The shadows were growing long as Justin Starr approached the front door of the converted hotel that served as his and his mother’s home. Justin had caught sight of the family SUV sitting under the canopy in the parking lot, which meant his mother was home. Justin’s hand rested on the handle as he glowered, not wanting to engage the lever and enter, yet also not wanting to hang around outside where every damn lookie-loo could see him. Sighing, Justin pushed the door open.
“Justin? Is that you, dear?” wafted a dusky woman’s voice from down the halls to the back of the residence.
“Yeah, mom, it’s me.”
“Coming back from a session?”
“Yeah.”
Justin set the athletic bag dangling from his shoulder onto the floor and hung his denim jacket onto the rack next to the front door. He stretched his small limber frame until his spine cracked, then shuffied to the kitchen, dragging the athletic bag behind him. Hefting the bag onto the table, Justin opened the fridge and eyeballed the contents inside before reaching for a gallon of milk.
“Justin, you didn’t put your sweaty clothes on my table, did you?”
Justin’s hand paused on the handle of the gallon, “No,” he lied.
Fetching the milk from the fridge, Justin quickly slapped the athletic bag from the table before retrieving a glass from the cabinet and filling it. Returning the milk to the fridge, he took a seat at the table.
“So...how did it go?” Justin’s mother’s voice came again.
“How did what go?” Justin replied as he leaned over to open the bag.
“The session, boy,” his mother returned, her tone turning a little more firm, “Come on, talk shop with your mother.”
“Fucking slut, fine,” Justin grumbled under his breath, “It went alright, I guess. I’m guessing she was the owner of a porn studio or something. Looked good and had plenty of cash.”
Justin reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of trunks. They were tight, even on the body of a twelve-year-old boy like him, high cut in the legs and with windows in the thighs. They were made of glistening purple material with orange trim and lining. Justin turned them over to examine the underside, his lips pursed as he looked at the streak of deep red lipstick running between the legs from the crotch to the seat...at least, he hoped that it was just lipstick. It had been hard to tell if he had drawn blood after he had gotten off of his client’s face. He was thankful that he had listened to his instincts and not gone with his favorite white pair.
“Any extracurriculars?” his mother asked.
“She didn’t pay for that,” Justin replied. “I think she wanted just a taste of the forbidden fruit and not the whole thing. She might be a repeat customer, though.”
“Good to hear. Come to the gym, dear; we’ve got some business to discuss.”
With a sigh and picking up his milk, Justin slipped out the back of the residential suite into the commercial body of the hotel, headed towards what had served as the hotel’s gym. Justin brought the rim of his glass to his lips as he poked his head into the room, then immediately brought the glass back down when he saw the gargantuan breasts of his mother, hanging free and unconstrained by any fabric.
“Fucking really?” Justin groaned, his drooping shoulders broadcasting disappointment.
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen them before, boy,” his mother teased.
Justin’s mother was an impossible beast of a lioness. Over seven feet tall, she was a mountain of muscle, a thick neck, broad shoulders, rippling arms, a generously matronly bosom, a thick etched trunk, wide hips, broad thighs, and long powerful legs, all contained only by a pair of tight orange gym shorts. Her eyes, painted dark with eyeshadow, were narrow, yet her irises were small so that it looked like her eyes were almost always wide open if they were open at all, appearing as though they were always alive with insane, insatiable energy. Her brown wiry hair below the head was wide and hung down past her shoulders, but above the hair was cut on the sides down to the scalp so that what remained was a tall and wide mohawk. Her protruding ears were pierced with wide golden hoops. Her jaw was masculine, and her mouth, painted vibrantly like her eyelids, was pulled back in a wide and wild grin that looked like her face had cracked open to reveal it was made solely of salt-white teeth, Across her shoulders she had contemptuously rested a barbell racked up with three hundred pounds of metal weights. She was as if the universe had shoved the most extreme specimens of masculinity and femininity into a single person and dared anyone to complain about it. Her name, appropriately, was Eartha.
Justin, in contrast, looked like a sapling staring up at a sequoia tree. A mere pubescent boy, he had nothing of his mother’s monstrous physique, or at least not yet. He wasn’t even an especially tall boy, though one might see that his lithe body, only lightly covered by a white wife-beater and blue jeans, was firm and not readily jostled by movement. His fur was dark, darker than his mother's, dark like chocolate, and his underbelly was like cream in coffee. His hair, almost black, was thick, just starting to crawl down his back as a threshold for his future mane, and also a tuft peeked over the lip of his shirt out of the shallow valley between his pectorals. Despite the darkness of his figure, his eyes were bright and blue like ice. They also had an intense energy, but unlike his mother’s, which was savage and chaotic, Justin’s was cold and resolute, like the steel of a sharp knife.
“The pasties are new,” Justin commented. At each tip of the massive orbs of his mother’s chest was a stylized decal of a lion’s skull staring back at Justin with cruel intent, uncomfortably white against the tawny canvas of Eartha’s breasts, much like her teeth against her face, 
“Do you like them? Just got them today. I was thinking I would wear these for our next video,” Eartha said as she waggled her breasts at Justin, looking like the rolling tide of the sea. “What would you think about that, seeing these before they put you on your back?”
“This better not be why you called be back here,” Justin replied, unperturbed by his mother’s taunts.
Eartha smiled warmly back at her boy. Shifting the weight of the bar to one shoulder, Eartha collected her smartphone from a weight bench and handed it to Justin, “I’ve been scouting for talent to expand our roste. I found this lovely girl on a forum for parents who like to arrange private wrestling matches between their kids. Her name is Kattie Felonia. What do you think of her?”
Justin accepted the phone and examined the photo onscreen with expertise that no boy had any business having. The young girl, who was beaming and wagging a hand enthusiastically in the air, was a white cat with a slender frame typical of a girl in her late preteens. Despite her tender years, her golden blonde hair had been artfully teased and twisted into a feathered perm, an anachronistic artifact of beauty from a decade long before her birth. Her hair was not the only uncharacteristically adult thing about her; her eyes, while wide and bright and alive, were covered with an auburn eyeshadow that glistened in the camera flash, her eyelashes brimmed with liner as black as ink, her lip lacquered with blood-red lipstick, and, the most adult feature of all, she had a pair of breasts that would have made any grown woman drop to her knees and wail in jealous despair. It was as if she had the heads of two other preteens tightly wrapped in a shirt, which was clearly intended for her age and not her size, emblazoned with the words “Pillow Princess” stretched nearly to illegibility.
Justin’s jaw hung open as if it had been struck dead. It struggled to find its life again, wagging weakly once, then twice, before Justin found his voice. “Those cannot be real!” he exclaimed.
“They’re real, I’m to--”
“No, bullshit!” Justin cut his mother off, “Horseshit! Those things are plastic or I’m having a goddamn stroke!”
