boobs to shift and shimmy before the blonde withdrew, the tanned flesh again jiggling in a very pleasant, sexy manner.

“Mmm, those bouncy little titties feel just as juicy as they look,” Gabrielle cooed, grinning saucily at her rival. “You know, Rom, if you surrender now, I’ll promise to give them a nice, good lick in the changing room. You can suckle on mine if you want, too.” The French girl offered huskily, giving the brunette a suggestive smile and looking like she meant it. I didn’t know about Romilda, but to me, the deal sounded very, very tempting.

“How ’bout I flatten your puffed-up bitch-tits, and then you eat me out?” the curly-haired brunette shot back. “Right here, while everyone watches.”

She had a tad annoyed expression on her face, the bold, confident girl clearly resenting her opponent’s dismissiveness, but I noticed that her dark, stiff nipples were swollen and standing at full attention. She was likely every bit as turned on as I was.

Gabrielle raised an inquisive eyebrow as she began pulling away, and I watched Romilda suddenly swing her slender torso from her left, forcing her right breast into Gabrielle’s counterpart. The blonde hottie groaned as the slam connected, their firm, youthful breasts mashing against one another. I couldn’t see Gabrielle’s tits displace too much from the blow, but they certainly moved more than I’d seen in the fight to that point. Seemingly encouraged by the increasing fluidity of her rival’s perfect breasts, Romilda pulled to the left again. Gabrielle pulled up, but a bit too quickly, as Romilda was able to aim more accurately, plastering the French girl’s very solid tits with her own, dense pair. A moist, meaty smack thudded against the walls of the room and Gabrielle grimaced.

“Ouch,” the modelesque blonde hissed in complaint, glancing at their quivering racks briefly before looking up at her opponent again, her eyes narrowing. “You should’ve said you liked eating pussy. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Romilda responded with action instead of words, thrusting forward quickly to keep the blonde hottie off balance and then swinging again from the right. Gabrielle tried to anticipate her blows, but ended up moving directly into the path of Romilda’s rather solid boobs. Another loud smack announced the contact as Gabrielle’s left breast was hammered by Romilda’s blow, compressing a bit before it rebounded back into its usual, pert shape. Romilda winced, but I heard Gabrielle actually groan. The French girl reached for Romilda’s shoulders, but the brunette ducked, and well before her own, thick and meaty jugs had stopped shaking, shot upward. The move sent her nice, full breasts into the undersides of Gabrielle’s flawlessly formed boobs, and I watched those beautiful, firm orbs reshape for a moment even as the impact forced Romilda’s supple jugs downward, flattening somewhat more obviously at the top. Still, the frustrated grimace on Gabrielle’s face revealed that she’d not enjoyed the sensation at all, clearly unused to feeling her breasts make way for another pair. As Romilda pulled away, no doubt eager to continue her assault, I saw Gabrielle thrust forward.

Her still very firm-looking boobs met Romilda’s in a textbook-perfect ram, forcing a yelp out of the slim brunette as her cute, supple teats were once again displaced by the harder pair, Gabrielle’s prodigious firmness pressing the other girl’s dense but visibly outmatched flesh backwards.

“Ssshhhitt,” the dark-haired firsty cursed, a slight wheeze in her tone. Unlike her breasts, however, she didn’t back down an inch. I watched Romilda retaliate immediately, shoving her big, ample boobs into the blonde’s with as much force as she could generate. Predictably, Romilda’s full tits shifted more, losing their usual sexy shape as they flattened against the opposing set, but Gabrielle’s pert breasts seemed to compress as well, the tightly-packed titmeat getting pushed in by the force – and by her opponent’s undeniably thick breast-tissue. The blonde’s large azure eyes tightened as she pushed back. I stared in growing arousal how both girls shoved into each other, forcing their firm, nubile flesh back and forth in gentle waves that slowly progressed. Gabrielle’s eyes flickered from Romilda’s face down to the battling busts between them, while the tall, tanned brunette, I noticed, kept her gaze on Gabrielle, watching the modelesque blonde’s every move.

Romilda’s slid her tits up and over Gabrielle’s, apparently trying to use their heft to grind at the French girl’s slightly bigger and noticeably firmer orbs from above, while Gabrielle was focused on simply driving her pert tits further into the brunette’s thick boobs. The fighters’ sweat caused the barest fleshy sounds to begin emerging from their bodies. Just when I was starting to doubt whether Gabrielle would win after all, the curly-haired first-year having proved a far more plucky adversary than I’d anticipated, I saw Romilda reach up to Gabrielle’s shoulders, trying to push away.

The blonde was quick to block her rival’s attempt to disengage, though, wrapping her own slender arms around Romilda for a hug, and redoubling her efforts to drive those two firm, gorgeous boobs further into the brunette’s fleshy tits.

“Unnnhh,” I heard Romilda’s dismayed groan as her escape was prevented, and peered down to watch the girl’s meaty, round breasts billow out more and more obviously as Gabrielle’s firmer, perkier and very slightly bigger breasts burrowed in.

“They’re almost done now, Rom,” the beautiful French blonde breathed out, sounding a bit winded but also exceedingly confident. “I know you can feel it, too. My boobs are taming your cute, bouncy puppies.”

“Definitely earned themselves a bit of post-match tonguing, though,” she added in a more throaty tone, capturing her opponent’s gaze and giving the disoriented brunette a seductive, positively smoldering look. “They might even make decent sparring partners, if you’re interested.”

“But we can both tell your boobs just aren’t in the same league as mine. Surrender now, and I won’t have to flatten them completely.”

The modelesque French girl bolstered her words with a smooth and steady push, grinding those magnificent, almost impossibly dense and perfect-looking breasts against Romilda’s full, sexy boobs. The brunette’s meaty orbs began to displace, their thick, youthful flesh compressing and quivering deliciously as it strained to stop the opposing pair’s advance. I leaned forward, staring at the scene intently. Bit by bit, Gabrielle’s pert boobs continued their gradual, measured progress, the French hottie’s remarkably firm titmeat creeping forward and slowly, irresistibly, forcing Romilda’s outmatched breasts to yield more ground. I had to remind myself to keep breathing as I watched the curly-haired girl’s eyes drift down to their sweaty, nubile bosoms and swallow visibly as she saw – and felt – her rival’s set take over the space between them. The slim brunette couldn’t seem to be able to look away, watching in stunned, astonished silence how Gabrielle’s boobs pushed their way deeper and deeper into her own, gently pressing the tanned, supple flesh in and causing the lesser pair to slowly pancake against the shocked first-year’s chest.

