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  #131  
Old 14-Mar-19, 01:37
Wrestlebabi12 Wrestlebabi12 is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

I would love to read all the alternate endings you've written.
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  #132  
Old 14-Mar-19, 23:33
vicpalumbo vicpalumbo is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

Really interested to see who Chelsea Cheer is and what Kenzie has to gain from this. I'm assuming it's a cheerleader gimmick which is really hot. Nothing quite as humiliating as getting your ass cheerfully kicked, especially if her victims are forced to act as her own personal cheerleaders for her future matches.
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  #133  
Old 24-Mar-19, 04:38
batman4life batman4life is offline
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Default Tales of the Sex Fighting League: The Fight of Her Life

“Winner of the second and final fall with a bearhug submission, and still undefeated….THE MIGHTY MANTAUR!!!”

The slender sexfighter gave one last whimper of defeat as her womanly frame continued to be ragdolled around in her captor’s monstrous forearms, her limbs flailing in the air bonelessly.

Her bare feet dangled limply several feet above the ground as her head rolled to the side, no sign of life present in either eye.

Once, she was known as Sara Steele, the Unbreakable Woman, but as she remained limp in his grasp, the irony of her ring name had truly set in for the audience.

She was broken now, both inside and out.

At the referee’s fear-stricken command, the behemoth of a man finally dropped the redheaded woman down to the canvas, her once proud and supermodel-esque body now little more than a boneless heap of bruised flesh and traumatized memories at his feet.

The referee attempted to raise his hand in victory, but the Mantaur seized upon her with an piercing stare, hastily prompting her to exit the ring.

Taking the honor upon himself, the mountain of a man pumped both fists into the air triumphantly and let out a resounding roar signaling his victory.

As the cameraman at ringside captured his pose in the ring, the JumboTron only further cemented his monstrous visage.

Towering at 6’5, the Mantaur commanded a respectful yet slightly fearful response from the audience.

A thick and gnarly beard covered his entire jawline, leaving a nearly bald head and two beady black eyes that stared down intently into the visibly intimidated audience.

Muscles rippled on top of muscles, with his entire chest bare save for a few tribal tattoos adorning his mountainous shoulders and forearms.

Waist down, his gargantuan and well-toned legs were covered by a pair of cargo pants and army boots.

Head to toe, he was truly the ultimate physical specimen.

Craning his head towards the ring announcer, he held out his bulging right arm and made a beckoning motion.

Almost jumping on the spot, the tuxedo-wearing official quickly reached in between the ropes and offered him his microphone.

Stalking over and snatching it, the monster amongst men first directed his ire down towards his fallen opponent, and now, his twelfth consecutive victim.

Picking Sara Steele up by the hair, he spoke simply, “Too easy.”

And with that, he dropped her back down, allowing some of the medical staff to cautiously approach and roll her underneath the ropes to be taken backstage.

Turning to the entrance ramp, he growled into the microphone, “Enough appetizers! I want competition, real competition. And I want it...NOW!”

The ring itself nearly shook from the commanding bass in his voice, aimed towards anyone who would dare come out of the curtains.

A few seconds passed, bringing only a disappointing silence for the hulking brute.

His chest muscles flexing with malicious intent, he repeated his challenge again with growing impatience, “I won’t ask again. Whoever in the back thinks they have what it takes, you have about ten seconds to get your ass out here. And I don’t give a damn who it is, ‘cause in the end, you’ll be just like everyone else I’ve beaten: JUST….ANOTHER….VICTIM!!!”

Throwing his mic away angrily, he waited with fists clenched and teeth bared as the crowd enthusiastically counted down from 10.

And with every second gone by, the Mantaur was getting more and more unhinged as no sexfighter, male or female, graced the entrance ramp with their presence.

Turning to ringside, he crooked an menacing finger towards the ring announcer, whom valuing his own well-being, quickly climbed up the ring apron and stepped in between the ropes.

Visibly shaking with fear, he nodded his head up and down obediently as the Mantaur barked some instructions at his face.

He then held his own microphone up to his lips as the behemoth crossed his arms expectantly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Mantaur has just informed me that he will not be leaving this ring until an opponent from the backstage area has answered his Open Challenge,” the announcer told the audience, his usually charismatic voice shaken slightly by the muscled brute’s piercing gaze staring right through his eyes.

Some boos accompanied the announcement, as predicted, but the Mantaur could care less.

Ripping the microphone away from the man’s hand, he roared with spittle practically flying from his mouth, “I’m done asking nicely. Either somebody in the back come out right now, or I’m gonna go back there and-”

“Give me a S!”

The Mantaur’s booming voice was interrupted by the sound of an enthusiastic female voice, followed in short order by the apparent arrival of his next opponent.

A chorus of upbeat teen pop music flooded the arena loudspeakers, accompanied by overtly cutesy lyrics and catchy guitar riffs.

“Give me a F!” Upon the drop of the second chorus, his new opponent finally stepped out of the curtains and revealed herself.

A sultry fireball of youth, she easily looked like she just stepped out of the most recent high school yearbook.

Dressed in a green-and-red cheerleader shell top with no sleeves that perfectly accentuated her lithe figure all the way down to her waist, she swung her skirt-covered hips around enticingly on the entrance ramp as the audience looked on in collective intrigue of this newcomer.