“They’re real,” Eartha spoke calmly as she retrieved her phone from Justin’s hand, “according to her parents, and the parents of all the children she’s faced off against. It’s called virginal breast hypertrophy, a rare developmental condition where a girl’s breasts develop early and massively. You don’t hear about it very much because most parents try to keep it private, but Kattie’s parents have decided to make good use of their little jackpot. You should see the thread where her parents are looking for fights for her, just lots of posts saying that her boobs had to be fake, only to have follow-ups exclaim that they are real, and she knows how to use them. She is in very high demand. Besides, what plastic surgeon would think to bolt those bombshells on an eleven year old? He would never get away with it. Think before you fly off the handle at your mother like that, dearie.”
With the last few words, Eartha had leaned over and said them in a tone of voice somewhere between a growl and a purr, towering over her son like the boulder at the top of a crumbling cliff. Justin did not retreat or shrink, folding his arms and sticking a black lip at Eartha defiantly.
Returning her phone to the weight bench, Eartha put a massive hand on her hip, which was broad like the flank of a hill. With the other hand she casually waggled the fully-loaded barbell resting on her shoulder. “Anyway, I believe we should recruit her. I think matches with her will sell very, very well.”
With a deep breath, Justin swung his head angrily and pointed a finger at Eartha. “Mom, no! For once, think with your brain, not your pussy. All this girl knows how to do is roll around with other girls so that her slut daddy gets a boner. Just because she has an ‘I win’ button strapped to her chest doesn’t mean she’s tough enough for this business. She won’t be able to take a beating. I would destroy her; you would kill her. She has no place in a ring with us!”
Eartha’s mouth curled into an O and a throaty laugh blew through it. “Oh, you would destroy her, huh?”
“She’d be out cold before she had a chance to cry about it.”
“Well, then, how about I arrange a little playdate between you and her, then?”
Justin’s face twisted into a sneer. “Fine, you do that, and once I get done ruining your little project, I want my first beer...and you have to wear a shirt around the house.”
“I wear what I want in my own house, young man, but I’ll get you that beer. But, if she wins, you can’t say the word ‘slut’ for a month.”
“Deal,” Justin said. He downed the rest of his milk in a single swig, leaving a white bar across his lip. Disappearing back into the hall, he shouted behind him “I’ve got a camshow to do. Don’t bug me until dinner.”
“Love you too, babe,” Eartha chuckled, returning the barbell to its proper position to continue her workout.
*   *   *
A week later, Justin and Eartha lounged at an outdoor marina café in another city, awaiting their first face-to-face meeting with the Felonia’s. They relaxed in the shade of a table umbrella, Eartha, her massive body squeezed into a sturdy yet saucy corset and blue jeans, teased the rim of her rum and coke with her finger, while Justin, wearing a plain blue tracksuit, glared sullenly over a glass of ice water. They both wore aviator shades, and were quite the display for the other patrons of the café, who fiddled their straws distractedly and muttered to each other about the strange creatures that had wandered into their presence, trying hard not to stare, or, rather, not be seen staring.
Eartha’s head turned slightly towards her son, examining him up and down until her eyes settled on Justin’s feet as they kicked impatiently underneath the table. “Can we go anywhere without you pouting?” She finally asked.
“People like to see the pout,” Justin replied, with a passing glimmer of pride.
Eartha hummed back at her son, “I can’t argue with that.”
“At least it’s tasteful, unlike that,” Justin flung his hand in the direction of Eartha’s tightly bound bust.
“What’s wrong with it?” Eartha protested.
“Mom, people aren't checking you out; they’re afraid that’s going to blow and kill them.”
Eartha, nonplussed, smirked at her son. “Don’t you have anything nice to say about your mother?”
Justin fidgeted in his seat, and his mouth spasmed with a noise that could barely be heard.
“Yes?” Eartha coaxed through a smile-full of bared teeth
“I said...I said that your choker looks nice. It looks nice on you. Kind of old-timey.” Justin sat up in his chair and quickly changed the subject. “Do they even know who to look for?”
“A large, muscular woman and her boy-model son? We’re hard to miss, darling.”
“Oh, yeah, I just love sitting here, making a running tally of all the people undressing us with their eyes. I’m winning, by the way.”
“I’m sure you are, dear. Ah, there they are now.”
Across the dining area came a family of white cats. The male was a mild-looking man, with an unremarkably moderate build and unremarkably tawny hair in an unremarkable combover, wearing an unremarkable button-down shirt and unremarkable tan slacks. His wife, however, was anything but unremarkable, a slender woman with an hourglass figure in a little black dress more appropriate for after-dark clubbing than a marina in broad daylight. Long snowy legs ended in black stiletto heels that thumped uncomfortably against the wooden pier. Finally, between the couple and in front, was their little generously proportioned daughter, Kattie. She wore a pair of Daisy Dukes, a pair of pink leg-warmers, and a baggy-fit pink shirt with a slogan reading “Little Knockout,” an icon of boxing gloves separating the words in “Knockout.” The roomy fit of Kattie’s shirt had probably been intended to cover up her overdeveloped chest, but the effort was in vain as Kattie’s lively jaunt made her bosom bounce and waggle with each step, so that her shirt looked something like a pair of dogs wrestling under a blanket. Kettie didn’t seem to mind, though, as she led her family pack with a smile.
Justin watched the Felonias coming, unmoved from his slouched position with his arms dangling over the arms of his chair. His lip stirred for a second, before passing judgement on his rivals for the evening: “The dad’s a cuck.”
“Justin!” Eartha admonished before swallowing a giggle.
“Complete cuck. Doesn’t even look at his wife even while she’s dressed like a hooker out in the middle of the day. He probably doesn’t even have the balls to molest his own daughter, so he just gets other people to do it while he watches. Bet you he films it too. Now, the mom is hardcore jealous of her kid, which is why she’s wearing that dress with that neckline in public. She wants the attention her kid gets, and she’s only in this because this is the only way that the dad can get it up, and she also likes seeing her daughter get hurt. Can’t say I blame her because, goddamn, look at those tits jiggle. Of course, they don’t put a bra on her.”
“Bra shopping is hard for someone like me, dear. I don’t think anyone makes a children’s size bra for...I’m guessing those are G-cups. But, bra or no bra,” Eartha leaned down to coo into Justin’s ear with a predatory grin, “they’re more than enough to wrap around your face.”
“I want my first beer to be ice cold.”
As the Felonias approached, Mr. Felonia wrapped his hands around each other, clasping and squeezing them together so hard that it appeared he was attempting to mangle them. “Ah, you must be the Starrs,” he said in a voice as thin and unthreatening as skim milk, “We’re the Felonias. I’m Brad, this is my lovely wife Betty, and, of course, our daughter Kattie. From your description of your son, Ms. Starr, I have been very eager to meet him. He is such a…handsome boy”
Mr. Brad Felonia looked over Justin and chewed his own lip like a child eying an unattended cookie jar. His wife’s face floated over her husband’s shoulder, and her own face turned into an expression of a far more mature desire. Justin, without firing a single nerve in his body, met their licentious leers over the top of his sunglasses with a look of intense indifference. There was silence as everyone held each other’s gazes, except for Kattie, who looked with fluttering eyelids at her apparently stricken parents, at Justin, and finally at Eartha, who smirked, shrugged, and slipped her drink as she watched her son work his special magic on their hosts for the evening. Kattie, oblivious to the tornado of sexual tension that had touched down onto a table on a dock by the ocean, took initiative and pranced over to Justin and stuck out her hand.
