Something in the Water by BCW8

It sounded too good to be true.

Every photo of the resort was stunning.  The bungalows were luxurious and inviting.  The beach was pristine.  The ocean was a shade of teal rarely seen in nature.  The people were beautiful.  It was called Spice, and their tagline was Add Spice to Your Life.

Matt showed the website to Emily.  She agreed it looked amazing.  She hardly thought they needed spice, though. 

“It’s so expensive, Matt!” she said.  “What a dreamer you are.”

Matt was a dreamer, for sure, and he definitely thought they needed spice.   He and Emily had been a couple for six months now, and Emily was a beautiful woman and lovely person.  She was also dull as dirt and badly repressed.  She wore severe suits to work and sweats on weekends.  She literally only took her blonde hair down to wash it.  He had to coax her into sex, with a couple of glasses of wine and endless, start-and-stop foreplay.  The lights had to be off.  Once she took off her granny panties and practical bras, she had an amazing body, but she did nothing with it.  She laid stiff beneath him as he thrust into her, but rolled away and into the bathroom to wash as soon as he was done.  She never came herself.  Oral was out of the question, ewwwww.

Matt didn’t want a robot, but fuck, he did want a human.

When Emily wasn’t there, he entered the cheat code in the special offers box on the website.  The code that his friend Phil had given him, the one Phil said had changed his life.  A new webpage opened.  Turn Your Kitten into a Tigress, it said.  The specifics were frankly unbelievable.  Some kind of bullshit about pheromones and sex, chemical libidos, yada yada.  But then there was Phil, and his wife Connie, and Phil swore that once they were there, and even after they came home, Connie was an insatiable slut in the sheets.  “It was fucking worth every penny,” were his exact words.

Matt read the side effect list, too.  Hyper-aggression.  Violent temper/mood swings.  Yeah, sure, whatever.  Maybe Phil was full of shit, maybe there was something there, who could say?  But the place was gorgeous and sexy, that was absolutely clear.  It’s for her own good, he rationalized.  He made the reservation, for two.  Emily bought the story that he’d entered a prize drawing for a free four-day weekend.  They were off!

The bungalow was as beautiful as advertised.  It smelled amazing, some kind of sandalwood scent.  There was champagne on ice waiting for them, and it tasted like magic.  Matt sighed in deep contentment, and watched Emily unpack, carefully folding her sensible shorts and her one-piece swimsuit with a ruffled skirt.  When she finished, she stood and studied herself in the full-length mirror for a minute, then unpinned and shook out her hair.

They went to dinner at the lovely restaurant with a terrace overlooking the ocean.  Emily’s cheekbones were a little rouged; Matt couldn’t tell if it was make-up or her natural color, but he loved it, and he loved the way her hair fell across her eye when she laughed.

“You missed a button,” he told her.  She’d worn a blue cotton oxford with her white shorts, and a strand of pearls.  Very stylish, for her.  The top button was open, showing just a glimpse of her cleavage.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, and her lovely smile flashed just a hint of wolf.

The only thing in an otherwise perfect dinner was the thundercloud in her eyes when the waitress interrupted her to offer a dessert menu.

“Do you believe that bitch?” Emily said after they’d ordered tiramisu.  “How fucking rude!”

Bitch.  Fucking.  From Emily?

They walked the beach, holding hands.  Matt noticed at some point that a second button was open.  When the door to their bungalow closed behind them, Emily slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, softly.  She slid her hands up under his shirt.  Then her nails dug into his chest and she caught his lower lip between her teeth.

Wow.

She turned and now the she-wolf definitely inhabited her smile.  She walked toward the bed, unbuttoning her shirt.  The windows and blinds were open in the near-dusk, and she didn’t care.  She tossed the shirt aside, reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.  She turned to face him, and shimmied her shoulders, a lascivious sway in her breasts as she bared them.  Matt had never seen her nipples so hard.  She bent at her waist, her long legs straight, and slid her shorts and panties together to her ankles.  Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed, then pivoted, lifting her legs up onto the bed as she lay back, her back arched.  She spread her thighs, and met his eyes.

Wow fucking wow.

They’d been a couple for six months, so they’d had sex many times.  That was the first time she’d fucked him.  By the time they stopped, she’d fucked him six times.  He lost count of her orgasms.  The smell of sex mingled with the scent of the bungalow.  After six, she took him in her mouth and tried to make him hard again.  He couldn’t, but he tongue-fucked her to a final savage orgasm and then she let him sleep.

Worth every penny.

When Matt woke up, Emily was gone.  The note on the desk said gone shopping.  He laid back in bed, his cock sore but partly hard as he replayed the night in his head.  Fucking pheromones!  Better living through chemistry, indeed.

Emily burst into the room about a half-hour later, full of energy, her arms ringed with bags.

“Fashion show!” she sang.

More like a porn preview, Matt thought happily later.  Emily had modeled a cavalcade of slutty lingerie and a conga line of string bikinis, then rode his cock again.  His kitten was a tigress for sure, a tigress who now made very loud noises when she came.

She pulled him into the shower with her, telling him about her shopping trip while he soaped her breasts.

“Oh, and I stopped at the restaurant and had that little cxnt waitress fired!” Emily said.

“What?” Matt said.

“Fired.  And if I see her I’ll slap her fucking face.”

What the fuck.

