Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners.
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Hero Wrestling League
The lights were bright, blinding her. She was on her back upon the canvas, having lost her jacket and covered in sweat-her clothes sticking to her skin. She could barely hear the crowd, her mind knowing one thing: she was going to lose.
Even knowing what she was getting into, she had been too slow, her opponent too fast and too used to this kind of environment. All her skill and experience was useless to even do anything as she was pummeled, beaten and battered until she fell to where she was now.
She tried to stand, not seeing the shadow entering her vision, its silhouette blocking the lights overhead before a familiar ass drops itself against her face. Surprised, her hands move to push the pale flesh away in an effort to free herself, to no avail.
The blonde only pushes back harder in return, her weight like a machine press. Her own attempts to escape only grow more frantic as the scent of sweat and bodily fluids fill her nose, every second pressing her further into the thong-clad ass denying her battered body precious air.
Her efforts are commendable but they weren’t enough.
With a moan, Jirou’s eyes glaze over and roll up into her skull, her arms drop to the canvas as tears and thick lines of drool run down her cheeks as she succumbed to her defeat.
Barely conscious, she doesn’t notice the red blur behind the curtain before everything goes black.
Behind said curtain, Momo could only watch as Jirou’s body goes limp, her blonde opponent gyrates on her face in a show of dominance. The crowd roaring even as the referee declares her victory.
Tall, buxom and clad in a spandex leotard, the one named Camie only smiles as she lifts the unresponsive Ear Jack-User off the growing pool of spit, using her hair like a rag to wipe the drool left on her ass. The crowd only laughs at her humiliation.
She sees her carry Jirou over her head-presenting her like a prized catch-and playing with her limp form; carrying her like a potato sack, wedging her shorts between her ass cheeks and tossing her around the ring before carelessly throwing her over the ropes onto one of the corners, this one bearing a banner with Shiketsu Academy’s logo overhead.
Underneath, a large box with glass sides revealing its contents: a pile of similarly unconscious, scantily-clad contenders-some of them UA alumni.
Jirou’s body arcs onto the pile, landing belly-to-belly on top of one in a blue bodysuit and beige stockings, their heads in the other’s apex.
Momo sighed. They were not faring well.
Two days ago, she had received an invitation to an event exclusive to the female members of the Hero community-one that needed the utmost secrecy.
It had been years since her graduation and though she had managed to stay in contact with her friends, work seldom left time for any of them to meet. So, in her delight, she accepted.
To her surprise, the venue she arrived in was not for a reunion but for a wrestling competition, complete with its own rules and regulations, penalties, and ridiculous costumes.
A competition where UA held a long losing streak.
While UA was known to produce some of the best Heroes in Japan, their methods didn’t translate well to competitive wrestling. As a result, they had gone on to lose every single tournament; every competitor under UA’s banner defeated in humiliating fashion.
This year was no different.
Mina was the first to go, quickly overwhelmed when her opponent-an absolutely voluptuous blonde in a white bodysuit and blue gloves and boots-had managed to get into her guard with a massive uppercut, leaving her open to a barrage of body slams and piledrivers. A final German Suplex mercifully rendering her unconscious. Her body-clad in a leotard and stockings in her colors-at the bottom of Seiai’s pile.
Ochaco was next. While managing a win in her first match against a slender brunette in a black and yellow bodysuit, she had been folded like a pretzel-her ankles forced behind her head-before being put to sleep by a muscular green-skinned woman in a ripped white and purple leotard with insulting ease. Under Ketsubutsu’s banner, only her arms and legs were visible among the pile of bodies.
Then followed by Tsuyu, Nejire, Setsuna, Tooru and, recently, Jirou. Each one in a different pile but beaten all the same.
Looking down, she examines herself: a tall form with legs for miles, a pair of wide hips and a buxom chest most women would envy. All framed sensually by a ridiculously tight, red leotard-sans belt-customized to show off more skin especially around hips, chest and ass and black stockings peeking under red thigh boots.
A tap on her shoulder pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks over her shoulder and sees a woman with long black hair and a familiar corset-Midnight.
“Your turn, my dear,” she said to her, the tone in her voice sounding like she doesn’t want her to win. Then again, she’s seen Midnight practically orgasm during her match last year
Nodding, she exits the curtain and her ears are hit by the cacophony of their cries but she doesn’t hear them. She does not hear the announcer’s voice as she is given her introduction.
Her eyes are only on the ring and her opponent.
Hopefully, she would turn the tide.
