Fyre’s Fight Journal — Chapter 4: Suburban Savagery by FyreCracka

Since my win over Amy, I’m feeling confident with my little 2 fight win streak. So I finally start perusing the ‘Catfight’ app looking to issue my first challenge to another woman. Before I can settle on an opponent, I receive a challenge.

The profile of the woman issuing the challenge, the Hellcat Housewife, shows that she is another local lady. She is listed as 5’7″, 135 lbs, 44 years old with a record of 8 wins and 3 losses. The type of match requested is listed as ‘Catfight’…aren’t they all, I think to myself.

I send the reply accepting the challenge and almost instantly I receive a notification to meet in 10 minutes and discuss the rules at a park about a block away. That’s a bit bold, I thought to myself, but I’ve already dropped the little one off, so why not?

I get to the neighborhood park and see that there are a few other people there which is comforting. Because meeting some internet stranger at a desolate park sounds like a good way to end up as the subject of an unsolved mystery on Dateline or 20/20. I walk to the agreed upon spot and see someone I know….great just what I need, one of the ladies from the neighborhood seeing me meeting with my next opponent,

“Hi Kelli, or should I say….Fyre?” says a woman I know as Patricia.

 “Um….I ….uh…well….” I stutter and stammer trying to find the words that are escaping me in my moment of surprise.

“I knew it was you….you shouldn’t have left your wedding ring on in your profile body pic….I’d recognize that little diamond anywhere” Patricia says smugly.

Calming my nerves, I respond “Well, Trish, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one into this, I-“.

She cuts me off “My friends call me Trish….you’re not my friend”.

“Tri- I mean Patricia, what’s with the attitude, I know we’ve never been close. But I always thought we got along.” I asked.

“Look, I’ve never liked you…and just because my husband is your husband’s boss, it doesn’t mean that we are friends or even on the same level…in fact I’d say that means you’re down a few levels from me” she says, almost spitting the words out in disgust.

I try reasoning with her, “I always thought we were at least cordial, we always found time time to talk at yoga or spin class, didn’t we?”

“How would you know?…you haven’t been exactly religious about hitting the gym lately- and your fat ass is reflective of that” she says tauntingly.

I’ve about had enough of her attitude and snap back, “What’s wrong with you, Trish? Our husbands our friends, we used to workout together. What happened.”

“Look bitch, I already told you once that you can’t call me Trish….and secondly, ever since you and your husband have been trying to get into country club, my husband sure seems to talk about you a lot….but the other night I heard him saying your name in his sleep. I went on the app, because I wanted to take it out on some poor unsuspecting slut….imagine my surprise, when I saw I get to take down the actual bitch herself” she says with an evident rage building.

I think to myself about how stupid this whole thing seems, but she has gotten my ire up and now I want to put this crazy ginger bitch in her place. “I’m sorry you’re not satisfying your husband, but understand this-neither am I and Jake has told me, from their after workout showers, that I wouldn’t be missing much…if you want a fight, you’ve got it…where and when”.

The blushing of her cheeks is amplified by Trish’s pale skin, letting me know I struck a nerve with that insult. Like a angry dog she almost barks her reply, “Ok, follow me to my house, we’ll do this in my backyard, right now – in case you get lost on the way, I’m sure you remember the house. It’s the big one on the 15th hole of the golf course, it’s Monday the course is closed and we’ll have plenty of privacy. Oh, and Kelli, the only rules will be no biting or eye gouging…and it ends when the winner accepts the loser’s surrender.”

Without pausing to consider anything, I snap back “You’re on! Bring it you psycho bitch”.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t as excited about this as I was worried. Normally, I wouldn’t even dream of having a match without discussing it with Jake. Interestingly enough, he was out working with her husband, Randall.

During the drive to her house, it dawns on me that I have just agreed to have my first real fight- with the wife of my husband’s boss no less. Sure, I’ve had couple of “fights’ but they were more wrestling matches and there has always been other people there in case things got out of hand.