Romilda’s eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the sight; her proud, powerful boobs flattening as the blonde’s pert pair simply overwhelmed them with their superior tissue density.

“See?” Gabrielle asked saucily, a cute, somewhat smug smile playing on her beautiful face. That expression made her look even more like the sexy school girl she was.

“Gawwwwd, they’re so… fucking… firm,” her dark-haired opponent groaned, sounding breathless as she tried to arch her back and push against the pressure. The move only caused her own boobs to bulge further out as they molded to the French girl’s unyielding breasts, relinquishing their position with less and less resistance and spreading against her ribcage. “Please Gabby, you’re squeezing me flat!”

“Would you like me to keep going, or are you gonna tap?” the blonde smiled innocently. She looked a bit strained as well, but was clearly experiencing much less discomfort than her opponent, Gabrielle’s perfect boobs controlling the action and causing Romilda’s supple, tanned flesh to shape around them.

“I submit!” the brunette half-gasped, half-whimpered, obviously feeling her boobs ooze out to the sides and begin to simply melt against the blonde’s stronger pair. “Please stop! Your tits are too much for me!”

“I’m glad you noticed,” the beautiful French girl sang, grinning widely at her dazed, flushed-looking opponent and languidly pulling away. “Smart decision, Rom, quitting while these cute, sexy tits still have some firmness left in them. I bet they’ll taste great with all that sweat coating the surface.”

My cock made a mighty lurch at that particular mental image; Gabrielle down on her knees in the changing room, licking Romilda’s tanned, glistening teat and moaning against the brunette’s tender flesh, causing it to quiver and ripple against her ravenous mouth. FUCK. I had no idea how I’d managed not to shoot my load already, but if the little French coquette didn’t stop with her insanely hot teasing soon, I was definitely going to need a new pair of underpants. And so was everyone else, I bet.

Gabrielle regarded the slim, dark-haired girl with hazy, heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, looking absolutely, positively, ravishing. She licked her plump lips, slowly and deliberately, causing my raging hard-on to jump again.

“Depending on how good you’re with your tongue, we might even make it a recurrent thing.”

Romilda’s face was bright red, and with her big, dark doe-eyes, she looked a lot like the figurative deer caught in the headlights. But I could see that her boobs – which despite the girl’s dusky complexion looked almost pink and drooped perceptibly more than earlier, their shape ripe and tender, you might even say succulent – were topped by two prominent, very engorged-looking nipples. The brunette was horny as all hell.

“I’m game,” she croaked, her face reddening even further as she looked away, apparently not able to maintain the French girl’s heated, steamy gaze. She was almost timid, and acted nothing like that cocky, attention-loving minx we’d seen right before the match. It seemed that Gabrielle may have succeeded in taming more than just Romilda’s tits, at least for the moment…

“Whoooo, well wasn’t that something!” Tracey proclaimed, stepping onto the mat and grinning widely. She was fanning herself with her hand and pretending to wipe off some sweat from her forehead.

“Sizzlin’ hot match, girls! I’d tell you two to get a room, but it seems you’ve already got that set up,” she chuckled, the crowd roaring its approval of their impromptu stakes. As a rule, initiation matches were purely about that, initiating new members, and didn’t feature any additional rewards or punishments, but there was of course nothing to prevent the fighters from agreeing on an arrangement of their own.

“Besides, there’s still one more fight left before I can let you wander off to get even more closely acquainted with each other’s sexy, young boobs,” the raven-haired girl smirked cheerfully, though I did see Tracey’s face was looking somewhat flushed as well, and noticed that she kept stealing glances at Gabrielle’s still pert-looking, absolutely delectable breasts. Not that I blamed her one bit. I could hardly tear my eyes from those glorious orbs myself.

I found myself hoping Romilda wasn’t the jealous type, because there were sure to be scores of other females (and definitely males!) begging for a chance to worship the blonde’s magnificent rack. And Gabrielle didn’t exactly strike me as someone who’d be very big on exclusivity…

“Okay everyone, let’s give a huge round of applause to Gabrielle – and to her first victory here at the Academy! The first of many, no doubt!”

The audience heeded her advice enthusiastically, and a veritable explosion of clapping, yelling, loud bellowing and cat-calling filled the large room as the entire student population cheered Gabrielle’s conquest of the formerly brash and brazen ‘giant-slayer’ brunette.

The first of many indeed, I thought to myself. There was a new Boob Princess on the block. The other girls had better watch out.

*~*~*

For the nth time since I’d started attending these gatherings, I was seriously considering whether or not to slink off to the restrooms for a quick wank. Gabrielle’s sultry boob-taming spectacle had gotten me unusually hot and bothered, and I could feel my hard organ pulsating in my pants. Of course, getting up would also mean I’d have to reveal that fabric-stretching boner to the entire school.

Choices, choices…

What ultimately caused me to determine against some frantic, rapid-fire solo lovemaking was the fact that I knew this brief intermission would be over pretty quickly. And I really didn’t want to miss the upcoming show.

Trying to concentrate on something that might help bring my throbbing erection down at least a bit, I began to scan the audience for familiar faces. Hermione had gotten up to go congratulate Gabrielle, but apparently thought better of disturbing her once she saw the French girl lead her rather shellshocked-looking ‘prize’ off to the side, away from all the ruckus. Gabrielle and Romilda seemed to be busy whispering something to each other, and clearly wanted some privacy. To me, it looked like the slim, dark-haired firsty’s initial stupor might be on the wane, and being steadily replaced by a heightened state of arousal and lust.

That latter condition, I strongly suspected, would not be wearing off anytime soon.

“Lucky girl,” Hermione murmured, plopping back down to the seat next to me. “Well, maybe not the public tit-squashing part so much,” she added with a snicker. “But at least Romilda knows when she’s beat. Some of the girls here are just too proud for their own good. Rather than admit that they’ve been decisively out-boobed, they’ll insist on you grinding every last bit of their lesser sacks to paste,” she huffed, making a disapproving face. “As if that’ll somewhow make their sets appear better or stronger. Instead of doing the exact opposite.”

“Morons,” the brainy brunette sighed with a mock-superior smirk. I desperately wanted to ask her if she was perhaps speaking from personal experience, but given how the ‘junior’ was still at least at half mast, I made the sensible decision to keep my mouth shut.