They got ready for the beach.  Emily wore one of her new bikinis, a blue one.  The triangles of its top didn’t even cover her breasts entirely, leaving their undercurves showing.  She oiled her body lovingly, in front of the mirror.  Before they left, she took two bottles of water from the bungalow.  She said it was as good as the champagne.

The beach was long enough to remain uncrowded.  They picked a spot and dropped their blanket, basking in the sun.  They had a half-hour of blissful solitude.  Emily slid her hand into Matt’s trunks and lazily stroked his cock, her eyes half shut.  The wolf never left her smile now.

Their bliss was interrupted when a woman spread her towel on the sand not twenty feet away.  She looked openly at them.  Matt felt a surge of uneasiness when Emily tightened her fingers on his cock rather than removing her hand.

The other woman had dark hair, nearly black, in a short boyish cut.  There was nothing else boyish about her.  She was tanned where Emily was pale, but otherwise they were physical twins.  Her ass was perfect, her breasts barely contained in her bikini top.  She had a bottle of the resort’s water too.

Emily scowled at her.  “It’s a big beach,” she said pointedly.

“So move,” the brunette said.

Now, Emily took her hand out of Matt’s trunks.  Both her hands curled into fists as she sat up.

“No need to be a bitch about it,” she said sharply.

The brunette ignored her.  She looked at Matt, and smiled.  Two she-wolves.

“Hi,” she said.  “I’m Rikki.”

“Hi,” Matt said, a little reluctantly.  Stupidly, he offered a conversation starter.  “Here alone?”

“Yes,” Rikki sighed.  “I came with someone but he had to leave again, some kind of business thing, the bastard.  I’m left to fend for myself.”  She lowered her voice conspiratorially.  “Luckily, I’m very good at fending.”  She laughed.

Emily shifted her weight.  “Bitch, I cannot believe you are flirting with my boyfriend with me sitting right here!”

Rikki looked at her coldly.  “If you hadn’t called me bitch twice already, I wouldn’t have noticed you at all,” she said.

Both women got to their feet.  Both sets of nipples were tenting in their bikini tops.

Matt was slow.  This was fucking unreal.

Emily stepped forward, and the brunette met her halfway.

“Emily,” Matt said.  “For crying out loud.”

“Emily,” Rikki repeated.  “Let’s get one thing clear.  If I want to flirt with your boyfriend, I will.  If I want to fuck your boyfriend, I will.  Do you understand me, Emily?”

“If you touch him,” Emily said, and her voice was like nothing Matt had ever heard before.  “I will rip your tits off, slut.”

Matt managed to get between them then, and backed Emily up.  “You’d better go,” he said to Rikki over his shoulder.

“Fine,” she said.  “I’ll go.  To my bungalow.  Number 6.   Matt, you can remember that, can’t you?”  She took a deep drink from her water bottle.  He made himself not look at her ass as she walked away.

Back in their bungalow, Emily raged, flinging her suitcase across the room.  “That cxnt,” she shrieked.  “How dare she?!”  Matt tried to hold her, to calm her down.  She didn’t want that.  She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand to her bikini panties.  They were soaking wet.  She tugged the knot at one hip untied and pushed his fingers into her. 

“Oh goddddd,” she moaned.  “Fuck me, Matt.”

He did, standing up, against the wall.

Afterwards, Emily fell asleep.  Neither of them had slept much the night before, after all.

Matt lay next to her, his brain whirling.  Jesus fucking christ it was all true.  Something in this place, the air, the fucking water, had changed Emily. He loved the crazy filthy sex, but what else was happening to her?  He decided to find the resort manager, to talk about this – it was insane.

Then, part way to the reception building, he realized he was passing Bungalow 7.  Bungalow 6 was next.  Impulsively, he decided to stop, to warn Rikki just to avoid Emily, that she wasn’t herself.  Fuck, that maybe she wasn’t even stable.

Rikki answered the door, topless.  Her nipples were perfect, little brown kisses with silver bars pierced through them.  “Hello, Matt,” she said, and closed her hand on his cock.  “You took long enough!”  She left the door wide open, and dropped to a deep crouch in front of him.  Matt had fucked Emily ten times in the last eighteen hours, the last time less than forty-five minutes ago.  And yet, in Rikki’s expert mouth he was hard in seconds.  Maybe it doesn’t just work on women, he thought.

“She can’t say I didn’t warn her.”

Emily’s voice was so close behind him that he jumped. 

It sounded too good to be true.

Every photo of the resort was stunning. The bungalows were luxurious and inviting. The beach was pristine. The ocean was a shade of teal rarely seen in nature. The people were beautiful. It was called Spice, and their tagline was Add Spice to Your Life.

Matt showed the website to Emily. She agreed it looked amazing. She hardly thought they needed spice, though.

“It’s so expensive, Matt!” she said. “What a dreamer you are.”

Matt was a dreamer, for sure, and he definitely thought they needed spice. He and Emily had been a couple for six months now, and Emily was a beautiful woman and lovely person. She was also dull as dirt and badly repressed. She wore severe suits to work and sweats on weekends. She literally only took her blonde hair down to wash it. He had to coax her into sex, with a couple of glasses of wine and endless, start-and-stop foreplay. The lights had to be off. Once she took off her granny panties and practical bras, she had an amazing body, but she did nothing with it. She laid stiff beneath him as he thrust into her, but rolled away and into the bathroom to wash as soon as he was done. She never came herself. Oral was out of the question, ewwwww.

Matt didn’t want a robot, but fuck, he did want a human.

