Carly’s big night

Carly flexed her thick, bare thighs. She began to march forwards. With every step her thighs pulsed with calm, controlled energy. Coiled, and ready to strike.

The two fighters met in the middle of the ring, guards up high and cameras rolling from four different angles around them. Carly stood like she was ten feet tall, even though she actually had to look slightly up to see the taller Billy’s nervous face.

Billy looked timid. He was almost shaking as they faced off. Standing in front of each other, feeling each other out, waiting for someone to make a move. The involuntary shivering was not unlike his younger sister - but while Anna stood at ringside, trembling with excitement, the eldest sibling’s shakiness had a lot less to do with happy anticipation. Yes, Heather’s two beautiful children were vibrating at completely different frequencies.

Billy was nervous. He felt so blitzed. So caught off guard by all of this. How had it happened so fast? It seemed that in a flurry of actions and comments, all out of his control, Billy had been trapped in a corner. Put in a situation he couldn’t wriggle his way out of. And now he stood across from a thick-assed feminist who wanted him DOWN.

And she might fucking do it, too. For once, Billy actually doubted his ability to win. He KNEW he was better than Carly, in every single aspect of the sport, by an immeasurable amount. He was sure of it. But tonight? No, he didn’t feel at all confident that he could beat her. Not in his current state. Carly might just pack him up, here and now, just as she had almost done the other day.

But he couldn’t let it happen. Four cameras were pointed at him, capturing every angle in an extremely high framerate. He knew what that meant. He knew what this FIGHT meant. He knew what Carly's smug, eager little eyes meant. Billy took a deep breath, and tried to force a brave face. It wasn't very convincing. The tension in his shoulders betrayed his true feelings.

Carly didn’t have to put on an act. She was cool as can be. Excited, but not anxious. Eyes lidded, the picture of confidence. So completely assured of her ability to beat a boy, at least as far as her surface thoughts went in this moment. And boy, did she have a LOT of surface thoughts swimming around her head right now. Every single one of them in complete agreement - she was about to fuck the champ UP. This was her night. Matt and Anna's ritual pep-talk had put her perfectly in the zone.

The fighters circled each other a moment longer, guards up high. It had already gone on longer than a normal feeling-out process would. Carly found that very amusing. She knew she had Billy running scared. It was just like in their texts. All that fantasy, brought to life.

“I’m going to show you what it’s like to get knocked the fuck out, Billy,” she smiled. “I’m going to make you SLUMP~”

She didn’t give the champ a chance to reply. She suddenly shifted forward on one thick leg, and threw a punch at the side of his head, hard and fast. The strike was easily blocked, as Billy’s flawless guard was already right there - but the force of the blow bumped his own glove against his chin. He grunted as the meager tremors passed through him, and his mind went distant for just a moment.

Billy stumbled slightly, adjusting to the sudden wave of mild sleepiness, but Carly’s other fist was already coming in from the other side. “Hhnn!!” she sounded, eyes sharp and furious.

WHAM!

Once again, the blow was easily blocked by his guard. Or was it…? Carly looked thrilled. It was almost as if bumping his own gloves against his chin was her entire plan…

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!

Bump, bump, bump.

Again and again. Billy’s gloves absorbing the strikes, and just slightly nudging his sweet spot. Rubbing up against it. Like a slow, gentle pinball machine. Back and forth, side to side. Billy's body tightened with tension, his guard closing up even more, moving in automatic confusion as his fighter instincts detected a need for further protection.

Bringing his gloves even closer to his chin wasn’t a smart move.

Carly’s wild, relentless combination continued to hammer away at his guard, one side and then the other, putting everything she had into every blow. With each punch, a small portion of the force he absorbed surged through his chin from his own gloves. Sinking in, right through his defense. And with each punch, his eyes got just a little bit more glassy. His chin was contained, safely tucked away between his gloves, and being treated to a mild bump-fest that had him tensing up… Or maybe, relaxing?

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!

Bump, bump, bump…

Any trained boxer would think Carly’s strategy was ridiculous. Moving forward, and unloading directly onto his guard. Wasting all that energy. Tiring herself out. But those trained boxers would change their tune if they only got a look at Billy’s eyes. CARLY wasn't the one getting tired here.

Fuck yes. That's it, Billy. Relax…~

Carly liked what she was seeing. That glassiness in his eyes, that got even more glazed with each little bump. Anna’s prediction had been right. Hitting Billy on his guard was eroding his focus, and sinking his mind. Carly wouldn’t get a knockout like this, not soon anyway, but it was obviously wearing him down just as she had hoped.