“Anyway, I actually didn’t know that Romilda even was into girls. She’s always seemed like a pretty stereotypical cock-cruncher to me, only fooling around with big, burly guys until now,” she contemplated. “But then again, if you’re the least bit bi-curious, Gabrielle’s definitely not someone you’ll say no to…”

I snorted, not feeling inclined to disagree. Even if a girl was completely straight, one night with Gabrielle could probably convert them to the other side. She was simply that hot.

“And in any case, it looks like Romilda’s got every reason to be proud of her boobs. I’m not sure mine would’ve held up any better against Gabrielle’s super-tits,” Hermione muttered, glancing down at her clothed bust. “If anything, I’d say Romilda’s set might be a little bit denser.”

“But not as big,” I pointed out helpfully, peering at the bookworm’s two sizable mounds of sweatermeat. She chuckled.

“Well, close enough. And since she’s pretty tall and thin, they at least look about the same size as mine. God I hate skinny girls,” the full-figured second-year grumbled playfully.

“I bet they hate you, too, ‘Mione. There’s no way Romilda could ever dream of competing with that superb butt,” I smirked, waggling my eyebrows at her.

“Oh, so you do like it?” the brunette cooed, her lips curling into a wolfish, toothy grin. “More than Fleur’s?”

*~*~*

A sharp whistle from Tracey helped bring down the commotion as most students concluded their conversations and turned their attention to the second-hear, slowly quieting down to watch the next – and final – bout of topless boob-wrestling.

I watched as Isabella leisurely got up from her seat, pausing to kick off her designer shoes before she began to approach the mat. Several seats to her right, I saw Cho offering her friend Marietta some final words of advice and encouragement while the reddish-blonde -haired girl stretched her torso, obviously warming up.

“It is my honour to present,” Tracey called out in a clear voice, “the participants of today’s second initiation match.”

“You of course already know the girl who’ll be ‘ushering in’ our newest Year Two student, both by name, and by reputation!” Tracey hollered dramatically, drawing some whoops and jeers from the audience. “Her famously tough tits and ruthless modus operandi have thrashed their fair share of knockers, flattening veterans and beginners alike,” she continued, letting her gaze move through the sea of students as she worked the crowd. “In the latter category, and in one of her first public gigs no less, she was even kind enough to provide a fellow firstie with a much-needed attitude adjustment.”

“I’ve never looked down on smaller racks since. As much.”

Tracey’s facetious, self-effacing quip was awarded with the appropriate smattering of laughs and hoots, and I saw the reddish-haired girl in question flash a somewhat pompous-looking smirk at the announcer, before rolling her eyes at that last addendum. To my knowledge Tracey was currently located a bit higher in the rankings, but I wasn’t sure if she’d ever actually avenged that early loss.

“Let’s give a round of applause to our thoroughly remorseless and downright sneaky Boob-Buster, Marietta!

The smirking second-year stepped forward, Marietta’s shoulder-length strawberry-blonde curls framing her face and bobbing around as she flipped Tracey off. She was dressed in dark brown bermuda shorts and a beige, rather low-cut t-shirt that exposed a fair bit of inviting cleavage. The garment wasn’t particularly snug, but still tight-fitting enough to highlight the girl’s two sizable, nicely rounded breasts. Their small jiggles in the confines of the top told me Marietta likely wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Yet with this debutante, I somehow feel she may be in for a real test!”

Tracey’s tone had changed slightly, and I noticed she was trying to suppress a grin. Unlike the raven-haired girl, most people in the room had no inkling of what kind of opposition Marietta would be dealing with.

“You see, the busty bombshell taking her on isn’t exactly a novice herself, and already has some impressive wins under her belt…”

“Without further ado, transferring to the Academy all the way from Chile – but originally hailing from Italy – please welcome, Smokin’ Hot Isabella!”

A roar of loud cheers and whistles greeted Tracey’s introduction, and I saw more than a few male students rise up in their seats a bit as they rubbernecked the gorgeous, leggy brunette. Though Isabella was still wearing that baggy, teal-coloured jumper, her exceptionally good looks were impossible to miss. The brunette rolled her shoulders lazily, regarding the audience with a serene, almost disinterested expression. Whether or not she really felt that confident about the match – and of her chances of winning it – at least the impression of supreme self-assurance was palpable.

Across from her, Cho’s loyal sidekick Marietta took her spot on the opposite side of the mat. She looked somewhat less imperious, but calm and collected all the same. As Tracey had intimated, Marietta was a fierce fighter, notorious for her viciousness on the mat, and had bested a number of girls in these contests before. I knew the list to include two rather experienced and now-graduated third-years whose sets she’d bashed in during the last few weeks of the previous school year – when Marietta herself was still pretty fresh – and more recently, as part of Autumn’s initiation ceremonies for the latest batch of firsties, I recalled her chipping in to dispatch at least one set of firm newbie boobs without so much as breaking a sweat. I’d also seen her slam tits with Pansy back in September or October, and while the stacked blonde had eventually managed to clobber Marietta’s much smaller pair to submission, it’d been a close run thing.

There was no doubt that having a high-calibre titfighter like Cho as your best friend and training partner played a big role in her performance. But technique and skill alone could only get you so far. In other words, Marietta seemed to have quite a bit of ‘naturally-grown talent’ as well. And perhaps most importantly, a killer instinct.

Taking a moment to study the competitors, it was easy to see that the reddish-blonde -haired girl was markedly less top-heavy than the Italian beauty facing her. Under that low-cut top she was sporting a pair of medium-sized D-cups if memory served – a respectable but not especially large endowment – placing her in the ‘average’ range of girls as far as the school’s titfighting circle was concerned. In terms of size, that is; otherwise I knew her to be much closer to the top than the bottom of the hierachy. As I continued my visual inspection further downward, I couldn’t help but note that Marietta appeared to fall behind her opponent in every other physical category as well, with less padding in all the strategic areas where you’d likely want it, and more meat on her bones everywhere else. That’s not to say the girl was ugly; apart from her slightly smaller bust, Marietta’s build reminded me a bit of Lavender’s pleasantly buxom but solid figure, and her face, while not as pretty as the firsty’s, was still more attractive than most. Or at least it would’ve been, did she not spend so much time sneering or frowning, as she did right then. Compared to Hermione, Marietta seemed to be very similarly equipped in the chest area, but lacked the brainy brunette’s more pronounced curves in the hips and the posterior region. I risked a brief glance to my right, hungrily drinking in Hermione’s thick, shapely thighs, and enjoying the way they seemed to stretch the grey fabric of her likely relaxed-fit jeans. With legs like those, pretty much anything she wore ended up looking snug. And that wasn’t a complaint.