The Mantaur, however, was not impressed. If anything, he was even more pissed off!

A mane of shoulder-length hazel hair flowed down her shoulder in a single braid, only further adding to the visual of her channeling her best Britney Spears.

“Give me a L!” Upon the last shout by the singer, the sexfighter strutted down the ramp with a sassy yet very infectious confidence.

The glossy SFL initials were stitched across her shell top as she continued down, enjoying a very favorable yet ultimately skeptical reaction.

Wearing a pair of fashionable Chuck Taylor converse sneakers, she gave a dazzling smile to some of the fans as the JumboTron captured her facial features perfectly: young, beautiful, and woefully unprepared for what was about to come.

“....and introducing his opponent, from Seattle, Washington, and weighing in at 106 pounds, give it up for….CHELSEA CHEER!” the ring announcer finally enthused, his usually bombastic voice even tinged with slight skepticism as the woman approached the human wrecking ball seething just inches away from him.

Still, the sexfighter showed no fear as she finally reached the ring apron, stopping only to kick off her shoes before coming up the steel steps.

The referee finally reentered the ring as Chelsea stepped in between the ropes to come face-to-chest with the mighty Mantaur himself.

Literally two heads shorter than him, she nonetheless showed zero fear as she stared up at his dark, unrelenting eyes.

Taking his cue, the ring announcer hastily slid out of the squared circle as the two continued to lock eyes: the beauty and the man-beast.

Still sizing her up, the brute smirked down on the young sexfighter, “You lose a bet or something, runt?”

Undeterred, she replied with a friendly yet somewhat naive response, “No silly, I came out here to fight you.”

“Fight me?” he snorted, sizing her up with one derisive stare. “I’ve fought colds tougher than you, little girl. In this ring, I’ve fought and beaten the very best this league has to offer me. What makes you any different?”

“Well…” Thinking on her answer while absently twirling her braid around in her hand, Chelsea finally beamed at him brightly, “Fighting spirit, I guess.”

Scoffing, he took a step back to crack his neck rather loudly before turning towards the slightly intimidated referee.

“Ring the bell,” the Mantaur said almost immediately, almost offended by his opponent’s mere presence at this point.

The bell rang as instructed, and the match was soon underway.


_______________________________________

Author's Note: Quite the matchup, huh?

So, for WWE fans, my visual inspiration for the mighty Mantaur was none other than the true Monster Among Men, Braun Strowman. And for Chelsea, I chose the always beautiful avatar of Naomi Swann.

The match in its entirety will be up very soon, but in the meantime, any bets on who's going to win? As always, thanks for reading!
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Last edited by batman4life; 26-Mar-19 at 04:36.
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  #134  
Old 24-Mar-19, 11:13
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mixfightor mixfightor is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

No bets on the outcome, I'm afraid, but I am hoping against hope that Chelsea has some kind of secret technique in mind that will earn her the victory. I love to see an arrogant man learn humility at the hands of a sexy smaller woman, and it is hard to imagine a more arrogant man or a greater disparity in their stature. Naomi Swann is an inspired choice for Chelsea' inspiration pic. Really looking forward to this story, mate. Thank you very much.
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  #135  
Old 25-Mar-19, 01:22
vicpalumbo vicpalumbo is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

It's hard to picture Chelsea beating someone of that freakish size. But she approached him so nonchalantly that I feel like she must know something we don't. Look forward to seeing what happens but my bet is obviously on the giant dude destroying everyone lol.
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  #136  
Old 04-Apr-19, 00:10
batman4life batman4life is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

The Mantaur continued to scowl in place as Chelsea Cheer darted from corner to corner in her side of the ring, utilizing her nimble stature to its full advantage.

Not moving a step since the opening bell, he simply watched her with a hint of sudden curiosity in his eyes.

Perhaps he was impressed at her courage and bravado, which one would need copious amounts of just to face him down in a squared circle.

Or perhaps, he was simply thinking about what agonizing and borderline devious things he was going to do to that hot body practically dancing on display for him.

But either way, his thoughts quickly turned to actions as the Mantaur stalked forward to ensnare his feminine prey with his meaty hands.

Still bouncing on the balls of her feet, she was forced now into a twisted game of cat and mouse as her brutish opponent sought to grab her.

Moving with surprising speed for a man his size, he was finally able to corner her against the turnbuckle not even a second later.

Also moving with deft quickness, she dropped down on all fours, and utilizing her nimble physique to its full advantage, slid in between his open legs.

Crawling free of his intimidating forearms, she barely had time to even look up at the striped official before she felt his masculine hand grab her from behind.

Seizing her by the braid, the Mantaur took his time bringing her even closer into his monstrous grasp.

Now with both hands on her neck, he cocked a smug smirk before violently throwing her against the turnbuckle.

The entire ringpost nearly shook at the sudden impact of Chelsea’s petite frame hitting it, but the behemoth wasn’t yet finished.

Lunging forward, he attempted to clobber her back against the corner with his massive forearms only to instead net empty air.

Darting out from underneath his armpit, the much smaller woman planted herself firmly as the Mantaur turned to face her once again.

Only this time, he was greeted by a stiff low kick directly aimed at his right knee.