“I’m Kattie,” she announced.
Justin’s own arm rose to clasp his hand with Kattie’s, firmly yet politely, without breaking eye contact with Mr. and Mrs. Felonia. “Justin.”
Eartha drained the last of her rum and coke. She danglied the glass over the table, rattling the ice inside it like a bell to break the spell. “Justin, dear, do you mind entertaining Kattie for us while her parents and I hammer out the terms?”
“Whatever,” Justin muttered. Hopping out of his chair, he turned to walk out of the dining area, wagging a finger at Kattie to signal her to follow him. Kattie, after a quick glance back at her sires, jogged up to Justin.
“Wait, shouldn’t we stay and talk about the match?” She asked.
They both descended a staircase down to an unused wharf, devoid of any patron or vessel, so that they had no witnesses besides the great expanse of the sea. “The grown-ups will figure that out,” Justin explained, “and I rather not stay in sight of the gawkers any longer than I have to.”
“Gawkers?”
“Yes. Since you haven’t seemed to notice, everybody here has had their eyes glued to your chest since you got here. Speaking of which…” Justin spun around and seized a handful of one of Kattie’s breasts. Kattie recoiled from Justin’s grip, slapping away his hand and shielding herself.
“Hey! Don’t grab me!” She protested.
“Holy shit, they are real.”
“Of course, they’re real!”
“I was ju--”
“Ugh, I have to go through this every time whenever I meet someone new. Don’t you get how much that sucks?”
“Okay, I get it. Just calm down before someone hears you.”
“First time I’ve been grabbed though!”
“Okay, look, in this line of work, you have to deal with a lot of--”
“Oh, your eyes! They’re so pretty.”
Justin, in an attempt to placate Kettie, had taken off his shades, and when Kattie saw his ice-blue eyes, she forgot her paroxysm. They stared at each other, Kattie admiring Justin’s eyes shining out of his dark face like a lighthouse shines in a foggy night. Justin fiddled with his sunglasses as he looked back into Kattie’s eyes, which were also blue but blue like the clear summer sky behind her.
Justin, after a moment, looked away. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered before continuing. “Look, the reason we’re here is that mom wants to turn you into a brat.”
Kattie’s face scrunched up. “A brat?”
“Black-market wrestling term for an underage fighter. Basically what you’re doing, but there is money now.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Not cool. It’s a whole different level from yours. We might sometimes do other stuff, but our bread and butter is mismatches. That’s why they call us brats, because people want to see us get hurt. Our job is to get beaten up and molested by grown-ups while other grown-ups get off. It's hard, you have to be tough to do it, and I don't think you're tough enough. You might be good at rolling around with other girls while your dad jerks off watching, but if you get in the ring with a real brat-beater, you'd never walk again."
 "The reason I'm telling you this," Justin continued, looking regally out over the sea, "is so that when I turn you into a crying mess in front of your parents and prove to my mom what a stupid idea this was, you know that this isn't fun for me either."
Silence sat heavily on that empty pier between the two young wrestlers. Kattie jutted her painted lip at Justin, who continued staring at the horizon like the dolorous yet righteous hero of a stageplay. Kattie shook her head, her glistening hair churning like the waves beneath the dock, and said, "Why are you boys always so mean?"
 Justin's eyes snapped back to face Kattie, "Wait, boys?"
 "Yes, boys! Every boy daddy's arranged for me to wrestle has been a real jerk!"
 "Wait, you mean you've wrestled boys before?"
 Kattie stepped forward, chest out and fists clenched. Justin turned reflexively, causing Kattie's breasts to collide with his own chest and force a small woof from his mouth. "Yes, I've wrestled boys before, lots of them," Kattie protested, "and every one of them was just like you, talking about how they were going to beat me up and I wasn't good enough to fight them. One boy actually said he was going to kill me and rape my corpse!"
 "That's...a bit extreme," Justin concurred placatively.
 "And as you can see, he wasn't able to do it. None of them have! Every time I have to wrestle a boy, I don't get any respect from them or their parents, and I'm sick of it! That's why I am going to beat you! And when I'm done, I'm going to stick your face in my boobs and I'm gonna look your mom in the eyes and make her watch as I put her little boy to sleep." Kattie's snout pressed against Justin's, so that her warm, angry breath wafted up Justin's nostrils. She snarled, "Do you have something to say to that, tough boy?"
Justin didn’t, not at first. He looked back into Kattie’s bright blue eyes in wide-eyed astonishment, his lip twitching as he struggled to meet Kattie’s challenge. Justin slowly began to realize that he could feel his heart in his pants; one part of him had an opinion to share. However, it was his pride that found his mouth first. His brow turned downward, his ears flattened, and his eyes narrowed to icy splinters as he pushed his face back against. His voice became as deep as his young voice could manage.
“Fine,” he growled, “It’s your funeral.”
Kattie’s own ears snapped down in response. They pushed against each other, fists back, chests forward, their feet fighting to find ground between them, as they didn’t break eye-contact. The tension between them grew to a melting point, and a brawl seemed inevitable until the sound of a deep, throaty woman’s chuckle from above interrupted them. Both Kattie and Justin looked up to see Eartha, who was putting great faith in a railing as she leaned on it, her chin resting on a fist, with a finger dangling excitedly in front of her toothy grin.
“Oh, this fight is going to be delicious,” Eartha cooed down at the children. “Let’s get you two cuties in a ring!”
*   *   *
The arena was the Felonias' basement. Down a flight of wooden stairs, tucked between a washer and dryer on one side, a water heater on the other, flanked on opposite sides by easily-cleanable leather loveseats, and lit by a single yet bright lightbulb dangling from the naked floorboards above was an improvised ring. The floor of the ring was a pair of twin-size mattresses, the posts of round steel posts securely bolted to the concrete floor, the ropes bare and looped through eyes welded into the posts, and the eyes protected by double layers of memory-foam, custom-cut for the construction. The result was small even for children, just six feet on each side; no room to run, just enough room to fight.
Justin and his mother were standing to the side of the ring opposite the stairs, while Mrs. Felonia sat on the other couch with her white legs crossed and kicking leisurely. Justin wrapped his finger around the top rope and tugged on it experimentally. He pursed his lips as he judged the craft of the ring with an experienced eye. “I’ve seen worse,” he concluded. “Feels strong enough to take both of our weights.”
“Yes, Mr. Felonia has put in a lot of effort into feeding his perversion, hasn’t he?” Eartha concurred. “These mattresses might be a problem for you, though. Means that you can’t just bodyslam Kattie to victory.”
“I have more ways to hurt her, mom. Speaking of which, what rules did you guys agree on?”
“Smother knockout rules, and Mr. Felonia is going to record it.”
“Figures. Didn’t I call that?”
“You called it, dear.”