“RRRAHHH!!” Carly roared, arms burning with a strain that she ignored as she continued marching her target back, throwing everything she had at him.

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!

Bump, bump, bump…

Her thick legs coiled like springs, then fired off like mighty cannons. Tensing and extending, lending their power to her overworked arms. Billy had no choice but to retreat even further, backing away slowly, bringing his guard even tighter to his chin.

But that “Achilles chin” had nowhere to hide. Even shelled up behind his defense, she was getting through to it. And the closer he brought his gloves in to protect it, the more force that sank into it every time his guard was struck. Billy’s wonderful sweet spot couldn’t hide from Carly. And she was abusing his automatic defensive instincts flawlessly.

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!

Bump, bump, bump…

Carly grinned, looking fierce, and laid off her attack for a moment. She had started to wear herself out, attacking him like that for so long. Sweat dotted her forehead, and she was breathing heavy.

“Girls can box JUST as hard as boys,” Carly growled between breaths. “I’m going to show you. Don’t sleep on these hands, Billy~!”

Carly was proving to have very fast hands indeed. Ignoring her muscle fatigue, she surged forwards once again, hitting him hard, pouring all of her strength and power into the assault. Most of the force was not getting through, except in those slight chin bumps.

Bump, bump, bump… Each side, one after the other, back and forth, over and over again…

This time Billy tried to hold his ground instead of backing away from her. That only allowed Carly to pour it on even thicker, shifting from side to side and using her mighty legs to throw hands at him from all angles.

She knew she was expending a lot of energy with how wild and hard her hits were, but it was worth it. Billy might not have been falling to his knees, but the fact he hadn’t thrown anything back yet made it pretty obvious his mind was somewhere else. Slipping further and further away with each slight bump, each fraction of force that reached his sweet spot…

THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!

Bump. Bump. Bump…

Billy shuddered, giving up his position and retreating slightly more, feeling confused and tense as he just kept his guard up. It was all he could do. His arms felt almost locked in place, an automatic instinct to protect itself being met with confusion at the brain-wobble he was experiencing regardless.

Carly was exhilarated. Everything was working perfectly. Her muscles didn’t even care that they were getting tired. Didn’t even feel it anymore. Not when she was driving him back and watching his eyes go distant. Billy’s arms were frozen stiff, and those gloves hovered so, so close to his sweet chin.

Fucking Carly… What had she said in the locker rooms? “Your chin isn’t going to pass the chump test”? Why did remembering that make him feel so much weaker…?

Why did the thought of getting punked by this annoying loudmouth make his chin tingle in surrender? Why did his brain go fuzzy every time he thought about Carly’s promise to RETIRE him? To make him slump over and over again, in front of his clubmates, until they had no more faith in him… Until he QUIT… Until he went on a losing streak to Carly so massive, that he gave up the whole sport?

What a story… What a legend. An indestructible, prodigy champion, getting ended over and over again by a fat-assed fucking-

“Guuahh!”

Deciding she had got his eyes glazed enough, Carly changed tactics. Suddenly her punches went lower, a fast, trained combo thwacking into his unprotected body. The air rushed out of him as those white gloves slammed him empty.

Billy’s guard came down to protect his chest and abs, but his defense was sloppy. Slow to unlock from its tense position up high. Each time he moved to block a punch, Carly had already landed it and two more after. She was a feisty wolverine, rapidly shifting and attacking him from all different angles as her waning arms used all of the force her legs could generate to assault his incredible body. Growling with every hit.

Carly’s wide grin was almost crazed. She was actually beating the shit out of him. Pummeling his abs so much, and watching him flounder. Last time, he had put up a real fight - would probably have WON, if Carly didn’t throw that illegal kick. But his skill had clearly slipped off a mountain since then. Either that, or Carly’s new targeting strategy was really doing the trick on woozy old Billy.

Unfortunately for the champ, a long night’s rest hadn’t been enough to recover from Heather’s loaded gloves KO last night. Not when he had stuck his chin out and allowed her to line up the perfect blow on him. And Matt had already put a crack in him. Those opening bumps to the chin were all Carly needed to lock him up and slow him down. She had expended so much energy smashing against his guard, investing in a hope. Investing in a dream. And now, she was reaping the rewards, and his brain was too slow to keep up.