Moving while the iron was (apparently) still hot, Chelsea delivered another kick to his legs, both moves only serving to annoy the monster amongst men.

Gritting his teeth angrily, he waited until she wound back for a third kick before lunging forward like venomous cobra and-

“Ack!” Chelsea’s eyes immediately grew wide as his meaty fingers closed tightly around her throat, immediately forcing her down to a knee as his bulging forearm muscles bore down on her slender neck.

“Welcome to my world, you stupid bitch!” the Mantaur practically roared in her grimacing face, dragging her towards the center of the ring as his vice grip only intensified with every passing second.

The referee, personally fearing for her own safety, remained a safe distance away as he continued strangling her.

Where there once was smugness and arrogance in his black eyes, there was now only a fiery indignation born of purely sadistic intentions.

Choking her to the point of near asphyxia, the Mantaur slightly relented in his monstrous grip only to lift her off the mat and into the air with the greatest of ease.

Exerting as much effort as he would a gym dumbbell, the behemoth held her up with only one hand still wrapped around her neck, giving Chelsea Cheer a bird’s eye view of the arena.

Without warning, the giant then chokeslammed her right back down to earth, the emphatic thud of flesh against canvas nearly flattening the petite woman’s frame.

Still holding on to her neck, the Mantaur flashed an evil grin at the cameras at ringside before exerting just a tenth of his uber-Herculean strength to lift her off the mat yet again.

Hoisting her up high over his shoulders, he proceeded to parade around the ring with his opponent practically limp in his one-handed grasp.

Showing her off like an already defeated warrior strung up high, he let the anticipation build in the arena for a moment longer, relishing the inevitable splat while remaining completely oblivious to Chelsea’s legs suddenly swinging upwards and-

“Hmmpphh?” Just before the monstrous brute could deliver the final exclamation point, Chelsea Cheer captured his beefy neck in a surprising headscissors!

Crossing her ankles together, the sexfighter somehow was able to tighten the triangle, and with at least the element of surprise on her side, preceded to squeeze the Mantaur with every ounce of strength present in her petite muscles.

Scrunching her face up in concerted effort as she continued to squeeze, and squeeze even more, Chelsea even pulled on his facial hair some to further intensify her hold.

His face at least visibly registered a few flickers of discomfort as she continued to entrap his head in her leggy triangle, her crotch now involuntarily grinding against his snarling facial features.

“You like that, you big jerk?” she taunted at him in between leg pulses, very much taking his nonresistance to her maneuver as a omen for good things to come. “Betcha didn’t see this coming, huh?”

Still straddling his shoulders, the young sexfighter cheerfully looked up at the JumboTron, perhaps to see an image of her choking out the mighty Mantaur atop his mountainous frame.

It was only a few seconds later, however, that Chelsea Cheer realized, much like the rest of the audience, that the true image was more like a kitten pawing at the face of a feral and very pissed off lion!

“Fuck, why won’t you-eeeee!” Chelsea let out a very high-pitched voice as his strong fingers suddenly shot up and disappeared right underneath her skirt.

Clamping down on the tight globes of her rather round ass, squeezing them tightly with virgin-busting force.

Now gasping in pain as his hands continued to forcefully grope her ass, she attempted to disentangle herself from his determined expression but before she could do just that….

“Hah!” With a sudden roar, the Mantaur powerbombed her right back down into the canvas, her flashing skirt in mid-air now advertising the fact that she wasn’t even wearing panties underneath.

An audible oomph escaping her body as she gingerly arched her lower back, now the recipient of a fall from more than six feet tall.

Quickly shaking off the effects of her attempted submission, he snorted down on her dismissively, “That your best shot, runt?”

A pained moan was the only response he got as Chelsea continued writhing on the canvas.

Just the way he likes it.

Crouching down on her now prone form, he grabbed her by the hair and, wearing a grin of pure sadism, yanked her back up to her feet.

Reaching in between her slender legs, the Mantaur once again effortlessly lifted the hazel-haired woman up over his shoulders in a scoop slam position.

Turning towards the hard camera, he made an exaggerated facial expression to pop the crowd before emphatically slamming Chelsea right back down to the mat in excruciating fashion.

Upon impact, her spine reacted to the unforgiving impact as if invisible needles had just pricked her vertebrae.

Flopping over with her back now facing him, the petite woman showed no more of the youthful spark that had made her stand out against the others.

Now, as the Mantaur sneered down on her with even more sinister thoughts brewing in his mind, it was becoming quite clear that Chelsea Cheer was becoming just like his other victims.

Roughly grabbing the base of her skull like he would grip a basketball, he once again lifted her grimacing expression off the mat with only one arm.

Then, just before she could even begin to regain her footing, he suddenly and quite violently slammed her facefirst back into the familiar canvas.

Earning a sympathetic wince from the audience, the cheerleader in green and red was certainly feeling black and blue all over by this point.

It certainly didn’t help when she felt his boot suddenly coming down on her lower spine, eliciting a pained shriek as she felt at least three pounds of muscle and evil intent bearing down on her, if only for a moment.

Stepping on, then off Chelsea, the brute once again took a moment to pose for the crowd, pumping his fists into the air and uttering a guttural roar before many in the front rows.

“I deserve better than this!” he bellowed out to a nearby cameraman, pounding his chest angrily for emphasis.