When Emily wasn’t there, he entered the cheat code in the special offers box on the website. The code that his friend Phil had given him, the one Phil said had changed his life. A new webpage opened. Turn Your Kitten into a Tigress, it said. The specifics were frankly unbelievable. Some kind of bullshit about pheromones and sex, chemical libidos, yada yada. But then there was Phil, and his wife Connie, and Phil swore that once they were there, and even after they came home, Connie was an insatiable slut in the sheets. “It was fucking worth every penny,” were his exact words.

Matt read the side effect list, too. Hyper-aggression. Violent temper/mood swings. Yeah, sure, whatever. Maybe Phil was full of shit, maybe there was something there, who could say? But the place was gorgeous and sexy, that was absolutely clear. It’s for her own good, he rationalized. He made the reservation, for two. Emily bought the story that he’d entered a prize drawing for a free four-day weekend. They were off!

The bungalow was as beautiful as advertised. It smelled amazing, some kind of sandalwood scent. There was champagne on ice waiting for them, and it tasted like magic. Matt sighed in deep contentment, and watched Emily unpack, carefully folding her sensible shorts and her one-piece swimsuit with a ruffled skirt. When she finished, she stood and studied herself in the full-length mirror for a minute, then unpinned and shook out her hair.

They went to dinner at the lovely restaurant with a terrace overlooking the ocean. Emily’s cheekbones were a little rouged; Matt couldn’t tell if it was make-up or her natural color, but he loved it, and he loved the way her hair fell across her eye when she laughed.

“You missed a button,” he told her. She’d worn a blue cotton oxford with her white shorts, and a strand of pearls. Very stylish, for her. The top button was open, showing just a glimpse of her cleavage.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, and her lovely smile flashed just a hint of wolf.

The only thing in an otherwise perfect dinner was the thundercloud in her eyes when the waitress interrupted her to offer a dessert menu.

“Do you believe that bitch?” Emily said after they’d ordered tiramisu. “How fucking rude!”

Bitch. Fucking. From Emily?

They walked the beach, holding hands. Matt noticed at some point that a second button was open. When the door to their bungalow closed behind them, Emily slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, softly. She slid her hands up under his shirt. Then her nails dug into his chest and she caught his lower lip between her teeth.

Wow.

She turned and now the she-wolf definitely inhabited her smile. She walked toward the bed, unbuttoning her shirt. The windows and blinds were open in the near-dusk, and she didn’t care. She tossed the shirt aside, reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. She turned to face him, and shimmied her shoulders, a lascivious sway in her breasts as she bared them. Matt had never seen her nipples so hard. She bent at her waist, her long legs straight, and slid her shorts and panties together to her ankles. Finally, she sat on the edge of the bed, then pivoted, lifting her legs up onto the bed as she lay back, her back arched. She spread her thighs, and met his eyes.

Wow fucking wow.

They’d been a couple for six months, so they’d had sex many times. That was the first time she’d fucked him. By the time they stopped, she’d fucked him six times. He lost count of her orgasms. The smell of sex mingled with the scent of the bungalow. After six, she took him in her mouth and tried to make him hard again. He couldn’t, but he tongue-fucked her to a final savage orgasm and then she let him sleep.

Worth every penny.

When Matt woke up, Emily was gone. The note on the desk said gone shopping. He laid back in bed, his cock sore but partly hard as he replayed the night in his head. Fucking pheromones! Better living through chemistry, indeed.

Emily burst into the room about a half-hour later, full of energy, her arms ringed with bags.

“Fashion show!” she sang.

More like a porn preview, Matt thought happily later. Emily had modeled a cavalcade of slutty lingerie and a conga line of string bikinis, then rode his cock again. His kitten was a tigress for sure, a tigress who now made very loud noises when she came.

She pulled him into the shower with her, telling him about her shopping trip while he soaped her breasts.

“Oh, and I stopped at the restaurant and had that little cxnt waitress fired!” Emily said.

“What?” Matt said.

“Fired. And if I see her I’ll slap her fucking face.”

What the fuck.

They got ready for the beach. Emily wore one of her new bikinis, a blue one. The triangles of its top didn’t even cover her breasts entirely, leaving their undercurves showing. She oiled her body lovingly, in front of the mirror. Before they left, she took two bottles of water from the bungalow. She said it was as good as the champagne.

The beach was long enough to remain uncrowded. They picked a spot and dropped their blanket, basking in the sun. They had a half-hour of blissful solitude. Emily slid her hand into Matt’s trunks and lazily stroked his cock, her eyes half shut. The wolf never left her smile now.

Their bliss was interrupted when a woman spread her towel on the sand not twenty feet away. She looked openly at them. Matt felt a surge of uneasiness when Emily tightened her fingers on his cock rather than removing her hand.

The other woman had dark hair, nearly black, in a short boyish cut. There was nothing else boyish about her. She was tanned where Emily was pale, but otherwise they were physical twins. Her ass was perfect, her breasts barely contained in her bikini top. She had a bottle of the resort’s water too.

Emily scowled at her. “It’s a big beach,” she said pointedly.

“So move,” the brunette said.

Now, Emily took her hand out of Matt’s trunks. Both her hands curled into fists as she sat up.

“No need to be a bitch about it,” she said sharply.

The brunette ignored her. She looked at Matt, and smiled. Two she-wolves.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Rikki.”