Carly was feeding off of Billy’s waning energy. Exhilarated, and thrilled, and wild. She looked like a firework. Bursting and beautiful and flying. Uncontrolled, as she hammered away at his godlike physique. Making him gasp and flail, always two steps behind her.

WHAMWHAMWHAM, WHAM, WHAM!!

She finally finished her near-never-ending bodyshot combo, hopping back two feet, pausing to catch a breath and let her completely spent arms recover some. Despite how much her arm muscles were screaming to just dangle from her sides, Carly stood with her guard up, like any good fighter would. But at this point, she wasn’t worried about actually needing it.

Billy let out an embarrassing whine, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his abused torso. Carly loved that sound.

“You’re slipping…~” she teased, a predatory glint in her eye. “And soon you’ll be sleeping.”

She could hardly believe what a bit of guard-hammering had done to him. This was going so well. His chin had failed the fucking chump test.

Gasping for breath and thankful for the reprieved, Billy backed away and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. It felt like his brain had been rattling around in his head, but he didn’t understand why. She hadn’t even touched his face once. And all that bodywork had really drained the energy out of him…

Trying to take back control, he lifted his gloves and circled around her, trying to make sure he kept space behind him to flee in case she engaged him before he was ready. He was still sucking in air, but he tried to steel himself and prepare for a counter-assault of his own.

Carly was pumped up. She knew how bad he was losing. She knew what this represented for girls everywhere. And she wanted to make sure Billy knew, too.

“What happened to that unbreakable chin? You look like you’re in a daze,” Carly teased, loud enough to be heard on the recording. And then quieter, leaning forward so that only Billy could hear - looking cheeky behind her guard, as her face poked out from between those white gloves: “Did your mom do something to it~?”

Even in his foggy daze, Billy’s eyes shot wide open. Alert and panicked. His body froze up, all thoughts of a counterattack pushed to the side.

Holy fuck. Carly knew. Carly KNEW? How could she-? What did Anna tell her!?

Carly laughed at his expression. Distress and horror all at once. It looked like Anna had been right, as usual. Billy’s mom really had created a weak spot when she caught him on the chin.

Fuck, that was funny. The unbeatable champion getting put on his ass by his MOM. A punch from his MOM had floored him, and set the scene for this incredible moment. Carly only wished she had seen it happen for herself. Damn, she wanted to meet that lady.

All sons should have a mom like that, to put them in their place when they get out of line. To open the way for girls like Carly to really shine…

Carly’s thick bare legs fired like pistons as she punched Billy again, catching him unprepared in his stunned state. Her arms were weak and felt like jelly, but so long as they could stiffen up enough to be a conduit for her inexhaustible legs, they could do some damage. Especially when all she had to do was bump that guard around a bit…~

Matt stood at ringside, shocked. Actually seeing it for himself, it more than lived up to the second-hand stories he had been told.

Carly was DESTROYING him. Matt had a front-row view to the smug destruction of a man who had always been so cocky. Billy’s knees were getting weak. As Carly turned up the pressure, ignoring how numb her biceps were getting, Billy’s guard bumped against his chin even harder. His head was getting knocked around by his own gloves, as Carly advanced on him.

Looking panicked, Billy threw a wide, swinging hook back at her, but Carly leaned out of the way and shoved his arm dismissively, before resuming her assault. Having failed his opportunity for a counter-blow, Billy had to put his guard back up again. For all the good that did him…

Bump. Bump. Bump. His own gloves, bumping against his chin. Confusing him. Weakening him…

His legs wobbled. Actually fucking wobbled. That was insane. Carly was hammering his guard, and she was making him WOBBLE. Fuck, forget the “chump test”. His chin wasn’t even going to pass the BUMP test. He was getting fucking dominated. The more it happened, the longer it went on, the more Matt was in awe.

It didn’t feel real. But it was undeniable. Billy really was going to lose to Carly. It wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. It was SECONDS away from happening.

Carly had a wild grin on her face as she marched him down all the way to the ropes, relentlessly assaulting his face via chin-bump transmission.

“Are you getting sleepy~?” Carly teased, dancing around the dazed boxer. “Come on, tough guy… Don’t pass out on me YET!”

Her thick legs flexed, launching a mighty blow that gave his chin an extra-strength bump. Medium, instead of light, even through the glove's partial absorption. Billy was really wobbling now.

“That’s right… That’s right!” Carly bragged. “Just let me- GHNN!”