Justin looked over towards the female half of his hosts for the evening. Mrs. Felonia had been examining Justin since they had arrived, her red lip turned approvingly as her painted eyes glanced Justin up and down. When Mrs. Felonia’s eyes met Justin’s, one eye winked at him enticingly. Justin returned Mrs. Felonia’s gesture with a hard, disdainful glare before. “I’m going to end up fucking her tonight,” he said, whispering so only his mouther could hear.
“Yes, I can see that,” Eartha replied, “and what about Kattie?”
“What about her?”
“Well, I took the liberty of eavesdropping on your conversation with her, and it seems to me that there is some chemistry between you two.”
Justin’s glare turned towards his mother. He was silent as his brain tumbled over itself searching for some devastating putdown, until he spat out, “Fuck you.”
“I’m serious, boy. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you get that worked up at someone. I think you two could make something special. But, if not, at least it will be fun to see Kattie ‘look me in the eyes and make me watch as she puts my little boy to sleep.’”
“Ice. Cold. Woman. I want the can to hurt when I pick it up, do you hear me?”
Eartha only smiled her big toothy smile. The sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening announced the arrival of the opposition. A pair of pink children’s-size wrestling boots was the first to appear, descending the staircase ahead a pair of white legs, followed by a t-shirt with the slogan “Pin-up Girl,” except “up” had been scrawled over with a black marker and replaced with “Down,” and lastly the smiling, confident face of Kattie. Her father followed close behind, filming Kattie from behind with a handheld camera. Kattie eyeballed Justin as she strode with long, swinging steps off the stairs, around the couch between her and the ring, and to the ring itself. Deftly, Kattie hoisted a leg over the ropes, then the other, and then slid into the ring as lightly and as smoothly as a breeze. Keeping her legs straight and open, Kattie bent forward and unrolled the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. Underneath the shirt, Kattie was wearing a black one-piece swimsuit, but the suit, designed for young girls who were not deeper-chested than any grown woman, had no room in the front, so that the neck of the swimsuit had to have been pulled under Kattie’s substantial bosom, and she had to wear an adult-sized sports bra with the band tucked into the suit to supplement her ring outfit. The effect made her breasts jut out even more, even more obvious as the motion of stripping herself of her shirt deliberately forced Justin and Eartha to look down her cleavage. Slowly, Kattie straightened herself upright, and puffed her chest up defiantly at Justin, challenging him to get in the ring with her.
“She can put on a show, can’t she?” Eartha muttered into Justin’s ear.
Justin scoffed. “Watch this.”
Handing his sunglasses off to his mother, Justin matched Kattie’s gaze as took the zipper of his tracksuit by the slider and pulled it open delicately. The cocky smirk Kattie had been wearing melted and her eyes widened. Her mother behind her sat up straighter as they both watched Justin’s jacket split open to show a tight and wiry chest. Though appropriately narrow for a young boy, Justin’s body was etched with sincere promises of a burgeoning masculinity in his future. A valley, seemingly deeper in the narrow light of the lightbulb overhead, started from his pronounced clavicles, through the tuft of mane between his pectorals, down a belly the color of milk chocolate, and disappearing tantalizingly into the band of his pants. With a deliberate teasing flex of his abdominals, Justin pulled away one of the breasts of his jacket to reveal an umber-colored mammilla, extracting his arm from his sleeve with a motion as smooth as silk. Never once breaking eye contact with Kattie, Justin slid his jacket off of his body, folded it dutifully in front of him, and handed it to Eartha too, allowing his female audience to get a full survey of the top half of him. Justin stuck his thumb into the waistband of his pants, pulled the waist out by an inch, and dragged his thumb to the bisector between his navel and his hip. Kattie and her mother had been watching intently with open eyes and open mouths, and their eyes went to Justin’s hand as it constricted a handful of the material of his pants. They had been so entranced by the show they had been treated to, that, when Justin suddenly and violently tore away the rest of his tracksuit, the angry protest of the offended velcro caused both mother and daughter to jump. Justin contemptuously dropped his pants to the floor, revealing his wrestling trunks, white like cream, with boots to match. His trunks hugged his narrow and sinewy hips as tightly as his own skin, and supported and highlighted his boyhood shamelessly. Looking away from Kattie's face for the first time since starting his strip-tease, Justin could see that a pair of familiar nubs had appeared in the front of his opponent’s bra, looking exposed and vulnerable in the harsh lighting. Justin smirked with satisfaction.
“Well, if she wasn’t worked up before,” Eartha commented dryly as she collected her son’s discarded pants before taking a seat on the couch behind her, “she is now.”
Justin entered the ring himself and stood face-to-face with Kattie. Kattie, regaining her composure, met his advance with her chest out, her breasts making the faintest contact with Justin’s chest as he approached. Kattie bounced energetically on her heels and pursed her lips and she stared Justin in the eyes, who glowered back at her with a look that could strip the chrome plating off of steel. As they stared each other down, the thin curtain of air between them almost combusting with the tension, the single eye of the camera floated between them, held by Mr. Felonia as he leaned over the ropes to get a good close-up of the young combatants.. Mr. Felonia’s hand gripped the camera so tightly that the tendons and veins on the back of his hand stuck out; the only way he couldn’t crush the device is because he didn’t have the strength to.
“You two...look incredible,” Mr Felonia said finally, after a period of breathing so heavy that the two kids in the ring could feel the warm air brushing over their shoulders and necks. “Kattie, baby, are you ready?”
Kattie glanced at her father and nodded. “Yes, daddy, I’m ready.”
The camera’s eye swung away from Kattie to look at Justin, “Justin, are you ready?”
Justin remained silent. His ice-blue eyes were staring into Kattie’s with baleful intent, as if he was trying to break her through sheer malice alone. His lips curled, and a sliver of white appeared on his snout. “I’m ready,” he growled.
Mr. Felonia retreated from the ring. With an impassioned exhortation from Mr. Felonia to wrestle, the young fighters clashed, and the fight began.
Justin had the clear strength advantage, and leveraged it ruthlessly. Justin’s earlier supposition about the strength of the ropes held true as he bullied Kattie back to the ropes on her side of the ring, their bodies slapping together as Kattie ran out of room to stumble backwards. As they struggled against each other, Justin pinning Kattie against the ropes while Kattie tried to wriggle her way to freedom, the camera hovered over them to record their bodies squirming against each other, especially focused on Kattie’s breasts as they were flattened and forced apart under the press of Justin’s body. Getting Kattie bent sideways over the ropes, Justin seized a golden handful of Kattie’s hair and forced her face down into the top rope. The rope, while kept dutifully fresh, was rough and taut and very unpleasant to have one’s face pressed into. Justin cruelly dragged Kattie’s face against the twisted hemp, eliciting a small miserable moan from Kattie, then a protesting yelp as Justin twanged the rope with his other hand. Kattie got a hand free to push the rope away from her face, but this act left her exposed for Justin’s next attack, a vicious punch to her stomach.