Even his muscles seemed to agree, his pectoral muscles flexing dangerously with a light sheen of sweat now covering them.

However, as he continued to play up his frustrations, the still writhing Chelsea conjured up just enough strength to crawl towards the ropes with his attention still preoccupied.

But not for long.

Instinctively snapping his head back at even the slightest hint of movement from his periphery, the Mantaur immediately zeroed in on her attempt to scurry underneath the ropes to recover.

Moving with a speed not indicative of a man his size, he closed the distance between them within a matter of almost nanoseconds.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?” Grabbing her by the ankle just as the rest of her body had slipped to the outside, the Mantaur’s grip was ironclad.

Before she could kick at him with her free leg, he dragged her right back to the center of the ring, and now with one boot on either side of her squirming torso, knelt down to continue having his way with her.

Ten meaty and very experienced fingers suddenly closed around her neck, prompting her to stop struggling immediately as the collective pressure nearly made her eyeballs pop right out of her sockets.

Bringing her up to his level, he told her in no uncertain terms, “Here’s what’s about to happen. I’m going to keep beating the shit out of you until I get bored. Then, if you’re still conscious, I’ll fuck whatever’s left. Got it?”

Taking her pleading eyes and whimpering expression for affirmation of his statement, he then brought her back up to full standing.

Chelsea was only on her feet for a second before her monstrous opponent slammed a knee directly into her solar plexus, quite literally folding her in two.

Gasping out in pain, she barely had enough time to even get a breath out before the mighty Mantaur grabbed her by her uniform and flung her overhead into the opposite end of the ring!

Flying through the air in a noticeably less graceful form than the average cheerleader routine, Chelsea Cheer crashed and nearly burned just inches away from the closest turnbuckle.

Lying face down with her cleavage taking the brunt of the impact, she made no attempt to get up, or even to respond to the referee attempting to check on her.

However, she did respond to the Mantaur’s thundering footsteps nearing her prone form.

Pushing up on her elbows and knees, she was ‘helped’ up to her feet by the brute grabbing a fistful of her hazel locks and pushing her up against the corner.

Seething down on her with utter disgust, he held her face up against the top turnbuckle with one hand while bringing the other up, high above his head.

Letting the suspense build in the arena, the Mantaur gave a sinister chuckle, and down went his open palm...

Slap! There was not a single noise to be had by anyone outside the ring as the brute’s frying pan of a right hand viciously chopped Chelsea’s youthful chest, bringing her down to both knees as the impact fully resounded.

Clutching her obviously throbbing sternum, she finally coughed out a pained yelp as he towered over her dangerously, his fists clenching in perverse anticipation.

Watching her continue to groan and gasp for air, he cracked his neck as his opponent’s pain and suffering naturally bored him.

“Get up,” he barked down at her.

Deepening his scowl as she continued clinging onto the bottom ropes, he repeated much more forcefully, “I SAID….GET UP!”

Not waiting for her to respond, he seized her by the hair and again brought her up on her now wobbly legs.

Looking deeply into her visibly shaken expression, the Mantaur couldn’t help but cock a smug grin across his grizzled features.

“We having fun yet, runt?” he told her, his black eyes burning right into her whimpering expression.

“Please….stop…..I give u-” Before she could finish her desperate plea, the Mantaur suddenly wrapped his hand around her windpipe, choking her yet again.

“I stop when I want to,” he snarled at her, his one-handed grip so powerful that it forced her down on her knees.

Pawing weakly at his bulging forearm, Chelsea’s face was growing redder than her cheerleader uniform by the second, and the Mantaur was relishing every moment of it.

Reluctantly letting go at the referee’s urging, he watched as she practically collapsed at her feet, audible heaving for her next breath.

“While you’re down there, runt, why don’t you do something for me….?”

Still massaging her already bruised throat, she slowly found the strength to look up as he pointed a finger towards the area of his body she was now level with.

His crotch.

“Take it out,” he instructed her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I ain’t gonna ask a second time.”

Now finding herself in a kneeling position, she frantically nodded her understanding and with trembling fingers slowly unzipped his pants.

Almost immediately, his equally monstrous manhood spilled out into the open, the long appendage nearly slapping her in the face!

Chelsea Cheer’s eyes bulged in pure fear of the footlong at half-mast currently staring back at her.

“Now get it hard, bitch,” he instructed her firmly, his tone suggesting that any additional comment on her behalf would not be wise.

Scooting forward, she reluctantly groped his monstrous shaft and then took him directly into her mouth.

The monster amongst men let out a very human moan as Chelsea’s youthful lips sensually traced the bulges on his foreskin, before partially filling her mouth with his girth.

Ignoring the demeaning hoots and hollers of the spectators, she continued to suck him off, inch by inch.

Grabbing her by the back of her head, he quickly asserted control of the tempo, pumping his dick in and out of her mouth at his own speed.

Fighting an instinctive gag reflex, she orally pleasured him until the Mantaur suddenly stiffened up and-

“Alright, that’s enough!” Unceremoniously piefacing her to the mat, he wore a look of satisfaction at his now fully erect cock pointing straight at the cowering cheerleader.

The arousal in his face lasted only a moment longer before being replaced by his signature rage.