Before she could react, Billy threw out a weak jab that caught Carly on the forehead and knocked her head back, followed by a hook that Carly just managed to duck under and counter with a driving uppercut to his ribs.

Billy groaned and stumbled away, clutching the point of impact with his gloves. Carly was breathing heavily, looking a little shell-shocked. As she breathed heavily, the panic on her face shifted into an angry expression, with fire behind her eyes, but a small smirk at the corner of her lips too.

It had been a punch to the forehead that had knocked her to the mats, all those years ago. The final blow when Billy had turned her into a bimbo, when he had humiliated her in front of everybody. His gloves had hit her forehead, and turned his brain dull and stupid. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but today, she had hardly felt it…

She was stronger now. Billy had jabbed her on the forehead, and she was FINE.

“I knew it…” Carly whispered to herself. “I knew I didn’t have a weak brain… I knew I didn’t have a glass jaw…”

A small shudder passed through her as she imagined the embarrassment Billy could have just caused her, if he had managed to knock her out. If she had been taken out in a single punch after all of this setup, with Anna and Matt both watching at ringside and four cameras pointed in her direction.

But he hadn’t managed to knock her out. And with that, a long-held private insecurity of Carly’s melted away… Smug pride filled the space it had once been.

Carly had a very strange relationship with knockouts. Anyone would, after seeing themselves go out the way Carly had been forced to. Carly didn’t think of KOs as an unavoidable consequence of force meeting biology, she saw them as a submission. In Carly’s mind, a fighter could only get knocked out if they were weak-willed. If they GAVE UP. If they weren’t a true fighter. If they didn’t want to win badly enough.

It was part of why she had felt like such a bimbo for losing to Billy, when she was trying to make a point and stand up for girls everywhere. It was part of the reason she had given Matt such a hard time whenever he “let” himself get knocked out by Billy. And it was ALL of why the thought of having her very own in-built glass jaw had given her so much stress.

The concept horrified Carly. If she had a glass jaw, if she was easy to knock out, that meant her convictions were weak. Did she really BELIEVE any of the things she said? Was she a quitter? Was she a LOSER? Could anyone just bend her to their will, with a simple smack to the forehead? God, just the thought of having an EASY BRAIN had given her nightmares. The idea that she might end up knocked out again, and prove herself to be all talk… The way it might BREAK her, if it ever happened.

She had spent so many years, worrying she couldn’t take a punch. Going to bed with Matt, only to wake him up in the middle of the night, stressed out and begging him to reassure her that she hadn’t been snoring. That her brain didn't find too much comfort in hiding from the realities of the world behind a relaxing, deep snooze. But now she had her answer.

Her keen, feminist mind wasn’t weak. It was STRONG. It was FORTIFIED. She knew she didn’t have a glass jaw…

No. Cracking her mind would take more than Billy had in him. She was invincible. Billy had knocked out so many men, he had ONE-PUNCHED so many men, and even HE couldn’t overcome the new-and-improved Carly’s fighting spirit. She had never been more sure of her convictions than in this moment. Never been more firm in her self-belief.

Carly couldn’t hold back a laugh as she stared at Billy, hunched over and wobbling.

“Oh my god. Look at you. LOOK at you!” she shouted, relief and delight washing over her. “Do you have ANY idea how long I’ve been waiting to see that smug smile get wiped off your face?”

Her thick booty cheeks were twitching in excitement. Actually TWITCHING. Carly’s ass was begging her to use its power, BEGGING her to let it generate the blow that would FINISH Billy once and for all. It was her most important weapon, so highly trained for exactly this moment, and it wanted to be used.

The dense muscles packed into her booty shorts twitched so much, with so much power, that they actually lifted her ass. Dropped it. Jiggled it. The movements were small, but Carly’s ass was wobbling around with sporadic, enthusiastic twitches inside those booty shorts, building towards the final blow. Revving up like a powerful engine.

“You’re pretty fucking stupid, thinking you can do whatever you want… You couldn’t even handle my ASS, you loser,” Carly grinned, getting excited as heat built up inside her small chest.

Yes. BILLY was the one with a weak brain. Not her. Carly’s mind was a feminist bastion. Dedicated. Fortified. STRONG. Billy was the weak one here… He was the one getting woozy. And if he wanted to trade punches, Carly would gladly oblige…

“I’m going to own you… You’re fucking DONE, Billy. You’re DONE!”