“Hi,” Matt said, a little reluctantly. Stupidly, he offered a conversation starter. “Here alone?”

“Yes,” Rikki sighed. “I came with someone but he had to leave again, some kind of business thing, the bastard. I’m left to fend for myself.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Luckily, I’m very good at fending.” She laughed.

Emily shifted her weight. “Bitch, I cannot believe you are flirting with my boyfriend with me sitting right here!”

Rikki looked at her coldly. “If you hadn’t called me bitch twice already, I wouldn’t have noticed you at all,” she said.

Both women got to their feet. Both sets of nipples were tenting in their bikini tops.

Matt was slow. This was fucking unreal.

Emily stepped forward, and the brunette met her halfway.

“Emily,” Matt said. “For crying out loud.”

“Emily,” Rikki repeated. “Let’s get one thing clear. If I want to flirt with your boyfriend, I will. If I want to fuck your boyfriend, I will. Do you understand me, Emily?”

“If you touch him,” Emily said, and her voice was like nothing Matt had ever heard before. “I will rip your tits off, slut.”

Matt managed to get between them then, and backed Emily up. “You’d better go,” he said to Rikki over his shoulder.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go. To my bungalow. Number 6. Matt, you can remember that, can’t you?” She took a deep drink from her water bottle. He made himself not look at her ass as she walked away.

Back in their bungalow, Emily raged, flinging her suitcase across the room. “That cxnt,” she shrieked. “How dare she?!” Matt tried to hold her, to calm her down. She didn’t want that. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand to her bikini panties. They were soaking wet. She tugged the knot at one hip untied and pushed his fingers into her.

“Oh goddddd,” she moaned. “Fuck me, Matt.”

He did, standing up, against the wall.

Afterwards, Emily fell asleep. Neither of them had slept much the night before, after all.

Matt lay next to her, his brain whirling. Jesus fucking christ it was all true. Something in this place, the air, the fucking water, had changed Emily. He loved the crazy filthy sex, but what else was happening to her? He decided to find the resort manager, to talk about this – it was insane.

Then, part way to the reception building, he realized he was passing Bungalow 7. Bungalow 6 was next. Impulsively, he decided to stop, to warn Rikki just to avoid Emily, that she wasn’t herself. Fuck, that maybe she wasn’t even stable.

Rikki answered the door, topless. Her nipples were perfect, little brown kisses with silver bars pierced through them. “Hello, Matt,” she said, and closed her hand on his cock. “You took long enough!” She left the door wide open, and dropped to a deep crouch in front of him. Matt had fucked Emily ten times in the last eighteen hours, the last time less than forty-five minutes ago. And yet, in Rikki’s expert mouth he was hard in seconds. Maybe it doesn’t just work on women, he thought.

“She can’t say I didn’t warn her.”

Emily’s voice was so close behind him that he jumped.

Emily had Rikki by the hair and throat before Matt could intervene.  She dragged the brunette off his cock and slammed her head sideways into the door frame.  Then she switched her throat hand to Rikki’s nipple ornament and dragged her out of the bungalow by her hair and her nipple.  Rikki’s shriek started mid-range and went ultra-soprano in two seconds.  She raked at Emily’s bikini top and tore it sideways, both of Emily’s boobs bouncing free.  They crashed to the grass and rolled, tangled in a catball together.

Matt stood there with his dick out, stunned, as security and other resort guests pulled them apart.  The security guy didn’t look that surprised; the woman with the male guest who intervened bit her lip as she glared at both Emily and Rikki.  The two of them, for their part, kept up a non-stop streak of cursing at each other.  The security guy was joined by another, and together they marched the women off, tight grips on their biceps, the two men forming a double wall between them.  Matt tucked himself in, and followed them.

The resort manager was a fifty-something no-bullshit woman named Barbara, who stared down the three twenty-somethings like they were delinquents in the principal’s office.   Barbara was an excellent bluffer.  Delinquents, yes, but ticking-time-bomb-dangerous vicious ones.  She picked her words carefully, so as not to trigger one or both of those bitches from launching herself over the desk at her.

“The risks were explained in detail in the on-line agreement you accepted when you made your reservations,”  Barbara said.

“Did your fucking agreement tell this fucking whore that I’d gouge her fucking eyes out?” Rikki said.

“It is not, um, that specific, no,” Barbara said.  “But it does alert the guest to the potential for disputes with other guests.”

Matt, of course, had not read any of this shit.  “Disputes?” he said.  “Jesus!  They want to kill each other!”

Barbara tapped her desk.  “The agreement is clear,” she said.  “The guests can depart – no refunds – or they can avail themselves of our dispute resolution process.”

“I’m not fucking leaving!” Emily said.

“You should fucking run, you cxnt!” Rikki snapped.

You’re both cxnts, Barbara thought, but she was a patient woman and she’d worked here a long time. 

“Our dispute resolution process is, um, highly effective.  We have had no complaints from any guest.  And,” she paused, because this was her clincher, “it can be quite lucrative for the successful guest.”

Matt was completely lost.  Barbara sighed.  It always ended with her explaining it with pictures.  She picked up the remote from her desk and pointed in at the big flat screen on the wall. 

It was a pit.  The camera panned around it.

“Four and a half feet deep.” Barbara said.  “Twenty feet in diameter.  Other guests pay five thousand each to watch.  They wager whatever they want; we provide an app to use and we take 10%, the winner takes 5%.  There are six cinema-quality cameras that film from all angles.  We bear all the costs to film, edit, market and distribute, mostly via on-line streaming.  This is no guarantee of future performance, naturally, but to date our typical net has been about $10 million per video.  The winner gets 15% of the net.”