Having apparently sensed my appreciative gaze – I’d certainly not been ogling her, no sir – the full-figured brunette chortled, bumping her shoulder against mine with a cute huff.

“Oh Ced, honestly… you’re incorrigible! There’s a pair of sexy, big-titted girls right in front of you, ready to take their tops off, and you’ve still got time to check me out, too?” She murmured under her breath, chastising me with what sounded like an exasperated sigh, but her grin betrayed her. Hermione’s warm, brown eyes were sparkling with amusement, tenderness and… something more as she leaned closer.

“I’m flattered, really,” the bookworm whispered, locking her gaze with mine. There was a familiar, intense blaze raging in those chocolate orbs, sending a shiver down my spine. “Not every girl has the hottest guy in the school, who just so happens to be dating the hottest babe in the country, lusting after her.”

I swallowed, feeling my cheeks begin to heat up again, but the brunette shook her head, just barely, those deep, mesmerizingly dark eyes staring straight into mine. She wasn’t teasing or joking around this time.

“That ride I gave you must’ve rocked your world even more than I’d hoped. My pussy tamed you pretty good, huh?” Hermione breathed out, peering up at me seductively. Oh god. It was exactly that smoldering, mischievous look that’d been burned into my memory; the very same she’d given me when she rode me over the edge, waves of pure, all-consuming pleasure engulfing me as I erupted inside her and spurted my seed into the girl’s warm, velvety depths. She’d maintained that fierce gaze all the while her walls squeezed and kneaded my cock over its entire length, pumping out every last bit of cum and very nearly causing me to pass out from sheer orgasmic bliss.

Speaking of my cock, that particular organ had grown absolutely rock-hard once more, and was throbbing against my pants in a rather painful manner.

I nodded shakily, knowing better than to open my mouth just then. She’d bloody well fucked my brains out, several times in a row. Had Fleur not been there to help out, I’m pretty sure the brunette would’ve taken me apart completely. As it was, the three of us had shagged each other to a glorious, mutually sated exhaustion, our bodies totally drained and wiped out. The mere thought of Hermione’s naked body pressing against mine, so soft, sweaty and voluptuous, nearly caused me to go off again.

The grin on the girl’s cute, rosy lips indicated she knew exactly what I’d been thinking.

“Just so you know, the feeling is mutual,” Hermione whispered, biting on her lip gently as her intense gaze softened a bit. “I haven’t been been able get that night out of my mind, either…”

“Any time you’d like to do more than just ogle, let me know.”

With that, the brunette scooted away, turning to look at the mat and proceeding to pretend as if that little conversation never happened. I blinked, staring at her, desperately trying to sort out the maelstorm of thoughts flying around my head – and to get my raging hard-on back under control. What exactly had she meant by that last bit? Surely the invitation was for both me and Fleur, even if she hadn’t specified it? Or was Hermione actually suggesting… I blinked again, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Those efforts were interrupted by loud voices coming from the centre of the room, however, and I suddenly realized that the contestants were still standing on edges of the mat, as was the designated ‘tutor’, Tracey. She seemed to have wrapped up her intro and was signalling for Isabella and Marietta to take up their positions.

“Thanks for choosing me to deliver your first loss here, fat-jugs,” the second-year intoned, stepping forward and appearing decidedly unconcerned as she regarded her more chesty opponent, a spiteful smirk playing on her face. “There’s nothing I like more than fresh meat.”

“Those big, flabby pillows ought to make perfect punching bags for some good ol’ battering,” Marietta added in a contemptuous sneer. She sounded just as fearless she looked.

Isabella’s wide, menacing grin was downright scary.

“Oh, they’re perfect for punching, alright,” she replied in a honeyed, ice-cold tone. “My bigger, better tit-crusher boobs will pound your puny little sacks to an absolute, mangled wreck.”

“Better get the doc’s number from our referee. You’ll be needing to buy yourself a whole new pair of tits after we’re done here,” Isabella promised, her grin only growing more and more predatory.

“I suggest you try something adult-sized for a change.”

Clearly audible giggles met the brunette’s venomous taunt, and I saw Marietta’s eyes flash angrily.

“As if your ugly saggers aren’t in desperate need of a replacement,” she snapped. “Luckily for you, I’m going to rub them right off your chest, free of charge.”

“Ugly saggers? Think again.”

With that, the Italian girl grabbed the bottom of her jumper, pulling it up. I held my breath, watching as she peeled off both the the knit garment and the white shirt she’d been wearing underneath it in one well-practised motion. Isabella’s large, still bra-clad breasts plopped into view, their tanned flesh rippling slightly against the cups as those two impressive globes pushed against the fabric, appearing to strain the material considerably. They were obviously quite dense and thick, sitting high on the brunette’s lean torso and looking nicely spherical – at least for now. The material of that blue, full-coverage brassiere seemed rather sturdy, and made it difficult to tell how much of their appearance was the bra’s doing.

Of course, being privy to Isabella’s earlier conversation with Tracey and Daphne, I had a pretty good guess.

Marietta immediately followed her opponent’s cue, not pausing to examine the brunette’s near-bare upper body as she yanked her own t-shirt off. I watched the tips of the second-year’s braless tits scrape against the fabric while she pulled it upwards, following its movement before suddenly dropping down as they cleared the hem. Two pale, ample breasts leapt out with an audible thud, their supple flesh settling down with a sexy jiggle. Her gaze glued onto her rival’s, Marietta cupped her sizable, rather solid-looking boobs and gave them a small shake, making the thick titmeat quiver against her palms with clearly discernible elasticity, its youthful firmness and density apparent to everyone.

“Wanna try ’em out for yourself?” the reddish-haired girl asked snarkily as she let her meaty breasts slide down and fall back against her chest, creating another delicious bounce. I felt my cock twitch as I drank in all the small, fleshy shivers that made their way across Marietta’s cute and noticeably light-coloured set. She did have pretty good-looking rack, I had to admit. Probably a mid-size D cup, with a nice and plump shape. They did have a little bit of sag, but still looked full and rounded, and were undeniably attractive. Not too different from Hermione or Lavender’s in terms of appearance, and right about on par with the former when it came to volume.

Taking the opportunity to give the redhead’s young, half-naked physique a quick once over, I could now see that she wasn’t quite as shapely as either, sporting a somewhat blockier build with less pronounced curves and perhaps a hint wider waistline. Well, wider than Lavender’s, anyway; Hermione successfully compensated for her slightly meatier torso and limbs with even more thickness around the hips and thighs. But even if Marietta couldn’t quite match those two ‘curvy cuties’ in my opinion, her figure was still pleasing to the eye, in a similar girl-next-door kind of way.