Finally set free, Carly’s ass flexed, the whole booty stopping its twitching all at once and working in perfect, smooth unison as Carly took a step forward. As soon as her foot touched down, she engaged all the dense coils of muscle in her thick thighs, sending strength up into her next punch. Even her numb, fatigued bicep managed to engage, giving whatever it had left to add to the momentum of her glove. Carly’s right fist snapped forward with a powerful jab of her own, right to Billy’s forehead.

“Guuohh!” the champ gasped.

The hit stunned him bad, knocking his head back and sending a clear message to his mind that it should power the fuck down. Billy was in no position to dodge the follow-up hook that came for his sweet chin next, as Carly completed the sequence he had just failed to land on her.

“I fucking GOT your ass!” she roared.

WHAM!!

As the punch swung towards him, there was a look of fear and panic on Billy’s face. But as Carly’s glove slammed into his chin, landing RIGHT on his worn-down sweet spot, that expression changed.

It was hard to catch in the rapid motion of the moment, but if you had watched it in slow-motion, you would have seen his panicked eyes grow dull and distant. Thoughtless. His nervous expression shifted serene and content, dopey and satisfied, as his mind was put to sleep. As his mind relaxed. And he gave up his convictions for Carly, surrendering to her will. Fulfilling her dream. And then…

BOOOOM!!

Carly’s gloved fist crashed against the tip of his chin from the other side, turning his head along with it. She had clocked him good. He was already out, and she'd landed a third blow before he could hit the floor. All at once his legs gave out from under him and he was no longer upright.

“YES!!” Carly roared as Billy toppled over in front of her. “Fucking YES!”

“Daaaaammn, Carly ICED him!” Anna jeered, both in genuine celebration and for the sake of the cameras.

DOOOOUUN!

Billy hit the canvas HARD. Already out cold, and twitching violently. Knocked the fuck out in front of all those cameras. Shaking and shuddering, snoring loudly. His eyes crossed stupidly as his body shook and vibrated so bad that Carly could feel it through the canvas beneath her feet.

“He’s TWITCHING!” Anna shouted from ringside, full of overwhelming excitement as if it were her very first time seeing Billy go down. “Oh my god, she’s got him TWITCHING!”

“HHHHHOOUUAAGHHHH!!” he sounded like a wild hog, snoring loudly as his body was wracked with involuntary motion. His legs were kicking out, muscles firing off impulses at random, brain completely shut down.

“You LOSE! You fucking LOSE, Billy!!” Carly shouted in celebration. “Sleep, BITCH!”

It was such a clean knockout. Billy was deep fucking under. He knocked out so cleanly, you would never believe his reputation if you saw him now. No wonder the girls were celebrating so loudly.

But from the side, someone was having a very different reaction to Anna and Carly.

“Wh-What the fuck…” Matt murmured, aghast. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and he couldn’t look away.

He was snoring. Billy was SNORING. His whole chest was heaving and shaking and he was fucking SNORING. Carly had fucking destroyed him. In one moment, he’d gone from never losing a fight to… THIS. For HER.

Billy was taking it badly. REALLY badly. Matt never could have imagined this. This was so… So fucking complete. He had dreamed about putting Billy down so he wouldn’t beat the ten count… But THIS? Seeing him out COLD? Twitching? SNORING? It was… It was fucking impossible. And yet, Carly had done it.

It wasn’t what Matt had expected from tonight at all. This was NOT what Matt had planned, or prepared for, or even fantasized about when he imagined getting a win over Billy for himself. Not this. This wasn’t even possible.

A knockdown hard enough that Billy couldn’t get his legs under him in time, sure. Maybe two, four seconds of sleep at the most, before he woke up just slightly too woozy to continue. That was the kind of knockout Matt expected. Billy just barely coming up short of the ten count, and losing his aura of invincibility once and for all. This? This was something else. This was completely fucking different.

Boxers often exaggerated, when they talked about finishing a fight. “I knocked you out cold,” to mean an opponent didn’t beat a ten count. “I put him to SLEEP,” to mean he looked woozy after getting back up. Billy was the only boxer Matt knew who was actually telling the truth each and every time he made one of those comments about an opponent he’d beaten. And now… He was on the other side of it.

This was no exaggeration. No encouraging pre-fight words of affirmation for Carly, meant only to get her in the zone. No groaning against the ropes while the ref waved the fight off. This was real. Billy was out cold. Actually sleeping. The iron-chinned champ was snoozing up a storm, because Carly had hit him right on that sleepy sweet spot.