“And the loser?”  Emily was breathing hard.  So was Rikki.

“The loser gets nothing,” Barbara said.  “We find that adds . . . spice.”  Her little pun.

“What the hell are you talking about?” said Matt.  “This is your dispute resolution process?”

Barbara sighed.  Some of their research indicated that their proprietary mix in fact did make the men hyper-sexual, like the women, but without the aggression.  Unfortunately, it also appeared to make them stupider.

“The two bitches go in the pit,” she said, speaking slowly.  “The one who comes out will be a rich woman.”

The message went out around the resort that Emily and Rikki would go in the pit at 10 pm that night.  Throughout the afternoon, bleachers were assembled, professional lighting and projection screens were set up, wagering apps (with photos and detailed physical information on the two women) were downloaded, guests aroused by the coming spectacle were fucked.

Emily and Rikki drank plenty of water.  Hydration is important.  Neither of them had sex, which set them even more on edge.  This meant Matt didn’t have sex either, and by that night he had a longstanding Viagra-warning hard-on and about a liter of built-up cum for the winning woman.  Rikki had insisted he be in the pit with them; she wanted him as a prize.  Emily had refused at first but then got turned on by the idea of fucking him in the pit after winning and of course she was going to win so actually it was a great idea!  Whew, that was settled.

The bleachers held 250 people.  Three hundred squeezed in.  That was 1.5 mil for the house, right there.  The front row was women only.  They were the most rabid fans.

Matt went in first.  He was naked, and he actually thought that whatever it was that the resort did, it not only made him constantly hard and heavy with cum, it made his cock bigger.  He got quite a bit of appreciative applause and a few very nice offers from close-in spectators.  He looked around.  The pit floor was hard-packed dirt, its walls lined with wood, two-by-fours of some tropical tree, curved and fixed into place; it smelled like the sandalwood scent of their bungalow. 

Emily was next, gracefully lowering herself in.  She’s done something to her blonde hair; it was thicker and wilder, very sensual.  Her fair skin glowed with the bit of tan that she’d picked up since arriving.  Her face was made up with cherry red lipstick and subtle mascara; tonight the color on her cheekbones was definitely a natural flush.  She wore only her blue string bikini bottoms.  Last night, Matt had never seen her nipples so hard; tonight, they were harder still.  Her areolas were pink, a shade darker than her skin, and her nipples jutted high enough to cast a small shadow.  She walked to Matt with shoulders back, her breasts swaying.  She had that incredible wolfish smile turned on to high intensity.  When she got to him, she set her feet, suddenly whipped her hair around in a dramatic move, and dropped to a crouch.  She took all of his cock to its root in her mouth in one quick head bob, her hair in her face.  The crowd went wild.

Rikki was last, just as graceful.  Her short dark hair gleamed with a light sheen of oil that brought out a few natural curls.  She’d done something with mascara that made her dark eyes almost arabian nights exotic.  She wore only a black thong that barely covered her pussy.  She was tanned, all over.  Matt was disappointed that she’d removed her nipple bars, but given she was in a pit with a woman who’d vowed to tear her tits off, he had to acknowledge the soundness of the strategy.  She moved toward Matt too, but Emily stepped in front of him.  The crowd ooooooohed appreciatively.  Matt knew in his evolved brain that he should want Emily to win, but it was his lizard brain that was chemically lit up and it wanted to fuck this little brunette firecracker with her silver bars in place.

The projection screen flickered to life.  It would show two of the cameras in real time, split screen.  The betting lines scrolled in a crawl across the bottom.  Rikki was the slight favorite.  App users could make any prop bet; if enough takers joined, those would appear on the crawl as well.

Matt had been given one line.  Beyond that, he was a prop and a trophy, not to intervene no matter what.  He waited, for the crowd to settle, and for Barbara’s signal from the front row.  At last, she nodded.

“Fight, bitches!” Matt shouted.

They charged headlong into each other.  The app information put them at almost exactly the same weight and the physics of their collision bore that out.  Neither gave a step as the shock rippled through their bodies.  The grunt of pain that involuntarily burst from both of them was positively sexual.  One poor woman in the front row had her first orgasm just from that.

Four hands, four breasts.  Feet set wide, foreheads together.  Rikki attacked from below, her forearms corded as she crushed the bottom half of Emily’s breasts, shoving them up and together on her chest, her fingers nearly disappearing into them.  Emily attacked Rikki’s chocolate-kiss nipples, dragging them out and down, stretching her tan tits away from her centerline.

Emily breaks the hold first appeared on the crawl.  That meant ten thousand had been bet and accepted.  That number climbed by the second, the updates on the big screen accelerating.

Rikki jerked Emily’s tits apart, then slammed them together.  The blonde shuddered.  Her eyes were closed, teeth clenched.  She shook Rikki’s tits in retaliation.  Rikki’s nipples were distended to an alarming extent.  She moaned, and squeezed harder.  Emily changed direction, now pulling Rikki’s nipples straight down.  Both women were wet with sweat already.  The triangles of fabric covering their pussies were ever wetter.  Matt knew Emily’s musky scent; he imagined he could smell Rikki’s too, mixed with the aroma of the pit.  His cock throbbed.