The blow struck deep. Justin could feel Kattie’s organs get jostled as his knuckles sank into her belly. The sound of it exploded through the basement, followed by a loud pained woof from Kattie, followed by a wet cough and a whimper. Justin believed, with a pang of sadistic satisfaction, he had forced some bile to shoot up into the back of Kattie’s throat. He looked over at Mrs. Felonia, who bounced excitedly in her seat, biting her lip and shaking with glee as she watched her daughter get pummeled. Justin smirked, perfectly happy to oblige her as he drew back another fist to fire into his opponent’s abdomen. However, this time his fist met resistance; instead of the violent upheaval of the girl’s viscera, Justin encountered a wall of tense muscle. Kattie, though the first blow caught her off-guard, had figured out how to flex her abdominal muscles to protect herself from bodyblows, and they were strong, partly because of the weight they had to carry every day. Unfortunately for Kattie, Justin had other ways to hurt her. Turning her over to face the floor, Justin, never having let go of Kattie’s hair, forced Kattie’s head over the top rope and bent her neck across it, making the rope dig into her throat and choke her. Holding Kattie in place with one hand, Justin pounded Kattie’s side with the other. Knuckles raked against ribs as Justin drove yelp after yelp of pain from Kattie’s mouth. After a merciless rain of blows, Justin jammed both of his thumbs into Kattie’s armpits, just behind the pectorals, and wrapped his fingers around the front of the muscles, pouring strength into his fingers like they were the teeth of a feral animal.
Kattie shrieked. She recoiled from the ropes as if they were electric, falling backwards into Justin’s unloving embrace. This was clearly a new pain for her. What had been a strength for her core was a weakness for her chest muscles; tense under the constraint strain of carrying the weight of her breasts, her pectorals were vulnerable to even the slightest stressor from a new direction. Justin’s fingers burrowed into Kattie’s flesh, while Kattie’s fingers clawed desperately at Justin’s. Justin's hands twisted and pulled and pressed, manipulating Kattie’s muscles like they were putty, each change in direction causing Kattie to choke back agonized sobs. The torture continued until Justin’s own hands began to ache under the abuse, and only then did Justin grant his opponent a brief reprieve, releasing Kattie’s chest to embrace her around the waist.
Kattie, despite the mauling she had endured, was enduring. She hadn’t tried to quit or plead for release, but had bravely faced the pain that Justin had been inflicting on her. Yet she didn’t fight her way out of Justin’s embrace, holding her arms around herself defensively. For a moment, it almost as if the violence had lapsed into affection, even as Justin tenderly pressed his muzzle against Kattie’s ear. He spoke in a visceral growl, a noise that rattled Kettie’s entire head and froze her spine solid:
“I haven’t begun to hurt you.”
Justin suddenly hauled Kattie off of her feet. A scream of surprise from Kattie was cut short as her head and shoulders crashed into the mattress beneath them, her body limply flopping to the side. Justin leapt upon Kattie’s back, pushing her onto her face and cupping both of his hands around her chin. Sitting on the small of Kattie’s back, Justin pulled back hard, curling Kattie’s spine. Kattie’s voice found life again as her body was contorted. Mr Felonia nearly tripped over his own feet as he dashed around the ring, squatting down to get a level view of his daughter’s bosom as it dangled from her elevated chest. Justin, smirking, yanked viciously on Kattie’s head a few times to make her breasts bounce and jostle, all which Mr Felonia eagerly recorded while biting his lip. Justin’s hands moved from Kattie’s chin to her mouth and nose, sealing her airways shut. Kattie’s head thrashed about as her air was cut off, but Justin’s grip remained clasped around her face. Slowly, yet unrelentingly, Justin bent Kattie’s head back until she could look him in the eyes. Her eyes, though tears grew in the corners, faced his with fierce determination. It might have been an illusion of the lighting, but her eyes seemed to blaze with hot, blue fire. Justin acted if he would return her defiance with a warm smile, but the smile immediately soured into a contemptuous frown and a disapproving shaking of his head.
Justin stood and released Kattie. Kattie flopped forward. Her mouth opened to swallow a galeful of fresh air, but Justin’s boot on the back of her head denied her that luxury,  pushing her face into the soft body of the mattress. Justin perched regally on the back of Kattie’s skull, his boot buried deeply into the tangle of golden hair, and surveyed the room. He looked down at Mr Felonia, who had turned the camera up to face him from the ground. Justin curled up his arms and flexed them, swelling up his chest to display the bumps and ridges of a developing musculature. He turned to Mrs. Felonia and did it again, and Mrs. Felonia made a happy giggle and kissed the air in Justin’s direction. Finally, Justin turned and repeated the flex to his own mother, who smirked back at him, tapping her finger on her thigh impatiently and rolled her eyes at his manifestation of machismo. Justin’s arms flopped with frustration, and sneered back at Eartha before he stooped to grab Kattie by her hair.
“Get up,” he commanded, his voice sour with wounded pride. “Get up!”
Kattie winced as Justin roughly dragged her back to her feet. She stumbled as she fought to find her own balance against Justin’s manhandling, but as soon as she found it, a fist caught her in the face, turning her head violently and causing her yellow hair to whip around like a wave in front of a storm at sea. It was more a gesture of disrespect than it was an attempt to hurt, but hurt it did, and Kattie looked back at Justin with wide-eyed shock. Justin was certain that the crying would come now.
It didn’t.
Kattie retaliated. Justin had not prepared himself for a counterattack, and Kattie’s knuckles scored a hit directly in Justin’s mouth. A flash of pain followed by the feeling of his lip flat and numb made Justin brush his mouth with his fingers and look at them to see that Kattie’s punch had drawn a trickle of blood. The punch had hurt him, though not as much as the loud guffaw that had erupted from Justin’s mother behind him, and Justin was going to make her pay for it. Ferociously baring his teeth, Justin charged Kattie, expecting to force her into the corner like he had done at the beginning of the match, but this time Kattie ducked and sidestepped him. A tactically placed foot tripped Justin, and he landed face-first against the foam padding of the post.
Justin couldn't tell if he had lost consciousness briefly when his head hit the corner, but he had no memory of the period between seeing the padding coming at him and the realization that Kattie had him pinned against it, her arms under his and her hands behind his neck. Sensing he was in trouble, Justin tried to fight his way out of the hold. Sticking his hands up straight, he tried to one side and slide himself out of Kattie's grip, but Kattie fell back, taking Justin with her and wrapping her legs around his waist to entrap him. Justin snarled and tried to power his way out of Kattie's grip, but she already interlocked her fingers against the nape of Justin's neck, and despite his superior strength, he didn’t have the leverage. Justin fought for every inch Kattie took, fighting until his shoulders burned, but Kattie finally got Justin fully locked down, pulling his arms straight up and stretching out his torso. It was Kattie's turn to torture her opponent.
Justin groaned as Kattie put pressure on his body. He tried to maneuver himself in ways so that Kattie would not abuse him as she pleased, but her hold was tight. What’s worse, her bust forced Justin’s back to be arched forward, stretching Justin’s body taut so that every sinew in his chest could be seen pressing through his skin. The camera’s gaze was on him now, examining him, its leer like a finger dragging down his supple trunk. Mr. Felonia’s breath was almost hoarse as he directed the camera from Justin’s chest, across his belly, and around Kattie’s grasping legs around Justin’s waist to settle between Justin’s legs. Justin snarled angrily at the camera, but the expression quickly melted into a miserable growl of pain.
