Carly searched for a place she could spar

Carly had been nervous and unsure of where to go to find an opponent. She definitely wasn’t returning to the boxing club at the college, but the idea of going anywhere else terrified her almost as much.

What if, after all this time, she got knocked out just as badly? Just as QUICKLY?

What if she had to return to Luke, someone who really believed in her, and tell him that she’d been left twitching and snoring on the mats? Oh god, the LOOK her would surely give her… The pity…

He seemed to honestly think Carly could be at least a mid-level amateur competitor, but wasn’t it possible that his scale was off after so long working with ditzy moms? Maybe her thick, powerful legs weren’t enough to make up the skill difference. Maybe there were other girls out there who would kick her lights clean out. Fuck, maybe she just had a natural tendency to get knocked out.

It was a fear that Carly hadn’t even shared with Matthew. A totally private worry which only poked its head up in fleeting, dark moments - the truth was, a deeply buried part of Carly felt certain she had a weak brain. That she had a glass jaw. That she was always just a single punch away from a deep snooze. Carly suspected that her chin was just as vulnerable as a baby calf, and the thought horrified her.

What a weak girl.

By this point, Carly had a lot of confidence in her body. And she USUALLY had a lot of confidence in her kickboxing, too. It was empowering, and brought her a lot of pride. She loved the way she looked, and she loved the way it felt when a kick landed just right. She felt cool, powerful, and self-assured. But whenever the idea of an official, on-the-records match came up, it briefly melted that confidence away. Suddenly she wasn’t the loud-and-proud feminist who could slam her legs into her target’s head. She was a meek, anxious girl who was worried about competing in any way that would be tracked forever.

The girl inside Carly who had once gone around looking for fights, demanding opponents, and had been so full of fire, wanted so desperately to come out again. The girl who had thrown 100% of her energy into every sparring match. Who had convinced herself she was just as good as all of the boys, if not better. The girl who told everybody, loudly, that she was going to prove them all wrong. She was begging to come out again. But that girl just couldn’t get past that final barrier. That little voice that told her you’re only going to embarrass yourself again, you silly cow.

Hitting pads was one thing. Strutting around with confidence was one thing. Loving her thick, powerful lower body was one thing. But an actual amateur kickboxing match? Or another amateur boxing match, at her college boxing club, after all these years?

No. She would find another, more mediocre club to have a couple of simple sparring matches. That would suit her just fine.

Her 0-8 amateur boxing record still haunted her. Carly had never been able to get rid of that 0. She knew that if she started off an amateur kickboxing record at 0-1, it would devastate the confidence she’d spent so long rebuilding.

Carly still admired her buff ass and thick, powerful legs - those lethal weapons she had grown to love, and loved to grow, but was too anxious to pull the trigger with. Not in a fight that would go on her record, anyway. The way she could switch from confident and powerful to totally timid, seemingly on a dime, was a testament to the power that the shameful memory of defeat held over her. The way her internal humiliation warred against her natural boisterous pride.

But, as Carly was anxiously thinking about where she should go for some decent competition, something happened. Carly’s attitude began to change, when Matt let something slip one day. One delicious, unbelievable thing that had sent Carly’s heartbeat into deep, throbbing pulses that she could feel in her neck.

“You know, uh… Billy’s been kinda weird lately,” Matt had said over the phone to Carly, after one of his club sessions had ended.

Her ears perked up.

“…Weird how?” she asked. There was a hint of hope in her voice, but it was a cautious hope, like she didn’t truly expect it to be fulfilled.

“He’s, um… You know. Worse. Distracted. I actually think I, uh… I’m pretty sure I could knock him out,” Matt said. “If I wanted to.”

Carly’s hands tightened around her phone, and her powerful thighs clenched together, squeezing her slowly-tingling pussy. She sucked in a gasp of air and held it for a moment.

“Oh my god. Do it,” she breathed. “Please. Knock him the fuck out.”

Matt shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him.

“It wouldn’t feel right. It’s not like I suddenly improved enough to earn the win, he just… I think something’s up with him. He’s not paying as much attention. It’s like he’s thinking about something else.”

Carly’s heart was pounding. A faint, needy whine had entered her voice.

“But he needs to go down…” she spoke the words in a hiss, filled with desperate need. “He needs to go to sleep… Don’t you want to see him slump?” she was almost begging Matt to take the shot. Her voice held a cooing, sexual tone that Matthew had heard in private several times before. “Come on, Mattie… Put him to sleep… Put him to sleep, for me… I KNOW you want him to get taken down a peg, so why don’t you just DO it? And send me pictures of his fucking face after… I have to see his face when it finally happens.”

Matt nodded. His confident voice faltered slightly, and he gulped. “That’s, uh, why I’m calling you,” he said, struggling to bring himself to say this part. “With all the work you’ve done at your kickboxing class, I thought it might help you to come to the gym and spar with him. Finally get over what happened way back.”

Carly paused. Was Matt saying what she thought he was?

“…How bad IS he, exactly…?” Carly’s voice was low, conspiratorial. “Are you saying… Fuck, Matt, do you think I could knock Billy OUT?”

On the other side of the phone, Matthew laughed. It was automatic, and he probably shouldn’t have done it. He pulled the sound back in.

“Ah, no, Carly, no way. But I think it would do you some good to spar him a little. To see him… You know… Diminished. To see he’s not invincible, he’s just another guy,” Matt said. “Honestly, seeing him like that is still really fucking weird for me, I’m not sure I can actually believe it. But don’t get your hopes up about knocking him out. I mean, none of the other guys at the gym have been able to stop him. Third place is a long way down behind me and Billy, you know?”