We quickly arrive at Patricia’s large house on the golf course. She pulls into the garage and I park out front. I sit in my car, contemplating if I should really do this or not. I see the front door open and Trish stands there staring at me like she somehow knows I’m having doubts. “Your feet getting cold? Figures, you weak ass twat.” She shouts, her voice filled with contempt.

That seals it, this woman needs a lesson in manners. I grab my gym bag and head inside. She points to a guest bathroom, “you can change in there- try to look presentable, there will be cameras filming me kick your fat ass” she says icily. 

I storm into the bathroom to change. Fat ass?!?, I think to myself, so I haven’t been hitting the gym as much as her. I still have a flat stomach and Jake says he loves when my ass has the right amount of ‘jiggle’.

After I change into my workout clothes, navy blue boyshorts and a teal sports bra, I make my way to the backyard. Patricia is already waiting on me.  She is dressed similarly in a black sports bra and black shorts. Both of us are barefooted and have removed all jewelry. We stand facing each other, each of us evaluating the woman in front of us. Even though I have seen her dressed like this in the gym many times, I have never felt the need to really compare our bodies until today.

Now, stripped of high heels, form enhancing and hiding clothes, we get a chance to really compare with each other. At 5’7″, she is a little over an inch taller than me, her 135 pounds is leaner than my 145. Her pale body is more defined while mine is a bit softer, tan and “feminine”. Her short, curly, red hair makes her icy blue eyes stand out and ends just above her well defined shoulders. Whereas I think my blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that hangs to the middle of my shoulder blades gives me a more traditional “all American” look, even though I have brown eyes. I think the two biggest differences physically however, are that my legs are clearly bigger and more muscular and her ‘enhanced’ breasts- probably large Cs or small Ds compared my very average B cups.

“Alright Kelli…Fyre..or whatever you want to be called. Why don’t we up the stakes a bit with a bet?” Patricia says confidently.

“Like I need any more motivation to kick your arrogant ass” I reply back “but sure, lets hear it”.

“If by some sort of miracle your soft ass wins, not only will I make sure you’re accepted into the country club, I’ll even pay your dues….but when you inevitably beg me for mercy and I’ve had my fun and accept your submission, I get you husband. As many times as I want for the next year…and you have to watch and serve me when I ask during the act. I want you to know how it feels to have your man obsessed with another woman- as he undoubtedly will after I fuck his brains out” She proposes. “Your love versus my money…or are you too much of a coward?”

I don’t know what comes over me, most likely my anger at the nerve of that woman thinking I want her husband, but the thought of hanging out at the county club with Patricia in front of all of her friends and seeing her usually haughty attitude have to change when she knows that she’s around a woman who made her beg for mercy is too much for me to pass up. “Deal!” I say emphatically.

And with that, it’s like an imaginary bell rang signaling the start of the fight. We circle each other silently, the gravity of what is about to transpire evident in both of our eyes. I inch closer and closer trying to get to where I can grab her and make this a wrestling match like I’m comfortable with. Trisha is the first to swing. The punch lands squarely on the left side of my jaw. Its almost like a flash of light when it lands and I it staggers me. I never thought about it before but it is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been punched. As the coppery tasting blood oozes into my mouth, I find it reassuring that it makes me more mad that it scares me.

Patricia looks to very proud of landing that punch and is obviously amused by the shocked look on my face. In a rage, I let out a shriek and charge her. I take another glancing punch on the way in but my shoulder eventually buries in her stomach and I drive her to the ground. We land in the short grass and begin to roll around the grass in a blur of hairpulling,  body punches, and profanities. Words that should be beneath women of our standing and conservative community flow from our lips like we are sailors.

As the pace of the rolling brawl begins to slow, I’m pretty sure I’m getting the better of the exchange. Patricia’s punches seem like they are losing steam and mine continue to crash against her ribs and stomach with devastating effect. I decide to make my move to take control. I grab her wrists and slam her hands to the ground pinning them and mounting her chest. “Had enough, bitch?” I ask. “Fuck you, slut. I’m just getting started” she snaps back. “Fine, have it your way” I say.