With an agonized scream, Emily let go.  Funds were e-transferred before the erupting crowd finished cheering.  Emily slipped to her knees, her hands clutching at Rikki’s wrists.  The brunette still crushed her, her pink titflesh an angry red now. 

“Gonna tear my tits off?” Rikki gasped.  She switched her grip now, releasing her deep tissue crush to clamp a vise of her thumb and fingers on Emily’s nipples.  With that grip, she slung the blonde sideways to the dirt.  She took a second to cup her own tits.  Emily had hurt her, no doubt.  With a raw cry of rage, Emily lunged back up into the brunette.  Three digging steps and she pinned Rikki to the pit wall.

Are some things instinctive?  These women weren’t trained fighters.  They didn’t know anatomy, particularly.  Yet Emily drove her fist unerringly into Rikki’s ovaries, low in her belly.  Deep, cramping pain bloomed in Rikki’s guts.  Emily’s fist was like a piston in an engine, pumping into her; Rikki’s body buckled in around it each time it sank into her.

Rikki clawed at Emily’s eyes, another fighting instinct.  She missed blinding her, but her nails tore the thinner skin at the outer corner of her eyes.

First blood to Rikki had scrolled as soon as Emily had hit the dirt a few moments before.  A second big payout came now as blood trickled down Emily’s cheeks.  Emily screamed and threw Rikki into the center of the pit by her dark hair.

No one sat in the crowd.  They stamped their feet on the bleachers.  The sound was incredible, a blood-lust arena sound.  Rikki spun to her feet, just in time.  Maddened by her own blood, Emily crashed into her, chest to chest.  Rikki flew off her feet, landing heavily on her back,  her tits splayed outwards.  Emily savagely stomped her, driving her heel into her face, her neck, her breasts.  When Rikki tried to roll, she stomped her back.  Rikki’s face came up, in a rictus of pain from that.  Emily kicked her in the mouth.  Rikki’s lower lip burst against her teeth in a shower of blood.

Emily dragged Rikki up by her hair, bent and lifted her across her shoulders in a torture rack hold.  Her left hand was on Rikki’s chin, cranking her neck back to an agonizing angle.  Her right hand formed a claw that she sank into the brunette’s pussy.  There’s a spot in the finished video that is legendarily paused, over and over, where a camera caught the perfect angle:  Emily’s back and arm muscles rigid, Rikki’s body on full display, her abs stretched tight, her hips twisted to her left, her tits leaning to her right, her head raked way back, her spine bent to an obscene degree, a spray of blood bursting from her mouth because she’s mid-scream.

Emily was genuinely trying to break Rikki’s back; she just wasn’t strong enough.  In frustration, she dumped the brunette to the pit floor.  She kicked her in her back, again and again. 

The loser dies crawled across the screen.

Rikki swept Emily’s leg and the blonde’s head hit the packed dirt hard.  Rikki scrambled away, trying to buy a little time for the pain in her back.  A few seconds were all she got.  Emily came for her on all fours, snarling.  Rikki flung herself forward too.

Their tits collided full force.  Emily locked her arms across Rikki’s ribs, angled down to a cross grip in the small of her back.  Rikki had one hand in Emily’s face, the other hand clawing her ass, and her teeth in the blonde’s trapezius muscle.  Emily screamed as Rikki’s nails opened the cut in the corner of her eye wider and as the brunette bit deeper into her neck.  Escape never entered her mind, though.  She ground her tits harder into Rikki’s, and bent her spine over the fulcrum of her bearhug.   Rikki’s bite released for a second as she sobbed in pain, then sank in again.  Blood ran from the continental divide of Emily’s shoulder, half down her back and half down her chest and over both their tits in the jammed-together mass between them.

Rikki ripped her nails down Emily’s cheek, slowly, digging deep.  At the same time, she released Emily’s ass and stabbed that hand between the blonde’s thighs, jerking her bikini front panel aside and clawing at the slick-shaven pussy beneath it.  Emily released her bearhug and went for the brunette’s pussy too, her other hand in Rikki’s eye to force her to release her bite.  The app administrator rejected Rikki’s pussy bleeds first; it was too hard to adjudicate fairly with blood everywhere already. 

They stalemated like that for a long minute.  Tits at war, claws trying to tear clits to shreds.  The app administrator had followed protocol, but the original bettor was prophetically right.  Rikki jerked and sobbed, and blood ran down her inner thigh. Emily jabbed her fingers deeper.  “Your pussy’s weak,” she gasped into the brunette’s ear, and went deeper still.  “How much can you take, little girl?  I’ll bleed you out in the fucking dirt.”  Rikki wailed in agony and broke away.

Each break thus far had seen Emily pursuing the brunette immediately, but this time she let her go.  Her pain/pleasure centers in her brain were firing like a rocket launching.  She turned to Matt, pulling her string bikini knots free at her hips.  Rikki growled ferally, teeth bared, as she watched her.  Emily ran her hands over Matt’s chest and pirouetted, one hand on the pit wall, lifting one foot, toes on point like a ballerina, to the top of the wall.  Matt didn’t hesitate.  Every woman in the audience, and Rikki, and loudest of all, Emily, moaned as he plunged his cock into her from behind.  He finished two more hammer thrusts before Rikki crashed into them.  His cock escaped intact, gleaming slick with Emily’s juices, as Rikki pounded her into the pit wall.  Her long leg still up, Rikki punished her with brutal knee strikes into her bare pussy, her ass, the hamstrings of her supporting leg.