Yet there was no getting around it. Being face-to-face with the Italian bombshell’s leaner, more toned and yet simultaneuously very curvaceous, mouth-wateringly tempting hourglass body, Marietta inevitably looked rather plain and doughy. A ‘seven’ made to seem like a ‘five’ because she was standing next to a perfect ‘ten’.

Though in her defence, almost anyone would’ve suffered the same fate.

If the reddish-haired second year was intimidated by her gorgeous opponent’s remarkably good looks, she at least didn’t show it.

“Okay, latin bitch. Time to roll those overgrown fat-bags out of their support bra,” Marietta snarled, craning her head from side to side as she stretched her neck. “And don’t feel too self-conscious about the droopage – my firm, sexy boobs will turn them to mush in a sec anyway.”

“You seriously call those floppy things ‘firm and sexy’?” Isabella chortled incredulously, laughing in genuine (but unmistakably sinister-sounding) mirth as she reached behind to unhook the clasps of her brassiere. “Oh, you dumb, conceited girl… you’ve really got no idea who you’re messing with.”

The dark-haired beauty offered her opponent one last condescending smile as she slowly slid off the cups. The entire room watched in rapt attention as two large, meaty breasts sprang free with a delicious bounce, and I saw Marietta’s face fall. Despite their obvious size and heft, the brunette’s now-naked tits barely dropped, maintaining a notably rounded, substantial form as they jutted out proudly, as if challenging any woman to try and match them. What little hang I could detect only served to give the Italian girl’s big teardrop jugs a more natural appearance. Their richly tanned skin looked smooth and flawless as well, featuring no visible stretch marks, and I felt a familiar stir in my groin as I realized that the modelesque brunette hadn’t been lying: she was indeed bigger up top than my girl.

To my rather well-trained eye, Bella’s globes seemed to be in the region of a mid-range Double D, making them roughly half a cup size larger than Fleur’s set. Or maybe just a hint less? In any case, it was a perceptible if not particularly glaring difference. Their overall shape wasn’t quite as perky, though, the brunette’s tanned jugs looking thick, round and somehow… simply more abundant. ‘Majestic’ rather than ‘pert’, I thought, and certainly very, very impressive. Even a cursory glance would’ve convinced the observer of their considerable weight and density, and as I watched Bella shift her balance from left to right while she flaunted her glorious big rack at everyone, only a few isolated ripples could be seen making their way across the Italian beauty’s large, ample and undeniably firm-looking boobs.

As nice as they’d seemed in that bra, the brunette’s breasts looked even better now that they were out in the open. She had a pair of truly spectacular world-class tits.

The entire audience was staring at the newcomer’s freshly-bared rack in open-jawed astonishment. While most people’s eyes seemed to have gone wide with sheer surprise, many students appeared to be gazing at the topless Italian girl with either lust or jealousy. Or both. Only one single face, I idly noticed, was contorted into a look of apprehension and dread. Marietta’s.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” I heard someone mutter, and glanced over my shoulder to see a tall, lanky boy with ginger hair gawking at the brunette’s naked bust. He was probably a first-year, since I couldn’t recall his name, and appeared to be actually drooling as he leered at the busty Italian boob goddess. Swiveling back, I shared a look with Hermione.

“Sums it up, pretty much,” she muttered, sounding every bit as impressed as everyone looked. “I don’t think Marietta’s got any chance against those.”

Judging by the girl’s expression, it seemed Marietta might’ve been thinking along the same lines. Her face had gone pale – even paler than usual, that is – as she stood still, frozen in her spot, and simply stared at her opponent’s huge, awe-inspiring globes. Despite being only slightly smaller than Daphne and Pansy’s massive mammaries we’d seen earlier, they had a much more solid-looking, strikingly spherical shape, and actually seemed to feature less visible hang than the Marietta’s own single-D set did.

“We’re almost exactly the same size, and pretty close in shape, too,” Hermione noted quietly, confirming my estimate as she pursed her lips in thought. “But Marietta’s are just a tad softer than mine. Or, at least I think so. They seemed to yield a bit more in the initial grind. And a LOT more later on,” she added, flashing me a satisfied grin as she mentally relived her own match against the second-year. “Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s definitely a smart, mean fighter, and her pair’s pretty big and dense, which is more than enough against most girls. Almost was against me. But…” she trailed off, gesturing weakly towards the mat.

I snorted, nodding in agreement. Isabella definitely wasn’t most girls.

If I’d had any doubts about the plausibility of her claim earlier, thinking she might’ve been boasting or embellishing things a bit, they were all gone now. Those huge, imposing jugs looked plenty capable of putting even my girlfriend’s pair on the defensive, and as much as I might’ve wanted to say otherwise, it wasn’t that hard to imagine them actually overpowering them. At the very least, I swallowed, the brunette’s rack would be likely to give Fleur one hell of a workout.

Shifting in my seat discreetly to ensure the pronounced bulge in my crotch remained hidden, I did my best not to think about how they’d apparently already done more than that. Regardless of exactly how big or how small Fleur’s lead in breast size had been back then, the fact her boobs had been (occasionally) bested despite it was quite disconcerting.

Isabella just stood there for a moment, hands on her hips and chest thrust out, her huge, firm orbs jutting majestically as she let everyone gawk at her pride and joy. And the rest of her scantily clad, glamour model -like physique as well. Whereas Gabrielle looked both cute and hot, the dusky Italian doubled down on the latter. She was practically dripping sex.

If only she didn’t look so damn intimidating…

I was more than a little surprised to see Marietta make the first move. The reddish-blonde -haired girl kept her gaze firmly on her rival’s face as she stepped forward, Marietta’s lighter (both in terms of weight and colour) tits quivering slightly on her chest. Isabella mirrored her movements with a wry, menacing grin, both girls positioning their breasts to meet the opposition. I watched their nipples line up, barely an inch apart. Isabella glanced down, too, and gave the redhead’s more modest, one full cup size smaller bosom a disparaging sneer.

“You know, when I picked you, I didn’t realize they’d be both small AND soft,” Isabella tutted, shaking her head in disappointment. “Usually girls like you at least have some perkiness to make things more interesting. Those are just… pitiful.”