I begin to slide into a grapevine pin and use my strong legs to punish, then finish this woman, but before I get a chance. I feel Trish’s knee violently strike my pussy. I howl in pain and let go of her wrists. Instinctively, both of my hands try in vain to soothe my womanhood and I am rolling on the lawn whimpering.

I’m not sure how long I try to comfort myself but it was long enough for Patricia to get back to her feet and compose herself. Out of the corner of my eye, I see here advancing but don’t have time to react before she punts my ribs with a soccer kick. I land flat on my back, gasping for air. I see Trish saunter over to me and looking down at me as I writhe in pain. Looking up, I see that Patricia’s body has red whelps all over from the punches I was landing as we rolled around. I find little consolation in this as I lay at her feet, moments away from her finishing me.

My eyes are closed as I await the inevitable. I feel my head yanked up by my now unkempt blonde hair. I grab her hands instinctively as I am dragged to my feet. “Look at me!!!….” she slaps my mouth, “open your eyes and fucking look at me!” Patricia authoritatively commands. I open my eyes and look defiantly at the older woman. She chuckles for a moment before speaking, “aww, the little bitch thinks she still has some Fight in her…”. She slaps me across the face again before continuing, “You’re going to learn your place here, before I’m done with you”. With that, there’s is a sickening thud, as her knee buries itself deep into my belly, dropping me to my knees. Her grip on my hair is the only thing holding me up.

I look up at her and weakly mumble “no…no…no more..” as my eyes begin to well with tears. “What did you say?…sorry I can’t hear you…that fat lip must be making it hard to talk, well at least it matches your fat ass” she snarls. Before I can answer and repeat my plea, she tauntingly slaps my face and slings me to the ground by my hair.

I land face down in the grass. I can hear Patricia breathing as she stalks me. I feebly paw the earth in front of me in an attempt to crawl away. “Where are you going, blondie?” My heart sinks as I feel her well manicured nails grab the top of my shorts. She starts yanking and ripping my shorts off.  Stopping to laugh when she gets them off of me and sees the tan lines on my now bare ass. “You’re almost as pale as me” she cackles. “This is going to look great on camera”.

Wanting to make my humiliation complete, she begins to yank at my top. As my top comes off I am, once again, pulled to my knees. Now kneeling completely naked in front of my foe, I feel beaten and demoralized…but I can’t suppress the rage I am feeling towards Patricia. She grabs me by jaw and pulls my gaze towards hers as she draws back her right fist.

“Alright you little twat, have you remembered your place?….have you learned your lesson? Or do I need to continue?” She says, every syllable drenched in arrogance. I want this to end almost worse than anything in the world…almost. Knowing that this might the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, I open my mouth to speak. Patricia’s eyes smile as she expects to hear me beg for mercy. “Kiss. My. Fat. Ass. Bitch” I spit out. Before she has a chance to react, I summon all of my strength and rage and unleash the fiercest uppercut I can throw striking Patricia flush in the crotch. She wails in pain, but I keep clawing and twisting her womanly virtue trough the thin material of the boy shorts.

Patricia doubles over in pain, laying on top my shoulders. Eventually, she sinks to her knees as well and we tumble to the ground again. Both of us roll away and slowly make our way back to our feet. “That’s gonna cost you, bitch” she screams at me, still massaging her private parts. I simply raise my fists into a boxer’s stance and motion her to come at me.

Like the two exhausted amazon warriors that we are, we slowly lumber towards each other knowing this fight is nearing its conclusion. We both trade several sloppy punches. None  of our punches land solidly but they are doing damage nonetheless, eliciting pained grunts and moans when they hit. Then it happens, Patricia throws a wild haymaker and misses leaving her  open. I sling an equally wild haymaker but it lands flush on her chin. She crumples into a stunned heap on the lawn.