“Fucking whore think you can fucking humiliate me I’ll kill you but not before you watch me fuck him!”  Rikki was spitting words in unrestrained fury.  She grabbed Emily’s ankle and slammed her to her back with that leg still extended up, landing on it with all her weight.  Emily screamed as something small tore in her groin muscle.  Rikki held her in that split and hammered punches into her tits with her free hand, savagely hard shots.  Emily took a deep breath against the pain, and the next time Rikki drew back her fist, she punched up into her throat.   Rikki pitched off the blonde with a strangled animal sound.

Barbara didn’t drink the water at work and was long acclimated to the lower aerosol dose but her pussy was wet nonetheless from the brutal violence and the mental calculations she was making on the profit margin.  These two bitches were exceeding her wildest expectations, and the amount bet on the deathfight prop alone was astronomical.   She thought of screening the video with her husband, and slid her hand down inside her slacks as she moaned.

In the pit, the two women got to their feet, and raised their fists.  They battered each other back and forth across the circle.  When you aren’t afraid for your own safety, you are able to inflict incredible damage.  If they had focused on each other’s heads, they very well might have killed each other, such was the ferocity of their war.  Instead, the spice that boiled in their blood drove them to ravage each other’s body.  Sex and violence merged for them; their universe narrowed to fists, tits, and pussies.

Seventy-two hours before, Emily was a repressed milquetoast with no imagination beyond the basic missionary position.  The idea of a catight would have repulsed her.  Now she was pinned to a fighting pit wall, her head lolling back over its lip at the very feet of the savage hive, her sweat-and-blood soaked hair in a tangled snarl across the grass.  Her fair skinned tits were ballooning hot, red and purple with bruises as Rikki viciously, relentlessly, beat them.  Every punch from the brunette drove straight into her pink nipples.  And yet the only woman there more sexually aroused than Emily at that moment, was Rikki.

You know the way a woman astride a thick cock will thrust her hips harder and faster as her orgasm builds?  That’s how Rikki was hammering her blonde opponent’s tits.  If she could just rupture one, she knew she’d cum like she’d never cum before.  Her biceps and shoulders burned as she pummeled Emily.  It was so close, just out of reach, just one more –

Emily’s nails found her clit again. 

Oh.  That will do it too, Rikki thought.  Incredibly, no one had bet on first orgasm.  A truly disappointing failure of foresight. 

Rikki’s knees buckled, but Emily’s claw kept her from falling.  The blonde slipstepped, and Rikki collapsed against the pit wall, front first, shuddering as her orgasm rippled through her.  Emily helped her along, switching hands and jabbing three fingers up her cxnt from behind.  Rikki convulsed with her second orgasm.  Emily gave it five seconds before she pulled her fingers free and wiped them in Rikki’s hair.  She ripped a brutal kidney punch into Rikki’s back and flung the limp brunette back to the center of the pit.

Emily was thrilled, and envious.  Oh Christ she wanted Matt’s cock!  But that dark-haired bitch’s nose in her pussy was a close, close second.  She dropped astride Rikki’s face and pumped her hips.  It took two seconds for her to explode.  The second time took a little longer, but no one got bored watching.  She didn’t get off Rikki so much as she just melted and collapsed to the side.

They crawled away from each other, to opposite sides of the pit. 

The crowd was berserk with delight.  Sheer fucking chaos.  The front row woman who’d cum in the first seconds of the fight had her sixth orgasm.  A blonde and a redhead were locked together behind the bleachers in their own private fight as their husbands urged them on.  A woman jumped into the pit and went for Matt’s cock.  Security tased her.  Pandemonium.

Emily gets up first.  She did, indeed. 

Rikki tried to get up but Emily closed the distance and kicked her in the tits.  Ten times.  Payback time.  Rikki slid from leaning on the pit wall to the dirt floor.  Emily switched from kicking her to stomping her, without missing a beat.  Rikki’s tanned mounds and sweet dark nipples were so much hamburger meat now.  Emily tried to drag her across the pit by them but they were too slippery with blood and sweat.  Two fistfuls of short dark hair had to suffice.  Destination:  Matt.

“Finish what you started yesterday,” Emily said cruelly.  “In her bungalow doorway.  I want her to fucking choke on it.”

She held Rikki by her hair while Matt fucked her throat.  The brunette’s arms were limp.  Her wrecked breasts swung, blood and sweat flying.  The crowd held its collective breath.  Emily’s face was alight with triumph.  She leaned in.

“Look at me, bitch,” she said.  Rikki eyes fluttered open, focused slowly.

Her hands came up, and dug into Matt’s ass.  He groaned suddenly.  Rikki’s head was bobbing on its own now, her mouth hungrily working his shaft.

“No!!” Emily screamed, and jerked Rikki’s head back, too late.  Matt’s cum filled her mouth, flooded over her tits.  Another classic freeze-frame.  The brunette was grinning.

Rikki exploded up into Emily.  Both women’s breasts were grotesquely swollen now and still their primitive urge was to match them like fighters in their own pit.  Rikki slammed Emily to the pit wall, chest to chest.

“I’ve taken everything you can dish out, bitch,” she gasped.  “I just sucked your man’s cock and took his cum.  It made me stronger.”  She had a tanned thigh between Emily’s, which meant in turn that Emily had a thigh on her pussy too.  She rolled her body against the blonde’s, their stomachs slapping wetly.