Marietta scowled, and I heard several girls in the audience snicker at the insult. Her past victims, perhaps? Objectively speaking the redhead wasn’t anywhere near flat-chested of course, nor could you accurately characterize her full, pleasantly plump teats as soft or saggy. It’s just that the visual comparison with Isabella’s monumental globes wasn’t at all favourable to them.

“I’d be more worried about those overinflated water balloons if I were you.” Marietta snapped, her nostrils flaring dangerously as anger seemed to begin supplanting apprehension. “It’d be a shame if someone popped and emptied them. We’ll see whose rack looks pathetic after this.”

“We certainly will,” Isabella laughed. With a confident smirk, the brunette pushed her left breast into Marietta’s right teat, slowly and demonstratively. We all watched how the sheer size and density of Isabella’s large, round globe forced Marietta’s supple flesh inward, displacing the smaller boob as it yielded to the Italian girl’s intimidating combination of mass and firmness. The redhead groaned at the sensation, pulling back and quickly withdrawing her set from the first contact.

I’d been meaning to ask my girlfriend just how big of a psychological impact these initial standoffs tended to have on the rest of the match, and made a mental note to bring it up with her later on. In this particular case, however, I suspected the contest had been pretty much decided before it even began. On the mat, Isabella’s smug, predatory grin widened further.

“Fuck… I think she might be as firm as Angelina,” someone muttered behind me, their friend seeming to concur with a quiet murmur. And to be fair, I thought, it was hard to disagree with that assessment. Aside from the obvious contrast in colour, Isabella’s breasts did bear a striking resemblance to the black girl’s famously potent pair, featuring highly similar contours and overall form. Only Isabella’s were a tad bigger. The fact that they maintained an almost identical shape despite the added size and heft was doubly impressive, and suggested that the tissue inside the brunette’s globes might actually be even denser.

Either way, it looked like Marietta was in serious trouble.

“Yeah, just as I thought,” the Italian beauty mocked, her voice a cool, disdainful drawl. “Not only are your tits weak and mushy, but so is the rest of you.”

Personally, I wasn’t entirely sure whether Isabella was referring to the redhead’s rather hasty retreat, or to her general physique. Maybe she meant both. The main thing was that she got the reaction she’d been looking for.

Marietta charged at the Italian girl with a growl, and for a brief moment, I thought she was going to straight-up ram her opponent, tits first. The second-year was much craftier and more experienced than that, however. I watched as Marietta suddenly twisted her torso mid-lunge, slamming her smaller pair into Isabella’s huge, round jugs from the side. It was a direct hit, and I winced instinctively at the loud, wet-sounding ‘smack’ that echoed around the room. Isabella let out a hiss as she felt the vicious impact, Marietta’s thick boobs connecting with her own pair and causing the larger orbs to dent and to recoil to the side. Less than Marietta had probably expected. The reddish-haired girl couldn’t prevent a grunt of her own as her more compact set pushed in from the blow as well, the pale flesh shaking and waving on her chest as it rebounded back to its normal, nicely rounded form.

Undeterred by the lack of a more pronounced reaction, Marietta immediately pulled back for another strike. I saw Isabella begin to turn her own torso this time, apparently anticipating a repeat of the first blow, but the second-year again showed her considerable skill by dipping down and slamming her tits upward into the base of Isabella’s bigger, firmer-looking rack instead. Like before, Marietta’s aim and timing were impaccable. The Italian girl’s globes pushed in from the bottom, even getting lifted up a bit by the force of the collision, and jiggling violently. Still, it seemed that their impressive size and mass were able to dissipate much of the energy, and to do some damage to the opposing pair of breasts in return.

Marietta’s smaller boobs flattened at the point of impact, their dense, supple flesh spreading out briefly as they smashed against the brunette’s prodigious breasts. I watched the attacker’s pale but quickly reddening tits snap back into shape with a delicious bounce, wobbling on her chest as Marietta moved back to get some space for the next strike. She didn’t give her rival any time to regroup or retaliate, bombarding Isabella’s large, firm mammaries with a flurry of blows from her own sizable jugs. The brunette cursed and tried to back away, but Marietta’s momentum meant that Isabella’s big and meaty orbs were getting hit from the sides with impressive frequency. The combined force of all the impacts caused the Italian bombshell’s boobs to bounce into one another, and her expression seemed to indicate not just irritation, but also quite a bit of pain and discomfort.

Countless dull thuds and slaps reverberated off of the walls, and I stared on, impressed, as Marietta’s softer-seeming tits flew at Isabella’s boulder-like tits as though trying to batter away the brunette’s imposing firmness. Marietta’s big, ample boobs seemed to sling away from her torso slightly, their thick flesh no doubt starting to loosen up a bit as they made consistent contact with Isabella’s massive, dense globes, impacting the darker pair with almost reckless abandon. The brunette’s harsh, disdainful words seemed to have really gotten under Marietta’s skin, I thought. Despite her strawberry blonde hair, the girl appeared to have the temperament of a full-blooded redhead.

The modelesque brunette had finally run out of patience, however. She let out a low gnarl, sounding like some large feline, and twisted to the right, torqueing her waist and sending a massive haymaker from her left. Isabella’s big, firm jugs slung out, and I felt myself stiffen as I watched her larger breasts pull away from her chest slightly, their considerable weight evident. Marietta managed to dodge to the side, however, and Isabella’s momentum pulled her off of the straight line up that she’d established. The second-year struck instantly, slamming her smaller left teat into Isabella’s still shivering right mammary. Both boobs molded at the point of impact, jiggling fiercely, but the brunette’s larger globes still seemed to displace less. Marietta pulled away with a slight wince, obviously hurt, but Isabella’s face remained a mask of frustration and discomfort. Hermione hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Cho’s pal was a ‘smart and mean’ fighter.

Clearly annoyed by her opponent’s indisputable skill and aggression, the Italian beauty swung back. And this time, her jugs did connect. I heard Marietta, who apparently either hadn’t seen the blow coming, or simply hadn’t been able to evade it quickly enough, let out a deep groan as Isabella’s much bigger and heavier jugs slammed into her round boobs. There was also a collective ‘ooh’ as the audience watched the pale-skinned girl’s smaller tits splay out, their reddened flesh pushing in visibly as the larger orbs forced them backwards into Marietta’s chest with their sheer size and density. Isabella swung again from the other side, understandably eager to keep the momentum of the fight in her favour, but Marietta jumped back, just barely avoiding the follow-up blow. I watched the second-year’s sore tits flop around on her chest, shaking wildly as Marietta struggled to regain her balance.