Kattie rolled herself over, pushing Justin’s face into the mattress as her body pinned him against the ground. Justin’s claws unvelveted, the fabric of the mattress popping and ripping under the lion boy’s grasp as Justin fought to maintain focus through the pain of Kattie’s grip. Holding her opponent down for a moment, Kattie deftly turned herself around into a reverse position. Justin’s entire head disappeared between the sinking embrace of the mattress and the weighty press of Kattie’s breasts as Kattie got her arms under Justin’s and over his back. As Kattie got back to her feet, trying to bring her opponent up with her in a controlled grapple, Justin exploded back to life. Wrapping his arms around Kattie’s body and arms, Justin picked Kattie completely off of her feet until she was draped over his shoulder,and threw them both to the ground with all the force he could muster. All Kattie could do was scream as she was flattened under Justin. The mattress could only absorb so much and the force of the slam overwhelmed the protective padding, which reflected off of the concrete back into the bodies of the young fighters, causing them both to bounce with agonized groans upon impact.
The kids writhed on the ground for a while, Justin on top of Kattie. Mr. Felonia and his camera drifted across the bodies of the boy and the girl stacked upon each other as they convulsed with gulping breaths.Justin’s body became aware that it was on top of a sweating, panting, and warm full-figured female, causing the front of his shorts to tighten with anticipation. Yet, Justin was more interested in making pain than love. Getting to his knees, Justin grabbed another handful of Kattie's hair, but Kattie clamped her legs around his waist. Justin’s fists tightened as Kattie’s legs did the same. Justin flexed his core to fight against the scissors, but the press of Kattie’s thighs coerced a groan from Justin’s lips. Justin would have just bombed Kattie again to break the hold, but the muscles in his back and shoulders ached and were twitching from Kattie’s previous hold, so Justin would need time to get the energy back. Opting for a more straight-foward, brutish counter, Justin seized Kattie by the throat with both hands. A cry died in Kattie’s mouth with a gurgle as Justin crossed his thumbs and pressed them over her larynx like a vice. Indentations formed in Justin’s arms as he poured savage force around the girl’s neck, his fingers flexing to squeeze the unnatural pops and squeaks of interrupted breath from Kattie’s throat. Justin’s eyes burned with murderous intent, yet he failed to notice that, while he callously strangled Kattie into oblivion, Kattie had inched her legs up his body. His eyes had squirted and his breathing had become more labored when Kattie’s legs had reached his ribs, but he was so focused on watching Kattie’s inky black eyelashes droop and convulse that he failed to appreciate the danger until Kattie had released her grip just long enough to wrap her legs around his neck.
Kattie twisted and brought Justin to the ground, who roared in anger as his hands were torn away from her throat. As Kattie coughed and sputtered in her happy reunion with air, her legs struggled to contain a newly enraged Justin. Justin battled to get to his feet, but a hand yank in the other direction brought him down again. Vile vocabulary tried to crawl its way out of Justin’s throat, but the crush of Kattie’s thighs around his jaws and cheeks prevented all of it besides some angry, strained muttering. Hands clasped around Justin’s mane, close to the scalp, and pulled. Justin tried to his opponent in the eyes. Most of Kattie’s face was obscured by her heavy bosom, which bobbed and undulated in their struggle, but Justin could see just enough of Kattie’s eyes to see the satisfaction, eyes wreathed in her now-disheveled golden hair like a sunset of smug. Justin yet again tried to fight his way to a standing position, and yet again a twist from Kattie brought him low, this time cartwheeling onto his back. Now Justin’s face was completely obscured and pinned down by Kattie’s hips. Justin clawed desperately at Kattie’s posterior; he pulled at her swimsuit; he pulled on her tail; he grabbed a handful of Kattie’s butt with claws out, which elicited nothing but an accusation of being an asshole from Kattie. Justin’s snout was scrunched up under the weight of Kattie’s hips, and he could feel the camera’s presence hovering just out of his reach to record the humiliating hold. Worst of all, despite being pressed between the mattress and Kattie’s lap above, he could still hear his mother laughing again from ringside.
The pressure on the back of his head began to lessen, but when the pressure on his face stayed the same, Justin understood that Kattie was elevating his head, probably with ill intent.. Kattie drove Justin’s head back to the ground under her hips, raised him up again, and slammed him back down, bashing Justin’s head against the mattress again and again. Justin managed to turn his face to the side after the third blow so that he wouldn’t pass out from lack of air, but this was almost worse because now it was the side of his head that took the blow. For a fourth time, Justin’s head was bounced off the floor, then a fifth, then a sixth, a seventh, an eight time. By the tenth time, Justin’s arms had flopped helplessly to the sides, the repeated bashing having reduced Justin’s mental state to dizziness and confusion. He didn’t have the presence of mind to get up again as Katte got off of him to stand and lean over him. Her face, visibly wracked by exhaustion yet also beaming with pride, appeared to float around Justin’s field of vision as the outline of her hair glowed under the light behind it. Kattie smiled, childishly sticking her tongue out at Justin while pulling down the lip of the bottom lid of her left eye with her finger to expose the pink flesh. Justin could only groan in response to Kattie’s disrespect.
Grasping Justin by his hands, Kattie dragged the boy’s body and laid it parallel to the ropes in front of her father. One pink boot perched on Justin’s chest, then another sank into Justin’s belly with a strained moan from Justin, his torso forced to support Kattie’s entire weight. Grabbing the ropes, Kattie bounced experimentally and looked at her father.
“You ready, daddy?” she said through an eager smile.
“Y-yes, baby,” Mr. Felonia answered, now trembling with anticipation. “Do it!”
Kattie lept. A violently expelled cry of pain burst from Justin’s mouth when his chest folded under the meteoric impact of Kattie’s feet. Justin reflexively attempted to curl into a ball and protect himself, but the next impact caverned his stomach before he could. Kattie kept jumping, each landing causing the ropes to bounce and Justin to lurch with strangled, agonized howls. Mr. Felonia oscillated the camera between the boy being ruthlessly trampled under his daughter and to his daughter’s brimming breasts as they buoyed and rebounded from every jump. Intoxicated by the display of unfettered domination, Mr. Felonia slipped the hand that wasn’t holding the camera between his legs and began to brush his fingers against the crotch of his pants. Eartha too grew aroused at the sight of the girl demolishing her son, and one of her big hands kneaded one of her breasts between the fingers.
“How deliciously brutal,” Eartha commented, making a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle, a growl, and a moan.
Finally relenting, Kattie stepped down off of Justin. Justin coiled up as soon as the pressure released from his abdomen, rolling over and spasming in a coughing fit. Nausea and pain radiated from his stomach and ribs. Kattie bent, grabbed two handfuls of Justin’s mane and dragged him across the ring again, this time to the side facing the visitor’s couch. The memory of Kattie’s face, crested by the summer sky as they had stood on the pier earlier, the look of anger and the threat she had made to him burned hot in Justin’s mind. Kattie, still hanging onto Justin’s hair, roughly plopped her butt on her opponent’s midriff and looked impudently at her opponent’s mother. Eartha, sitting up in her seat, smirked at the little girl scoffing at her while perched on her boy. Kattie smirked back and pitched forward, then Justin’s world was darkness.