“Let’s see how much more punishment you can take…” Bringing her back up to her feet, he lightly shoved her against the turnbuckle.

Putting all 12 inches of himself back in his pants, he again sized up the completely miserable Chelsea Cheer with that evil glint in his eyes.

Seconds later, it finally came to him.

Backing up, he cracked his neck eagerly before his back touched the turnbuckle from the other side of the ring.

With sinister eyes, he watched Chelsea barely able to hold herself upright, her arms desperately clinging on to the top ropes for any amount of stability.

Assuming a lunging stance from his corner, he licked his lips together as the crowd, recognizing what was about to happen, began to stomp their feet in unison.

Psyching himself up even more, he fed off the audience’s energy, and with the referee clearly out of his way, surged forward with the force of a wrecking ball.

Crossing the distance in a matter of seconds, the Mantaur became a masculine blur of violent intentions as he maneuvered his body mid-move for a momentous spear.

Roaring, he charged forward with his mountainous shoulders leading the way, and with a tremendous deal of momentum behind every step…..

…… proceeded to ram himself directly into the metallic ringpost!

Moving on sheer instinct, Chelsea Cheer threw herself to the right a literal splitsecond before he connected with his signature running shoulder thrust.

Instead of spearing her womanly flesh in half, the Mantaur was stopped cold by the ringpost catching him square on the forehead.

The ring literally shook as his monstrous frame collided with the metallic pole, with the pole not giving a single inch.

The man-beast, on the other hand…

“Ugghhhh….” His eyes fluttered groggily as the immediate impact reverberated through his entire body.

Hushed whispers and shocked glances flickered across the arena as the Mantaur’s gigantic arms dangled limply on the outside, his previously imposing posture now slumping into a dazed kneel against the turnbuckle.

Even the referee was surprised by this sudden turn of events, a look of legitimate shock written across her usually observant expression.

At that moment, everyone was still, simply processing what had just occurred right before their very eyes.

Everyone…..except Chelsea Cheer.

Pushing up on her hands and knees, the petite woman slowly but surely rose to her feet.

Staggering slightly from the punishment she had already endured at his monstrous hands, Chelsea finally righted herself, and a moment later, turned towards her opponent.

Where there once was fear in her eyes, there was now a cool confidence.

Her lips curled into a coy yet completely self-assured grin as she stared into the groggy form of the mighty Mantaur.

She had just gone through more hell in five minutes than most sexfighters would endure in a gauntlet match.

Her body was beaten, bruised, and degraded completely by his hand.

And yet, despite it all, she was smiling.

The crowd, still partially trying to process this sudden development, found their attention drawn away from the Mantaur as Chelsea began to cheerfully saunter towards the turnbuckle, her youthful hips once again generating that hypnotic pattern.

One slender leg crossed over the other as her dainty feet arched with every step, an mesmerizing strut of both girlish coyness, and womanly confidence.

“That looked like it hurt,” she commented playfully, teasingly running her manicured fingers down his muscled back.

Managing to groan weakly at her feminine touch, the Mantaur was still knocked sufficiently loopy from running headfirst into a metallic pole.

“You know…” Her fingers trailed down sensually, eventually hooking the waistband to his cargo pants. “You’ve got a real monster cock there, Mr. Mantaur.”

Going down on her knees, she slowly yanked down his pants all the way down to his ankles, revealing his bare legs, and more specifically, his still hard manhood.

There were multiple audible gasps in the crowd at the sheer audacity of the petite woman, to pull off such a dominant move as to forcibly undress her opponent, especially given the almost mythical stature of said opponent.

Reaching in between his meaty thighs, she probed around for a moment, before a grunt of realization from the brute gave her all the confirmation she needed.

“I think someone’s happy to see me,” she purred into his ear, her petite frame now sensually rubbing up against his bare back.

While one hand slid up and down his rather massive buttocks, the other hand began stroking up and down his very massive stalk, his foreskin already slick with precum from her forced fellatio just moments earlier.

Recognizing what was happening, the referee crouched into position as Chelsea’s hand continued gliding down his entire shaft.

“You think he’s got a little gift for me too?” she teased his ear, her lips seductively nibbling at his earlobe.

Initially, the Mantaur attempted to conceal his pleasure, focusing his efforts on pulling himself out of the corner and doing some truly heinous, evil things to this small, 100-pound woman currently jerking him off.

But, as the seconds went on, he found his Herculean strength, perhaps for the first time, failing him.

Now, all the machismo and raw aggression was now being converted by his opponent into something that had not been done to him, at least against his will, for a very long time: sexual pleasure.

What once was shock was now turning into awe as Chelsea Cheer fervently stroked his cock, alternating between more slow and smooth strokes and the much more forceful jerks up and down his foreskin.

Either way, it was having a more than visible effect on him, and his body language certainly was reflecting it.

“Fuck….fucking bitch….gonna...hurt you,” he gasped out in between reluctant gasps of arousal, the commanding base in his voice now gone.

“Oh, but you already tried that, sweetie. I don’t want to fight; I just want to make you feel good,” she cooed, her alluring, warm voice only complimented by her equally persuasive right hand on his cock.

Groaning out in frustration, he tried in vain one last time to push himself off the turnbuckle pads, and hopefully squishing Chelsea Cheer in the process.