Matt’s eyes bulged out of his head as the sheer severity of Billy’s knockout took him by surprise, his stomach rising to his throat. For several seconds he felt awful. Guilty, and awful. He was responsible for this. He had brought Billy here, and made him get in the ring with Carly. He had done this to the champ, his oldest friend. Then, as the feelings of guilt washed over him… His tense body relaxed. He chuckled. Then, he laughed.

“Billy, Billy, Billy…” Matt smiled, shaking his head.

The champ was taking a full-on power nap. No doubt the craziest snooze of his life. He had been completely wrecked by Carly, and taken his first knockout just about as badly as a boxer ever could. Matt had NEVER KO’d that badly for Billy, and now his girlfriend - the girl who had cried herself out of the boxing club with a 0-8 record - had floored the champion into a total, total, sleeping knockout.

Matt’s cock was throbbing in his pants, seeing that unbeatable prodigy brought so low. He couldn’t believe it was real. Carly’s might, her dreams… She had made it happen. She had done it. She had beaten a boy. She had knocked out BILLY. And when she talked about it later, she wouldn’t have to exaggerate one bit.

Carly squatted down over the top of the fallen champ, grinning wildly at his snoozing face. Her ass hovered above his strong chest. His violent thrashing and loud noises had settled down into a slow, steady snore, and a peaceful stillness interrupted by only an occasional twitch or snoring shudder. Below Carly's bombshell bubble butt, his chest was rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Her thick booty almost wagged in gratitude, as she squatted down low right above him.

She was silent for a moment, listening to him snore and fucking loving it. Then, with a deep breath to prepare herself, Carly’s face went serious. And she started counting. Real slow.

“One,” she said, pausing and letting the word hang in the air.

It hung heavy. Heavy with meaning. Heavy with importance.

“Two,” Carly said after several seconds had passed.

Anna gasped, heart fluttering so fast she thought it might fly out of her chest. This was it. It was about to be official.

“Three,” Carly said, taking it one number at a time. The slowest, most assertive count you could imagine. Looking him right in the face, squatting just above him, so close to the action. “Four.”

Her voice was firm, and stoic. She looked so fucking hot in her booty shorts and sports bra, squatting over the top of him. Her bulky ass dropped down low, hovering above his strong, shuddering chest. Snores escaped him like a waterfall.

“Five,” she said. “Six.”

Carly didn’t allow any satisfaction to creep into her voice, or her expression. Not yet. This was too important. Matt and Anna were totally silently, giving the weight of the moment full respect. Anna wasn’t even breathing.

“Seven,” Carly said. “Eight.”

Anna’s legs clenched together, and she fought to hold back a needy whine. This was it…

“Nine,” Carly said. The penultimate number.

She held still for a long time. Billy’s grunting, ugly snores filled the silence of gym. Carly allowed several long, heavy seconds to pass. Drinking it in. Watching him closely. And then…

“Ten,” she said with finality. Captured forever on the four cameras around them. Billy, counted out by Carly, while the fighting feminist squatted her booty down low over his chest. “Knockout. Fucking knockout, Billy.”

Carly took a deep breath, and held it. After several seconds, she let it go in a long sigh. Relief and release flooded her system.

Still not allowing any emotion to cross her face, Carly pulled off her right boxing glove, setting it down beside her foot. She reached out and clutched Billy’s chin in her deceptively delicate hand, silently and expressionlessly tilting his head to get a better look at him. Analyzing him like she was inspecting his worth. Billy’s head rolled from side to side at her whim, offering no resistance. Completely at the mercy of the plain girl who had taken him out. The feminine hands that had bumped his chin around, put him to the test, and then knocked him out were now leading him by the chin, and he just had to take it.

Carly stared deep into his glassy eyes. That handsome face, soundly asleep. Lips open in a strange shape, as his jaw hung open and his chin was clutched. A foot planted either side of his manly torso, and a bulky ass hovering low just above him. Carly's thick legs were bent in a way that bulged her thighs out and made them look even bigger.

She looked him in the eyes. Stared right through them. Right into him.

At last, a smile crossed her lips. A small, beautiful laugh slipped out of her. Those legs of steel tensed with glory and glee. Yes. Oh, FUCK yes. Her hand tightened around Billy’s chin in a deadly squeeze, and those smiling lips parted.

She had some choice words for the fallen champ. Words she wanted immortalized on the cameras.