A breast smother, when delivered in anger, is actually a cruel hold, and so naturally was made exclusively for women, so Justin believed. It was a direct attack on a basic need, the need for air: as flesh is pressed over the face, over the eyes, over the nostrils, and over the mouth, the victim feels like they are drowning in something much thicker and heavier than water. Despite the ignorant assertion of those with a taste for female bodies, it’s an appalling act of violence. It was like smothering someone with a pillow, if the pillow was heavy, hot, and soaked in and smelling of sweat. The first instinct is confusion and disorientation: besides having one’s primary senses being cut off, it still is having breasts pressed into one’s face, and blood starts flowing to the genitals. This is a bad thing, because that is taking oxygen away from the muscles when it is most needed. The second instinct is to breathe in, but there is a massive blockage in the way, which leads immediately to the third instinct, panic. The resulting flailing causes the victim to quickly burn through their energy and succumb. Anyone who experiences a smother for the first time would believe they were going to die.
This was not Justin’s first breast smother, but it was certainly one of the worst. Most of the time he found himself on the wrong end of a pair of breasts, it was usually from some lady with more bust than skill putting her substantial development in a young boy’s face for sheer sexual thrill, but Kattie’s has been deployed to harm. Justin kept a cool head as Kattie’s breasts enveloped it, but he was hurt, worn out, and, of course, his libedo was fully awakened. Kattie wrapped her arms under Justin’s head and pulled him deeper into her bosom, scrunching his mouth and nose against her sternum. Justin could feel Kattie’s heart pound against his face with exertion and exhilaration, and his own heartbeat kept flashing down his own chest, lighting up the bruises he had gotten under Kattie’s boots, to end in his shorts with bittersweet spasms of pleasure. Justin’s arms wrapped around Kattie above him. He pulled at her suit and her hair futilely to relieve the pressure, but Kattie was unrelenting. The crushingly narrow space in Kattie’s cleavage sweltered between the burning bodies of the two contenders, and Justin’s mouth was tangy with sweat. Even as he fought for the last moments of consciousness, he felt a twinge of pity for all the other kids that Kattie had defeated in this same way.
Above him, Justin could hear Mr. Felonia’s reedy voice, though muffled through feet of flesh; he had gotten into the best position to watch his daughter’s massive breasts deluge Justin. “Seems like your boy is done for.”
Justin then her the voice of his mother, even more muffled, but obviously raised enough for her son to hear her: “I think this is what he called....’destroying her.’”
Fury welled up in Justin’s heart. The pain and fatigue melted from Justin’s arms as his hands planted themselves in Kattie’s armpits. With all the strength he had left, he began to push Kattie up. Kattie, realizing that Justin was not as trapped as she had thought, raised her hips up on her knees to get more of her weight on top of Justin. An intense deadlock followed, Justin trying to unwedge himself from Kattie’s breasts, Kattie trying to keep Justin wedged. Justin’s arms began to shake with the effort, but slowly, inch by inch, the top of Justin’s shoulders crawled out from under Kattie’s stifling bosom, then his neck writhing with convulsing ligaments and bloated blood vessels, then a firmly clenched jaw, and at last, with a despairing “No…” from Kattie, Justin’s black lip, which pulled back to a desperate hissing suction of hair into his mouth and lungs. Kattie dropped her body back down to close Justin back off from oxygen, but it was too late. With renewed strength, Justin pitched Kattie off of him, sending her flopping against the ropes, covering her face in heartbroken disbelief. Justin rolled over, coughing from drowning in his own slobber and Kattie’s sweat. Stars sparkled in Justin’s vision, and Justin rolled over, planted his head on closed fists, and his torso heaved with deep breaths to keep himself from passing out after having just escaped. Justin sat up on his heels, face turned skyward and mouth hanging open as he continued to gulp down lungfuls of air. The fur on his face and head was ruffled, and when he opened his eyes, the sclera were rosey. He looked over at Kattie, who had remained reclining in the corner where Justin had dumped her. Her eyes, looking at Justin from under the yellow tangle of her hair, betrayed fatigue; she had put her last reserves into the smother hold and had nothing left, while Justin had a little more to burn.
Justin crawled over to Kattie on all fours. Kattie, though drained, struggled to stay in the fight as she put her hand on Justin’s shoulder to slow his advance, but Justin grabbed Kattie by both of the straps of her bra. Justin stood, dragged Kattie onto wobbling legs and leaned against her into the ropes. Justin’s face pressed into Kattie’s cheek as Kattie turned away from Justin’s intrusion into her space. Their bodies, laboring to remain upright, wrapped around each other in a weak embrace that was more affection than violence. Justin gave a winded sneer of scorn at Mr Felonia’s and his camera as he loomed over them, turning hide his face behind Kattie’s and rest his mouth against her ear.
“Hey, I...wanted to say I’m sorry about what…” Justin rasped between breaths, “...about what I said at the pier...it was a good fight tonight.”
Kattie stared into the distance. Her hand traced its way up the boy’s spine until it cupped the back of his neck, and her enfeebled exhausted mind wavered between fighting on and accepting his embrace. “Thank you,” she finally stammered with a thin squeak.
“I just…” Justin paused, his own hand brushed down Kattie’s side down to her hip, “...I wanted you to know that...while you were still conscious.”
With a burst of energy, Justin had hauled Kattie onto his shoulders. Turning to the center of the ring, Justin firmly planted his feet, and, with a growl of herculean effort, slowly lifted Kattie’s body above his head. Mr. Felonia, who had been a dutiful documentarian of the contest up until this point, forgot his camera and nearly dropped it in shock, and Mrs. Felonia, who had grown surly and disinterested in the fight when the momentum had turned against Justin, had jumped to her feet and clasped her hands over her mouth at the sight of her daughter so completely outmuscled.
“Such a strong boy!” Mr. Felonia exclaimed.
“My strong boy,” Eartha corrected, who was now grasping her own breasts firmly with both hands.