Despite still being partially groggy, he had just enough strength stored to do it.

But then, mid-move, the hazel-haired vixen spoke those seductive words into his ear, “I know you’re enjoying this…enjoying my small, itty-bitty hand all over that big, bulging cock of yours.”

He froze, and Chelsea quickly took advantage.

Speeding up her erotic tempo, her hand now became a blur of sexual intensity as it furiously plied, pleasured, and utterly pumped his cock with everything she had.

Noticing his hips beginning to buck to her arm working tirelessly between them, she partially mounted him from behind, assuming the same dominant position that he had exhibited so many times before against his victims.

And unfortunately for him, it did him not favors having the woman suck him halfway to completion just moments before.

“Fuck…you fucking….no...can’t happen like this...” He almost whimpered against the turnbuckle, his muscled body betraying him for the first time.

“Oh, yes it can baby,” she cawed right back at him, her voice now a husky purr as she continued working his raging sex pillar, again and again, until finally….

“Oh…..fuck!” With one last gasp, one look of both disbelief and defeat etched across his grizzled features, the Mantaur exploded with a fury against Chelsea’s blur of a right hand.

A thick rope of his cum stained the nearby canvas as he remained limp against the turnbuckle, his cock surrendering everything and then some to the persistent cheerleader.

“That’s it, babe. Just let it all go. Just enjoy it…” Grinning from ear to ear, Chelsea Cheer continued pumping him for every last drop as the referee called for the bell.

The looks of shock on people’s faces quickly morphed into excited murmurs and scattered applause as the monster amongst men reached for the ropes for support while his opponent stood tall above him.

Licking her fingers clean of his creamy defeat, she glared down at the Mantaur with complete satisfaction while the ring announcer made a statement he never thought he would make.

“Winner of the first fall with a forced orgasm via handjob…” Almost in disbelief of what he was about to say, he nevertheless said it, “....CHELSEA CHEER!”

Those pockets of applause soon turned into the entire arena cheering this sudden change in the usual status quo: the prey had now become the predator before their very eyes!

“Wow, that was so fun!” Chelsea beamed, absolutely radiant in her girlish delirium as she struck an athletic pose in the center of the ring.

Of course, her happy-go-lucky demeanor was contrasted sharply by the Minotaur quickly shaking off the erotic spell her fingers had just cast on his loins, and immediately realizing what had just happened. What she had just done to him.

Finally extracting himself from the turnbuckle that singlehandedly cost him the fall, he looked at up at the beaming sexfighter with a mix of shock, indignation, and pure rage.

***

As the rest break concluded, those same three very combustible elements fueled the monstrous man’s every step as he stalked around every corner of the ring upon the ringing of the second ball.

Now actually skipping around the ring, Chelsea was certainly still riding high off her last victory, that cheerful grin plastered all over her face only further incensing the brute.

Angrily muttering to himself, he reflexively clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared her down, stopping only as his emotions finally got the better of him.

Telegraphing his own move, he suddenly roared and lunged at her with a sprawling clothesline locked and loaded in his left forearm.

But before he could fully pull the trigger, Chelsea ducked underneath his armpit and readied herself on his blindside.

Twirling around, he started towards her only to be met by a sharp superkick hitting him square in the gut.

Grunting inwardly as he slightly bent over to favor his sternum, his now lowered posture allowed Chelsea to seize the opportunity with the same leg and-

“Heads up!” Her words were punctuated by the top of her bare foot catching him right between the eyes, eliciting a distinct smack of flesh against flesh.

Instantly shooting back up to full height, a flicker of pain registered in his facial expression, only for a moment, before being replaced by something else.

Looking down at her, his face was now rage in its purest form.

Chelsea’s grin vanished all the same as she realized the monster now towering above her had just taken a kick, perhaps her most one yet, right to the dome, and was still standing.

“You...fucking...cunt,” he snarled, suddenly lunging at her with both meaty arms reaching for her slender neck.

The confidence drained from her face as she instinctively threw herself to the canvas to avoid his initial grab, before quickly rolling underneath the ropes to the outside as the Mantaur kept coming at him.

Not at all deterred by her strategic retreat, he just as quickly exited the ropes in his own way and began to give chase to the now fleeing Chelsea Cheer.

Darting around the ringpost, she ran like her life (and career) depended upon it, because to some extent it certainly did.

But despite how fast her toned and athletic legs could carry her around the squared circle, the Mantaur was just that much quicker.

“C’mere!” Just as she rounded the third corner, he seized her by the hair once again, forcing her into a sudden stop.

Violently torquing her head back towards him, he grabbed her by the nape of her womanly neck with the other hand before lifting her off the mat and-

“Uggghhh…” Every inch of Chelsea’s womanly frame registered an agonizing pain as he ragdolled her backfirst into the guard rail, allowing the metallic barrier to help serve as a conduit for his current frustration.

Upon impact, she achingly arched her spine on the floor but the Mantaur was not sympathetic in the least.

Picking her back up, he wasted no time throwing back into the ring before re-entering through the top and middle ropes.

Stalking intently around her writhing form, he visibly grumbled to himself reassuring comments to presumably offset the quite humiliating outcome of the last fall.

But, of course, nothing satisfied him more than grabbing a fistful of Chelsea’s hazel locks and forcing her into a sitting position.