Fortunately for her, Isabella’s miss had had a lot of power behind it. The reddish-blonde -haired girl leapt forward again, slapping her boobs against the opposing set of breasts. A loud, wet ‘thwack’ sounded from the sea of mashed titmeat, the fighters’ flesh shifting and trembling beneath the pressure and contact of the other pair. Marietta pulled back first, her tits still shaking violently, but I saw that there was a confident look on her face. The second-year’s eyes were firmly focused on Isabella’s massive orbs as she charged forward to land a battering-ram attack against the larger pair.

But by now, Isabella was altogether done playing around. She met Marietta’s latest offensive with a shove of her own, the brunette’s huge, impressively dense rack slamming straight into the incoming pair with momentous combined force. Their boobs smashed together with a meaty ‘splat’, and a wave of young, supple flesh exploded outward from the collision. Despite Marietta’s greater initial momentum, it was the modelesque Italian’s huge, firm rack that seemed to take over the space between them. I joined Marietta in her groan as I watched Isabella’s jugs simply overwhelm the more compact set with their greater weight, volume and firmness, that imposing mass of dusky flesh enveloping the smaller set of teats and forcing it to flatten against the redhead’s torso, her thick, round breasts losing their usual form as they folded under the immense pressure. Isabella’s jugs of course displaced visibly as well, her abundant flesh pushing in at the centre and ballooning out, but I could see that they were giving up appreciably less ground than their paler counterparts. The girls remained still for a moment, their hands resting on each others’ arms as both took a short breather. Even the brunette was gritting her teeth, their violent boob-collision clearly having hurt quite a bit.

“You should’ve just rammed me right at the start,” Isabella hissed at her opponent in the embrace. “Would’ve saved yourself a lot of time and effort. Those weak, squishy sacks were never gonna last long against my epic jugs.”

I watched Marietta’s boobs regain their shape slowly, filling back up as the fighters pulled apart. To me, it looked like the redhead’s eyes may have been tearing up, no doubt from the stinging pain and ache she was experiencing, but her face reflected more anger than anything else.

“You’ve got fight, I’ll give you that,” Isabella continued. “A feisty little bitch with lots of viciousness, ruthlessness and aggression, and just the right amount of control to use them effectively. All the makings of a dangerous opponent. Except the tits.”

Marietta opened her mouth, but before she could get off any insults or abuse of her own, the Italian beauty shoved her rack forward again. It was a much gentler, progressive thrust, I noted, watching how the smaller pair of tits again began to yield first, struggling to maintain its position and starting to compress towards the girl’s ribcage. Marietta groaned as she felt Isabella’s mighty mammaries slowly force her less plentiful flesh to push out, her boobs reshaping visibly as the brunette pressed ahead. Marietta rolled her back instinctively as she responded by shoving back, and I saw her eyes go wide. Despite her best efforts, Isabella’s tanned tits continued to displace hers, the girl’s meaty pair flattening against her chest as the bigger rack steadily swallowed more and more of her own set.

“That’s right, miss ‘boob-buster’,” Isabella hissed, a truly spiteful smirk marring her otherwise beautiful face. “Those slams and blows didn’t to shit to my big, firm jugs. Your pathetic little udders were practically bouncing off of mine,” the brunette mocked, appearing to enjoy her rival’s furious expression. “Pathetic. Little. Udders.”

“Fuck you!”

The strawberry-blonde girl surprised me by leaning away from her opponent and swinging right back again. Marietta’s shot slammed her ample, sore-looking boobs right into Isabella’s stationary pair with a dull thud, causing their young titmeat to bounce and jiggle. Yet the blow didn’t seem to cause too much actual damage, the more compact set appearing to rebound from Isabella’s larger and denser boobs with rather delicious, supple boyancy.

“Face it, bitch. You just don’t have the rack to compete with someone like me,” the darker-featured latin girl taunted, her grin growing even more smug. It did indeed seem like Marietta’s assault, while certainly painful, brutal and violent, hadn’t been particularly effective at whittling away the thick inner meat of Isabella’s imposing set. At least not any more than it’d weakened her own pair.

“Screw competing – I’m gonna fucking MAIM those bloated udders!” Marietta spat in reply, practically seething despite – or because of – the burn that had to be emanating from her sore, bruised breasts.

The visibly pained but headstrong redhead delivered another short-range tit ram, with the exact same effects as the first. Marietta’s teats mashed into her rival’s majestic orbs, reshaping both sets but mostly just bouncing off as the Italian’s resilient breast-tissue sprang back into shape and repelled the opposing set of boobs. Isabella grunted, but retaliated with a quick counter-jab, smacking her globes against Marietta’s still quivering teats. The heavy impact sent the more compact pair into shockwaves that rippled across their discolouring surface, and I watched the second-year’s supple teats shake violently as they laboured to regain their usual, ample form. The jiggles seemed to take noticeably longer to settle down than when she’d first bared them, and it was impossible to miss how splotchy, bright-red and tender Marietta’s once-impressive boobs now looked.

Isabella’s bigger, more tanned globes appeared less affected by the constant abuse. They bore some bruises and looked a bit swollen, but hadn’t suffered as much overall discolouration, and definitely maintained a rounder, fuller shape.

“Fine, suit yourself,” the Italian beauty sighed, shrugging casually. The gesture caused her well-tanned orbs to jiggle enticingly, revealing that they, too, had softened from their earlier state somewhat, but the contrast to Marietta’s much more pronounced wobbliness remained clear.

“I hope you’ve got some money saved for the operation, ’cause your old set isn’t likely to recover from this,” Isabella murmured, that predatory smirk making its way onto her face again. “I’ll be pounding these sad, mushy tits to kingdom come.”

“Oh you’re gonna get it now, you greasy latin wh- unnh!”

A chest-bump from the busty Italian bombshell slammed against the second-year’s boobs, interrupting her enraged yell and turning it into a groan. Marietta’s tits trembled at the contact, and I felt myself holding my breath as Isabella moved for another blow, causing the irate redhead to grunt and stagger as she stumbled backwards. She’d barely caught her footing when Isabella’s two massive orbs smashed into her rack again, this time with even more force. I watched Marietta’s full D-cup tits disappear for a split second, crushed by the weight and size of Isabella’s oversized jugs as the brunette’s denser flesh caused them to flatten severely.