I almost collapse on top of her, but I know that she is only stunned and if I want to win this I will need to keep fighting. I can see in her eyes that Patricia is clearly disoriented as I climb on top her. Exhausted, it’s almost all I can do to drape myself over her face, using every bit of my smaller breasts to smother her. She flails weakly once her air is cut off, but she soon slows and then stops. Her arms and legs laying motionless underneath me. I roll of her and see that she is still breathing.

I begin to regain strength as I see Patricia laying helplessly next to me. Looking at battered condition of my body, I realize again that I am naked. I start to get pissed when I remember how I’ve been humiliated today and start to repay the favor. I begin to pull her shorts and panties off, only stopping briefly when Patricia begins to regain consciousness. I quickly jump back on her belly, hearing her whimper as the air is forced out of her is pretty satisfying after the beginning of this fight. I land several punches to her ribs and slam her head into the grass a few times until she becomes docile again.

Now I get back to work removing her top. After liberating her large bolted on tits, I begin to slap and twist her nipples to wake my nemesis. Patricia moans and whimpers as she comes to. The look of surprise turning to terror as she realizes I’m sitting atop of her is priceless.

“Rise and shine, cupcake” I say mockingly. “Fucking bitch…get off of me….” she slurs groggily. My smile disappears as I begin to slam Patricia’s skull in to the ground until tears are streaming from her eyes and she is only able to make a barely audible moan. “Wrong answer, you ginger slut…give up now and it ends- or not, and I make you pay…oh and by the way, I’m sure the camera will love the view” I say as I playfully pat her exposed pussy.

As Patricia’s eyes regain focus, I grab her by the jaw and force her eyes to meet mine. “I’m not going to ask nicely again..” I say commandingly. I can see my opponent is groggy and weighing her options, it is one of the most satisfying moments of my life when I see the defeat settle into her blue eyes, now red from crying. Before she opens her mouth, I know this fight is over. My foe takes a deep breath and her voice is devoid of any defiance, sounding almost submissive as she says “Kelli…I give up, you win….can we please end this…I surrender”.

Looking at Patricia’s normally smug face staring up at me, her eyes almost begging me not to hurt her again moves me enough to accept her surrender. “Fine…its over…the only thing I want now is a copy of the tape of this fight” I say through my heavy breathing as my adrenaline dumps as my body realizes this brutal test is over.

I limp back to the bathroom to change clothes. I look over my body, beyond just the smears of mud and dirt, it is covered in red whelps. It’s a laborious task just to get dressed. I finally get the courage up to look in the mirror. My lip is indeed swollen, but it is nice to see that it didn’t bleed other than in my mouth. My hair is wrecked, it is matted from sweat and dirt with bits of grass all over- not to mention, my scalp is sore. No doubt from the brutal hairpulling I’ve just endured. I’m fairly positive that there is almost as many strands of my hair in the grass as there is pieces of grass in my hair.

I return to the backyard to pick up the video of the fight. Patricia is still nude, looking like she has barely been able to make it the 15 yards to where the receiver where the cameras were recording to. She doesn’t look me in the eyes as she hands me the memory stick. The mud, dirt, and whelps look even more pronounced on her pale skin. I take my copy of the recording without a word and start to leave. I look back at one point and Patricia is still stilling slumped in a lawn chair, looking completely defeated. She never looks up or says a word to me as I leave.

A few weeks later I get a letter in the mail saying Jake and I have been accepted as members- and all dues paid. We run into Randall and Patricia maybe even more now that we see each other at the club. The men both know that we fight other women, they are usually present. So we didn’t get a bunch of questions about the marks on our bodies. I have shown Jake the video, it’s probably his favorite of my matches to watch. He says he was really proud of my heart. He also says that Randall is clueless that Patricia and I have fought, he thinks she was just being nice when she decided to sponsor us for the club.
It’s one of my bigger joys to walk into the gym, or club when Trisha is being her typical, tough talking, bragging self and she sees me and becomes downright meek in my presence. She was right about somebody learning their place, but I bet she never dreamed it would be her.

Now that my body has healed, I’ve started browsing the catfight app again. I know one day soon I’ll find my next adventure.

Continued in Chapter 5! Click Here to Read It

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