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Hero Wrestling League
The lights were bright, blinding her. She was on her back upon the canvas, having lost her jacket and covered in sweat-her clothes sticking to her skin. She could barely hear the crowd, her mind knowing one thing: she was going to lose.
Even knowing what she was getting into, she had been too slow, her opponent too fast and too used to this kind of environment. All her skill and experience was useless to even do anything as she was pummeled, beaten and battered until she fell to where she was now.
She tried to stand, not seeing the shadow entering her vision, its silhouette blocking the lights overhead before a familiar ass drops itself against her face. Surprised, her hands move to push the pale flesh away in an effort to free herself, to no avail.
The blonde only pushes back harder in return, her weight like a machine press. Her own attempts to escape only grow more frantic as the scent of sweat and bodily fluids fill her nose, every second pressing her further into the thong-clad ass denying her battered body precious air.
Her efforts are commendable but they weren’t enough.
With a moan, Jirou’s eyes glaze over and roll up into her skull, her arms drop to the canvas as tears and thick lines of drool run down her cheeks as she succumbed to her defeat.
Barely conscious, she doesn’t notice the red blur behind the curtain before everything goes black.
Behind said curtain, Momo could only watch as Jirou’s body goes limp, her blonde opponent gyrates on her face in a show of dominance. The crowd roaring even as the referee declares her victory.
Tall, buxom and clad in a spandex leotard, the one named Camie only smiles as she lifts the unresponsive Ear Jack-User off the growing pool of spit, using her hair like a rag to wipe the drool left on her ass. The crowd only laughs at her humiliation.
She sees her carry Jirou over her head-presenting her like a prized catch-and playing with her limp form; carrying her like a potato sack, wedging her shorts between her ass cheeks and tossing her around the ring before carelessly throwing her over the ropes onto one of the corners, this one bearing a banner with Shiketsu Academy’s logo overhead.
Underneath, a large box with glass sides revealing its contents: a pile of similarly unconscious, scantily-clad contenders-some of them UA alumni.
Jirou’s body arcs onto the pile, landing belly-to-belly on top of one in a blue bodysuit and beige stockings, their heads in the other’s apex.
Momo sighed. They were not faring well.
Two days ago, she had received an invitation to an event exclusive to the female members of the Hero community-one that needed the utmost secrecy.
It had been years since her graduation and though she had managed to stay in contact with her friends, work seldom left time for any of them to meet. So, in her delight, she accepted.
To her surprise, the venue she arrived in was not for a reunion but for a wrestling competition, complete with its own rules and regulations, penalties, and ridiculous costumes.
A competition where UA held a long losing streak.
While UA was known to produce some of the best Heroes in Japan, their methods didn’t translate well to competitive wrestling. As a result, they had gone on to lose every single tournament; every competitor under UA’s banner defeated in humiliating fashion.
This year was no different.
Mina was the first to go, quickly overwhelmed when her opponent-an absolutely voluptuous blonde in a white bodysuit and blue gloves and boots-had managed to get into her guard with a massive uppercut, leaving her open to a barrage of body slams and piledrivers. A final German Suplex mercifully rendering her unconscious. Her body-clad in a leotard and stockings in her colors-at the bottom of Seiai’s pile.
Ochaco was next. While managing a win in her first match against a slender brunette in a black and yellow bodysuit, she had been folded like a pretzel-her ankles forced behind her head-before being put to sleep by a muscular green-skinned woman in a ripped white and purple leotard with insulting ease. Under Ketsubutsu’s banner, only her arms and legs were visible among the pile of bodies.
Then followed by Tsuyu, Nejire, Setsuna, Tooru and, recently, Jirou. Each one in a different pile but beaten all the same.
Looking down, she examines herself: a tall form with legs for miles, a pair of wide hips and a buxom chest most women would envy. All framed sensually by a ridiculously tight, red leotard-sans belt-customized to show off more skin especially around hips, chest and ass and black stockings peeking under red thigh boots.
A tap on her shoulder pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks over her shoulder and sees a woman with long black hair and a familiar corset-Midnight.
“Your turn, my dear,” she said to her, the tone in her voice sounding like she doesn’t want her to win. Then again, she’s seen Midnight practically orgasm during her match last year
Nodding, she exits the curtain and her ears are hit by the cacophony of their cries but she doesn’t hear them. She does not hear the announcer’s voice as she is given her introduction.
Her eyes are only on the ring and her opponent.
Hopefully, she would turn the tide.
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