With one hand threatening to almost cave in her skull, he used the other to grab her by the neck, lifting her off the mat and into the air.

Chelsea helplessly kicked her feet out as he now maintained a two-handed death grip on her neck, his determined dark eyes staring an intense hole into her frantic and struggling expression.

Keeping her in his grip for a moment longer, he relished her palpable fear a moment longer before suddenly taking a step forwards and throwing her backfirst into the nearest turnbuckle.

Her head snapped backwards violently as her spine absorbed the full impact, leaving the shockwaves of the elevated throw to reverberate from head to toe.

Slumping down on her shapely posterior, she could do little more than look on weakly as the monster approached with evil in his eyes and payback in his fists.

“I’m...not...finished...with you,” he snarled through gritted teeth, grabbing her out of the corner and dragging her battered body right back to the center of the ring.

Forcibly cupping her chin, he forced her to stare directly at his unflinching expression as a devilish grin etched across his rugged features.

“Let’s see you cheer after this, runt,” he taunted her, then taking her head and forcing in right between his legs.

Putting Chelsea Cheer into the patented powerbomb position, the Mantaur looked down with sadistic satisfaction as her body remained in a dazed kneel.

But, nothing satisfied him more than wrapping his mountainous arms around her waist, cracking his neck, and then starting to lift her off the mat.

“Get ready to-uggghhh…” What was the beginnings of a confident diatribe quickly tapered off into a pained wince as the man-beast looked down, and saw Chelsea grinning up at him knowingly, her manicured fingers now tightly squeezing his package.

“Oh, I’m ready,” she tauntingly finished for him, executing her unorthodox yet undeniably effective vice grip over him with deceivingly sweet pleasure.

“You fucking-”

She mercilessly squeezed his testicles yet again, forcing him to grunt out his next response instead.

“You know what I really like, big boy?”

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna...fuck….fuck,” he could barely even finish his thoughts as her vice grip over his crotch only intensified, the barely concealed pain on the Mantaur’s face indicating that he was feeling sensations he had never felt more in a match.

“I like it when I get to fight a big, strong man…” Slowly standing up, her lips curled into a sly grin, “And take his big, strong dick in my little bitty hand, and then...do this…”

At least half the audience, specifically the male portion, sympathetically grimaced as Chelsea Cheer, now grabbing the monster figuratively and literally by the balls, did what no other woman had done before him.

With one final, almost crippling squeeze, she brought the mighty Mantaur to his knees.

A pained howl finally escaped his lips as his legs buckled, finally bringing the six-footer plus level with the much smaller sexfighter.

Both hands weakly grabbed at his aching groin, the monster amongst men was now fighting back tears as Chelsea, in sharp contrast, was bouncing up and down on her toes in complete joy.

“You know what?” she remarked, leering at her now reeling opponent. “I am feeling a cheer coming on. Wanna hear?”

“You...fucking-” He never finished the sentence because Chelsea’s bare foot suddenly smashed right into his mouth!

His entire frame was visibly rocked as she delivered the surprise superkick, catching him as well as the entire arena off guard.

But, Chelsea Cheer was far from done.

“Give me a U!”

She kicked him yet again in the mouth, this one even stronger than the first.

He tried to bring up his arms and catch the next one, but she instead redirected the next one into a spinning heel kick that caught him plush in the jaw.

“Give me a F!”

Smack! Another kick.

Noticing his arms now hanging limply by his sides, she grabbed hold of both his masculine wrists, and keeping him in position, nimbly lifted up her front leg so that her sole was now facing his groggy expression.

Grinning openly, she let the visual sink in before stomping mercilessly on his unprotected face.

“Give me a U!”

Stomp!

“Give me a C!”

Stomp!

“Give me a K!”

Stomp!

“Give me an E!”

Stomp!

“Give me a D!”

Stomp!

“Give me a U!”

Stomp!

“Give me a P!”

Stomp!

Stopping after her kicking clinic threatened to go into double digits, Chelsea let his limp arms fall by the wayside and casually walked up to the now groggy and most certainly disoriented Mantaur, still on his knees.

Having absorbed the full onslaught of her deceptively powerful kicks, he was literally swaying back and forth in a dazed stupor, only held up by whatever willpower he still had left.

Now just inches away from him, Chelsea affectionately steadied his jaw with both hands and whispered into his ear, “What’s that spell?”

“I...fucked up.” The words came out of his mouth before he even realized he was speaking.

She grinned at him, playfully stroking his beard. “Good. Now, time to go night-night.”

Lightly shoving him down to the mat, she giggled at her petite footprint now stamped visibly across his facial features.

His face now crimson with various bruises and blotches, he looked up weakly, not even fully aware of what was happening, when Chelsea’s youthful form suddenly filled his view.

Walking dominantly on his chest, she rested both feet on either side of his blank expression, and without a second thought, jumped up into the air before crashing her body right on his unsuspecting face.

The referee nearly flinched as Chelsea landed assfirst on his face in an impressive split, her slender legs spreading out to the side as her skirt covered the remainder of his red face.

Grinning from corner to corner, she reached inside her skirt, and winking seductively at the camera, parted her panties to the side unveiling her naked pussy.

The only audible sound in the ring was of the Mantaur loudly grunting in protest as her vaginal muscles stretched over his mouth and nose, suffocating him.