Justin held Kattie aloft, his teeth naked and gnashed, his thin rippling chest thrust outwards, and his arms trembling. With a roar, Justin threw Kattie to the floor, adding as much force as he could to the assistance of gravity. Kattie bounced on impact, her body bowing upward before flopping back onto the mattresses, her hair flopping around, her arms and legs outspread, her breasts flapping and sloshing before they settled. Justin towered above the sprawled body of his opening before stepping over her body to stand astride her, face to face. Justin dropped to his knees and sat on Kattie’s chest, forcing a miserable grunt from her, and letting his tail drape over Kattie’s bust. Justin looked down at Kattie’s face between his legs, watching her eyes as they drifted down from his face, down his chest, and settled on the tent in his trunks. Justin had been erect since he had ended up on top of Kattie after he had bombed her, but he was rock hard now. It was a good length for a boy his age, but it looked like a massive white mountain that overshadowed Kattie’s whole vision from her perspective. Justin smirked thinly as he saw Kattie realize where her fate lay, flexing his pallus tauntingly.  Justin’s hands slipped gracefully into Kattie’s hair and grasped her skull, pulling her face into the fleshy gap between Justin’s plallus and his testicles. Mr. Felonia brought his camera in close to witness his daughter’s face disappear into the boy’s genitals, while Mrs. Felonia leaned over his shoulder to see as well. Justin stared them both in the eyes as he savored Kattie’s hot breath drift through his trunks. Kattie went through the basic instinct cycle: the shock, the failed attempt to breathe, and then the panic, though she was now so spent that her flailing was reduced to timid writhing. Justin pulled Kattie deep into his scrotum as he made her parents watch her slip out of consciousness, though a final cough and sputter made his cock throb almost to the point of exploding. Justin kept Kattie buried in his genitals for a few seconds after he felt her breath grow shallow, then let her head drop lifelessly to show that he had, indeed, won.
A slight, but satisfied, smile crept across Mr. Felonia’s face. With a nervous titter, he reached into the ring to lift Justin’s hand into the air. “We have a winner!” he announced. “Justin, that was just...amazing! Your mother was not exaggerating when she told us about you. Thank you so much for doing this match for us. We hope we can see much, much more of you.”
Justin chuckled, and curled his arms for Mr. Felonia to record a final display of victory. Slowly getting to his feet, he slid through the ropes only to be caught up in Mrs. Felonia eager arms. The neckline of her black dress slipped under Justin’s chin and rested it in her cleavage as she ground herself licentiously against the underage boy. Mrs. Felonia panted helplessly as she looked into Justin’s icy eyes. She closed her eyes and stooped to kiss him, but her lips met the palm of Justin’s hand as it clapped viciously around her mouth.
“Not on the lips,” Justin commanded, his other finger leveled at Mrs. Felonia’s face. “Never on the lips, understood.”
Mrs. Felonia wilted in Justin’s grip with a simpering mewl, muttering what sounded like praise for Justin’s manliness. Justin picked Mrs. Felonia onto his shoulder; though heavier than her daughter, Mrs. Felonia was still not too much for him, much to her delight. Justin turned around to look at Mr. Felonia to see if he had any objection to this scandalous treatment of his wife at the hands of a young boy. Mr. Felonia did not seem to care, too preoccupied with leering through his camera as his unresponsive child, pausing especially on her upturned breasts and grabbing himself so vigorously through his pants that Justin thought he might emasculate himself. Justin then looked at his mother, who rolled up her lip and gave him an approving thumbs up. Justin sighed, then, with Mrs. Felonia as his happy burden, ascended the stairs to find a bedroom.
*   *   *
It was well after dark after Justin got dressed and stumbled to the rental vehicle he and his mother had taken for the trip. He laid his back against the door, looking up at what few stars that could outshine the streetlights of the cul-de-sac that serviced the Felonias’ residence. He looked down and scanned the neighborhood to see if anyone had noticed him; there was not a soul to be seen, just high fences and unlit porches. With a sigh, he opened the door and climbed into the seat.
“Well, did you have fun with Betty?” Eartha asked. She had been waiting behind the steering wheel for him.
“I completely forgot her name,” Justin replied. He settled into his seat and let his head flop against the headrest. “I’d give her...a seven out of ten, and I think that might be because I was so turned on from the fight already. A dead fish would have been great after that. Do we have an ice pack? My neck is fucked up.”
Eartha dragged a cooler up from the back seat, fishing inside of it to produce an ice pack and a brown bottle of beer that turned misty white in the humid night air. When Justin saw the bottle, he smiled, disarmed.
“You never doubted me,” he said.
“Not for a second,” Eartha placed the cap of the bottle against a single fang, ripping it off with a pop and a hiss of disturbed hops and head, then handing the bottle to Justin. “Well, not quite. Things were looking a little grim for you when Kattie trampled you, but you pulled out a win anyway.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.,” Justin grumbled, reflexively rubbing his chest. “If she wasn’t stacked like she is, she wouldn’t be able to get matches because the other parents would say she is too rough, but everyone wants to see big tits, I guess. And her smotherhold, Jesus Christ, that was the worst one I’ve been in since...uh…”
Eartha smiled broadly at her son. “Since mine?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Since yours. So many kids getting...boob-boarded for the first time while their parents jerk off. Guh, sluts,” Justin scoffed before bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips.
“So, what do you think?”
The bottle sat tantalizingly at the rim of Justin’s mouth before it drifted away. “Okay, fine...you were right, I was wrong, Kattie’s tough enough to hang in the ring with us. Congratulations, you can get yourself a new toy to play with.”
“And?”
The bottle hung precariously over Justin’s lip again. His mouth salivated as the musk of wheat and barley drifted into his nostrils, but not a drop leaked from its container. “...and what?”
“Well,” Eartha rolled the words around in her mouth like marbles while her hands flipped over and back, “how do you feel about...making her a girlfriend?”
“Mom, no, not this again!” Justin protested, yanking the bottle from his mouth and pointing back at the Felonia’s front door, “Tonight was more than enough proof that I can get laid whenever I want.”
“It’s not about getting laid, dear; it’s about having a relationship. You’re both roughly the same age and you both share experiences that you can’t with most other kids, so I’m thinking that, maybe, you two can have more between each other than a few intense brawls.”
“Yeah, relationships are so important to you, that’s why you’re still with dad.”
Eartha’s expression changed. Her lips turned down, her prominent brow crumpled together, and her eyes glinted malignantly out of her unlit face. She enunciated her next few words discreetly, the last one dripping with threat like it was poison. “Low. Blow. Son.”
Justin's confidence shrank like a snowball under a blowtorch. He seemed to regress in years, retreating from his preteens down to his toddler years under the intensity of his mother’s glare. “Sorry, mom,” he admitted feebly.
Eartha’s expression softened again. “This is what I am talking about. I put up with your...snarky personality because I want you to open with me and I know it's partly an act you put on for clients, but I can tell you have been under a cloud lately, and I do wonder how much of your snarky act is just an act. Our relationship is, well, different, but I’m still your mother and I worry about you, and I can only do so much for you. I can only imagine that your...unique situation makes it difficult to make friends with other kids.”
“I have friends,” Justin insisted.
“Oh? What are their names?”
Justin was silent. The bottle rose again to his lips, paused, and fell back down into Justin’s lap as he looked out the window into the artificially lit street. With a sigh, Justin replied, “I’ll think about it.”
Eartha smiled again, warmly this time. Her hand slipped around Justin’s head, pulling it in to allow a peck on her son’s head. “I think you would make an adorable couple. And, at the very least, you finally have someone to share jobber duty with.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The bottle, after many interruptions, finally reached Justin’s mouth. Justin pitched his head back to take a swig, but as the intoxicating imbibement poured over his lips, over his teeth, and over his tongue, he lurched forward. A spray of beer soaked the dashboard in front of Justin, and Eartha’s titanic body shook in gale of laughter as Justin coughed and spat out his drink.
“How do grown-ups drink this!?”