“Ohhh ffuuuucck!” Marietta groaned, feeling her meaty boobs pancake against her chest. You could tell the blow had hurt her. But Isabella wasn’t done. Her next blow was just as strong as the last one, and very much on target. The reddish-haired student reeled from the strike, gurgling as her smaller teats were overpowered by the latin beauty’s huge, firm jugs, her supple titmeat splashing out and reshaping violently.

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it in return?” the brunette snorted. “Typical.”

Isabella smiled as she ground her globes against Marietta’s outmatched pair for a moment, seeming to relish the sensation. The entire gymnasium was taking in her domination of the notoriously ferocious second-year in hushed stillness – save for Marietta’a breathless moaning as she felt her boobs getting turned to mush. The whole time Isabella’s lips were curled into that smug, malicious smirk, obviously taking great pleasure in feeling Marietta’s sizable boobs yield to her own. You could tell she enjoyed the thrill of controlling another woman’s pride and joy even more than most titfighters.

After one more pass of languid boob-rubbing Isabella pulled off, but didn’t give Marietta more than a second of respite before grabbing the reddish-haired girl by her upper arms and swinging her tits into the shaken Year Two student’s boobs. Marietta groaned and then cried out as the brunette’s heavy, dense orbs rammed her smaller, more pliant pair. Isabella grinned, repeating the blow. The force was so strong that I saw Marietta’s head jerk to the side, the second-year’s mouth hanging open in a silent wail as her boobs got pulverized, absorbing more and more punishment. Isabella, for her part, simply kept bashing her big, round tits into Marietta’s, relishing her dominance over the previously fierce and (over)confident girl.

“Okay, let’s see how those floppy little saggers are doing.” Isabella called out with a venomous laugh, pulling away from her opponent to allow everyone to get a look at the damage she’d wrought.

Marietta’s normally pale boobs weren’t just red, they’d turned an ugly shade of purple, and were hanging considerably, looking somewhat deflated. I could see the fire in her eyes had dimmed as well, the formerly feisty girl now appearing more stunned than anything else. It didn’t seem like a comeback would be in the cards for her.

“Hmm, not a bad colour, even if I do prefer ‘plum’ myself. Maybe this’ll do the trick,” the buxom Italian bombshell cooed.

With a grin, Isabella pulled the groaning second-year in for a hug, rubbing her larger globes against Marietta’s battered, now highly malleable teats and causing them to mold around her own set. I watched the brunette shift from one foot to another as she slid her jugs across and then over the redhead’s hapless tits, grinning as the smaller set flattened under their weight, her latest maneuver stretching Marietta’s soft, badly-bruised udders and causing them to sag severely.

“Auuggghhhh, you fucking biiittcchh!” the second-year wailed as her firm, youthful boobs broke down, sounding beyond distressed. She still hadn’t formally surrendered, I realized, despite the fight obviously being already over.

Not appearing the least bit fazed by Marietta’s continued refusal to acknowledge her defeat, the modelesque Italian student grabbed her rival’s wrists and wrestled them behind the girl’s back, trapping Marietta with her mutilated, droopy-looking tits thrust out. Isabella rubbed her own, majestically-shaped orbs onto them in an up-and-down motion, forcing the lesser pair of boobs to compress, reshape and bend at will, oozing around the brunette’s more powerful breasts. Marietta’s overwhelmed, by now pretty much obliterated titmeat flowed freely on her chest, offering little to no resistance to Isabella’s better breasts as it shifted from the pressure and moved wherever the brunette dictated.

Marietta whimpered at the deeply uncomfortable sensation, tears streaming down her cheeks as the Italian boob-goddess humiliated her in front of the whole school. I thought I could see the second-year’s body slowly begin shake with sobs, but Isabella, not noticing or perhaps simply not caring, continued to grind her huge, firm globes into the other girl’s loose and thoroughly vanquished mass of flesh, transitioning from vertical to horizontal scraping and pushing Marietta’s liquefied tits from left to right and back. She chuckled, toying with the redhead’s deflated udders as they melted around her own boobs, appearing to be totally wiped out.

“I gg… I… give up,” Marietta finally managed to choke out through her sobs, lifting her head as she peered at Isabella through pained, water-filled eyes. She was panting weakly, and clearly experiencing severe pain and discomfort. At last, gone was the defiance in her gaze.

“Took you long enough,” Isabella chortled, letting go of the second-year’s wrists but gripping her tearful opponent by the waist and pulling her in. “There’s a fine line between stubbornness and stupidity, you know.”

“Anything you’d like to tell me? Which one of us has got ‘firm and sexy’ boobs?”

“You… do…”

With an unmistakably smug grin, the latin girl mashed her boobs against Marietta’s intimately, the tanned flesh devouring Marietta’s once proud, youthful breasts. I watched Isabella roll her shoulders leisurely as she kept grinding away, using the close contact to annihilate any remaining hints of firmness and continuing to lay waste to her rival’s badly mauled, utterly crushed rack without any discernible pity.

“And yours? How would you describe you own set?”

“They’re just… pathetic l-little… u-udders…” Marietta hiccuped, looking on in bewildered stupor as she witnessed her boobs’ destruction; the thick, supple breast-tissue pancaked like it was made of paste, its structure and integrity seeming to dissolve completely and offering no resistance whatsoever as it flattened against the girl’s ribcage, surrendering to Isabella’s darker flesh totally and unconditionally.

“There, wasn’t so hard, was it?” the brunette asked sweetly, grinning as she peered down and admired her own handiwork. I couldn’t recall having ever seen anyone’s boobs get demolished by another pair like that before, and actually found myself feeling sorry for Marietta, possibly for the first time ever. Then again, she had mostly brought this upon herself.

While the Italian girl certainly didn’t seem to shy away from even brutal violence, I noticed she hadn’t actually initiated any of it. To me, it appeared that Isabella didn’t necessarily enjoy bloodshed or carnage, but rather detested the redhead’s audacious, defiant and persistent challenge to her superiority. And what she’d really desired was to break that insolence. For good.

Making an example and sending a strong message to all the other girls was no doubt a nice bonus as well.

“You’ve ruined my boobs…” Marietta gasped in horrified dismay, sliding down onto the mat as the brunette finally released her from the embrace.

“Shouldn’t start anything you can’t finish, little bitch,” Isabella laughed, shaking her head disparagingly. The Italian beauty took her time savouring the moment, basking in her destruction of the once-cocksure and feisty titfighter, before slowly, languidly peering down at her.

“Make sure not to get in my way ever again.”

To be Continued!

Thank you for reading! For more of Augur‘s Stories: Click Here!Titfight Academy: Chapter 10 by Augur