Sinking lower and lower until her feminine peach filled out of his senses, she slowly began to gyrate in sexual pleasure to his physical pain.

“Oh, fuck yeah…” Sighing in ecstasy, she maintained her athletic throatsit even as the Mantaur’s tongue inadvertently massaged her pussy lips.

Even rocking her hips back and forth over his chin and nose, it was almost surreal to see….the diminutive and dainty woman actually dominating the man-beast and actually using him for her own pleasure!

An observation certainly not lost on the onlooking spectators, there was a growing pro-Chelsea sentiment in the arena as the Mantaur’s grunts and groans weakened while her moans of arousal only grew louder.

Clenching her vaginal muscles even tighter over his facial features, she was now unapologetically fucking his face, and soon enough the crown began to cheer her dominance.

Arching her back, she roughly grabbed him by the base of his skull to keep his face firmly planted right between her tight buttocks until finally….

With one last defeated grunt, the Mantaur succumbed to her vaginal verocity, his eyes rolling to the back of his head just as she started to reach her own climax.

Stepping in, the referee checked his pulse as Chelsea Cheer, sensing him fade away, crawled down his stomach and allowed the official to confirm it.

Certainly surprised more so than usual, the striped woman performed the required 10-count, but the Mantaur didn’t even move a muscle between 1 and 10.

Springing up to her feet, she cocked one hip to the side and acted as if she had just won a national cheerleader conference when the second, and final bell rung.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” Conferring briefly with the referee, the ring announcer cleared his throat and announced, “The winner of the second fall, with a knockout via pussy smother, and winner of the match….”

At the top of his lungs, he bellowed out, “CHELSEA CHEER!!!”

The Mantaur remained unconscious and sexually degraded as the referee raised Chelsea’s hand in victory, signifying the end of his undefeated streak much to the shock and eventual approval of the audience.

Confidently petting her flowering, monster-killing femininity, the sexfighter was all smiles as she skipped and performed cartwheels around his beaten body.

It was finally over…

__________________

…. for both Melanie and Daniel Derrick.

Sitting down in her locker room, the television now played highlights from the match as Melanie fully digested what she had just seen.

It was certainly a lot to take in, for both rookies.

Leaning back on her chair, she ran a worried hand through her blonde locks before glancing at her training partner.

Meeting her gaze as well, Dan Danger only had one thing to say.

“Welp…” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he told her very candidly, “You’re fucked.”

______________________________

Author's Note: Firstly, thanks so much to Silnafawn for lending me his ideas in creating this match!

Match Psychology: Within the context of a sexfighting league, I tried to make this the most realistic and believable that I could without severely overpowering/underpowering either combatant. Obviously, Mantaur comes into this match very cocky, having left a trail of beaten and sexually ravaged female bodies in his wake. He takes one look at Chelsea, and just sees another victim. And Chelsea uses that to his advantage by playing the victim at the start. She takes a ton of punishment, lets him get a bit too cocky, and then, when he goes for a high-risk move and misses, that's when the real Chelsea Cheer comes out. From then on out, she shakes his confidence with a forced orgasm in the corner, then, when his emotions get the better of him in the second fall, gets her second advantage and takes the overall victory.

So, with that being said, coming up is Chelsea/Bux. I imagine that Mel's going to be studying this tape very closely leading up to the match, but in the meanwhile, thanks again for reading and feel free to comment/PM!
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Old 04-Apr-19, 03:58
Turtleshell Turtleshell is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

Holy smokes! What an incredible story. This is by far my favourite of them all and they're all really good. Hope we get to see Mantaur attempt to regain his dignity in the future.
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Old 04-Apr-19, 04:39
Kwellmancpa Kwellmancpa is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

This story totally was the best so far in this series. I love the style of the smaller petite female being overwhelmed and powered and gradually using her assets to gain the advantage and eventually the win over bigger stronger male. All the stories in this series are great but this one was by far my favorite.
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Old 04-Apr-19, 10:37
brick1960 brick1960 is offline
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

Awesome story loved the finish!
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Old 04-Apr-19, 12:05
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Default Re: Tales of the Sex Fighting League

I barely know what to say about this installment, mate. At first, when Mantaur was overwhelming Chelsea and slamming her from pillar to post, it was getting really uncomfortable to read. I could really imagine Braun Strowman using his hulking size to crush Naomi Swann, and it was starting to verge on sickening. But then Chelsea moved and the metal ring post was imprinted with Mantaur's brutish face. The mind games, inspired taunting and skilled hands of Chelsea turned the swollen symbol of manhood into a vulnerability and she stole the first fall. At least, that is what it looked like. The furious Mantaur seemed assured of a savage vengeance in the second fall, but again he was outsmarted and suffered the ultimate humiliation under her cheerleader skirt. I love that you ended the fight with this move. Thank you so much.

Melanie is going to be in for a hell of a fight. When Bux defeated the Goddess, I think it was because the veteran underestimated the rookie. I don't think Chelsea is going to make this kind of mistake. The cheerleader seems very methodical and focused, and as we saw in this match she can clearly take far more punishment than Melanie is going to be able to dish out. I wish Bux all the best of luck because I think she is going to need it.

Thank you, mate.
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