“Fuck you,” Emily gasped.  She dug her hands into Rikki’s ass and lifted, shoving off the wall and impaling the brunette’s pussy on her bent knee as they both dropped.  Rikki’s face twisted in pain but before she fell she headbutted Emily in the bridge of her nose.

They laid next to each other, Rikki on her back, Emily on her side.  The crowd chanted their names, more or less fifty-fifty.  Barbara made a motion with her hand, and a technician quickly tripled the aerosol dose being pumped into the pit.  Matt’s cock hardened again.  Front-row women cheered him.

Slowly, Rikki rolled onto Emily, their bodies at an angle, their right tits together.  Were it a wrestling match, she’d hook the blonde’s leg and call for a count.  She drove her fist into Emily’s pussy instead.  Emily’s fingers worked the knot on Rikki’s hip, then plunged into her when her bottoms fell loose.

“Sexfight!” the orgasm lady in the front row suddenly shrieked.  Just like that, the crowd took up a new, unified chant.  Emily didn’t know what it was, but oh, Rikki did.  Both naked now, she scissored the blonde, cxnt to cxnt, her upper body weight on her left arm, her right hand crushing Emily’s right breast.  The blonde was right behind her, a very quick study; instinct again.

Orgasm bets poured in now.  Hard to adjudicate, yes, but the app administrator had to take them or risk a riot.  She’d just have to do her best.

Rikki dug her four fingers into the underside of Emily’s breast, and stabbed her thumbnail into her nipple, pushing it deep down into the blonde’s swollen titflesh.  Emily caught Rikki’s chocolate nipple above her curled fingers and jabbed her thumbnail down into it, twisting, trying to tear it free.  In their scissored pussies, their clits throbbed and fought each other, slipping and stabbing, two wasps stinging each other to death.  Heads back, eyes closed, teeth clenched; then snapping forward, eyes blazing.  Emily’s hair in her face, Rikki’s dark curls wet.

“I’ll fuck you to death,” Emily gasped.  In the small part of Matt’s civilized brain still operating, he marveled that he’d never imagined she had something like this version of herself buried deep inside.

“Funny,” Rikki panted.  “I was just about to promise Matt that.”

Oh, the way a woman can move her hips.  The mad chant subsided as the crowd watched their dance, fascinated.  Blood boiled up around Rikki’s embedded thumbnail.  The back of Emily’s hand was slick with some unnatural mix of blood and lymph, wrung from the damaged works of Rikki’s breast and dribbling from her cruelly hyper-extended nipple. Their free breasts jiggled and swayed.   Their pussies slapped and ground together.  Orgasms began like earthquakes, the first tremors deep below, building slowly.

Emily’s head snapped back.  “Ohhhh god oh fuck!!” she wailed.  Rikki snarled and pumped into harder.  Emily shook her head, head flying, slinging sweat.  Her chin came back down.  She was gasping, her breathing nearly out of control.  She slammed her hips up, but lost her grip on Rikki’s nipple.  Her supporting arm buckled.  Rikki drove her flat to her back, still crushing her breast, and mounted her.  Rikki’s face was the face of a pagan goddess watching the preparation of human sacrifice to her.

Emily’s fists beat the dirt.  Her back arched like an exorcism in progress.  She screamed like Lucifer himself was fucking her.

“Cum for me you slut!” Rikki screamed at her.

Emily’s scream cut off as she did just that.  She stopped breathing.  She stopped thinking.  She stopped feeling anything, except for the supernova blooming in her body.  After an eternity, she finally fell limp.

The crowd erupted.

Gingerly, Rikki broke the scissors.  Emily trembled a little as she did.  Rikki stood.

“No more,” Emily whispered.

“Watch me,” Rikki said.  She dropped, both knees, on Emily’s tits.  Something deep inside them burst.  Rikki straddled Emily’s chest, pinning her arms under her knees.  She leaned forward, stretching like a cat.  “Now, Matt,” she ordered.  “Slowly!”  To Emily, she said, “If you close your eyes, I’ll kill you.”

From only inches away, Emily watched Matt’s cock penetrate Rikki from behind.  Her face was already wet with blood and sweat.  Now tears.  Then the final humiliation of her enemy’s juices mixed with her man’s cum.

It was over.  The crowd slowly dissipated. No death fight tonight.  Barbara was glad, actually.  It would have narrowed the video sales, not to mention the complications of body disposal.  No thank you.  But Emily was broken, just the same.  The spice had brought something out of her but when the brunette beat her, she destroyed that part of her.  Alone in the bungalow, she soaked in the garden tub and wept.  The water healed her body, but that was it.

Matt moved to Bungalow 6.  Rikki’s mouth and breasts were the worst, horribly swollen, but the miracle waters of the tub did wonders.  By the next afternoon, she could bear to put her silver nipple bars in.  Matt had to be a little gentle, but not too much.

Rikki’s male companion?  A cautionary tale about letting work interfere with vacation.  She flew home with Matt.  Another couple from the resort were on their flight.  Kelly and Paul.  They came to introduce themselves, gushing compliments for Rikki. 

“You were incredible!”  Kelly said.  “Oh my god, how we fucked that night after watching you!  You know what, we made reservations already for next spring!”  Her mouth smiled but not really her eyes.  Neither did Rikki’s.  “You two should join us.”  It sounded more like a dare than an invitation. 

Chemicals sometimes alter biology permanently.

The End

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