Carly clenched her jaw. She had really been hoping this was her chance. But she supposed it made sense. Billy’s skills slipping behind Matthew was one thing, but if he had become totally useless, one of the other guys would’ve knocked him out already. For Billy, “bad” just meant imperfect, and Matt might have been the only guy in the gym who could even notice the difference.

“Just spar him a little, spot all of his new weaknesses, exploit them when you can, then hug it out when it’s all over,” Matt said. “Show yourself that he’s not invincible. If you catch him on a bad day, you might even ‘win’. As much as you can in a sparring match, anyway.”

Carly had heard enough. Her mind was set. She was nervous, and anxious, but she would give it a try. She would see the new Billy that Matt was telling her about. She needed to see this for herself.

And on the day that she did, she liked what she saw.

It was shocking. Empowering. Not only had she been able to hold her own against him, but she had actually been fucking winning. Truly winning. I’m-about-to-knock-your-sleepy-ass-OUT, winning.

Carly didn’t know anything about how exhausted and worn out Billy had been left from working for Karen, so when she’d taken Billy right up to the very edge of the knockout his mind had never yet tasted, the only conclusion Carly could come to was that Matthew must have underestimated her. Must have misjudged her new skills. Because she had been THIS fucking close to knocking Billy out, once and for all. THIS close to the ultimate victory. THIS close to beating a man, the “greatest” boxer, in the most definitive way. And the only thing that had stopped her was a coach blowing a whistle.

Sure, getting there had taken Carly putting in 100% of her effort, and even throwing an illegal (and unintentional!) kick to the solar plexus which halted his momentum. But that didn’t matter when the end result was Billy, fucking BILLY, slumping back against the ring post in a daze, while Carly slammed hook after hook into his face, eagerly watching the sharp intelligence fade from his eyes with each heavy connection. Watching his strong body slump forward, his mighty arms growing heavier along with his heavy eyelids. Watching her gloves whip his head from side to side, each strike leaving him duller and more relaxed. LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT!

She had tasted it. She’d had him in her sights. She had watched his fight IQ and unbeatable aura drain all fight long. She had seen him grow desperate and weak, wilting under her punches. She had forced “the king of the gym” to retreat into his corner, and she had just been lining up the punch to end it all - and then at the last moment, it had been taken from her.

Matthew couldn’t believe his ears when he’d heard how it all went down. He hated that he hadn’t been there to see it for himself. On the other side of the phone just after the club session ended, Carly’s voice was smug and triumphant, teasing Matthew for “underestimating” her. Matthew’s breath had come heavy and hot as he listened to Carly describe Billy’s desperate face. The face he made when he knew he was LOSING. The way his eyes grew dumber and dumber with every punch until… No! They stopped her, just before she could-?

It was an incredible night for both of them. But it still felt like a piece was missing.

Matt had thought that getting battered around a bit by Carly might be the reality check to get Billy’s head back in the game, so he could be a worthy rival again - might put his ego back down low, so he’d be a bit less smug and Matt would have something he could tease him over if he ever got too rowdy and out of line. “Remember when Carly came back and gave you a run for your money?” he would be able to tease his friend.

At the same time, the friendly spar would help Carly finally get over the past. If she could just put up a decent fight, she might finally let that night from years before go. Five minutes of sparring, instead of a six second knockout. And even if Billy was at his best, Matt knew he wasn’t the type of guy to go for a knockout in sparring anyway, so the worst possible result for Carly couldn’t have been too bad.

Still, Matt’s guilt at sharing Billy’s diminished might with Carly had initially made him glad he wouldn’t be there in person. He wasn’t sure he could face Billy after selling him out like that. But it wasn’t supposed to be anything crazy. It was just supposed to be one sparring match, to help set two people Matt cared about back on course.

But now that he knew Carly had almost finished him… FINISHED Billy, the glorious prodigy who was supposed to be untouchable… The idea was impossible to ignore. Matt felt incomplete. He needed Billy to get slept. He needed his best friend to drop unconscious at the feet of his thick-legged, frizzy-haired ex. He needed to know that Billy, big bad Billy, got dropped by a GIRL.

Matthew knew he was betraying Billy. That he had sold out his oldest friend to a girl who wanted nothing more than for him to drop. That was what made it so fucking hot. Matt wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be there in person when it finally happened, or if he would feel too guilty… But he definitely WANTED it to happen. And if he couldn’t face being there in person when it finally did, he would be relying on Carly to share ALL of the details with him, down to the faces and noises Billy was making in each moment of the fight.

Besides, Billy deserved it. He wouldn’t be able to act all smug and superior after Carly knocked his fucking lights out.

In the phone call, Carly had intentionally omitted the kick she’d thrown that had turned the tides. The moment when her thick thigh muscle had slammed a foot into Billy’s chest and driven the wind out of him. As far as Matt knew, Carly had driven Billy to the edge of sleep with just fundamental, clean boxing. Punches only. And when Matthew asked around the club, “did Carly really beat up Billy in a sparring match?”, all he got was confirmation of Carly’s story - no mention of the kick then either.

Holy shit. Carly was telling the truth. She outboxed Billy. The idea got Matt so hot.

All that smugness. All that talk of being a perfect fighter. Never defeated, never knocked out. All those losses on Matt’s record - the ONLY losses on Matt’s record - that had gone to Billy. “Maybe you can clear the gap one day, huh?”

He wanted the champ snoozing deep. He wanted Billy’s brains scrambled by Carly’s punches. He wanted Billy to sink to his knees, moaning low and swaying in place, then get knocked down HARD to the mats. He wanted Carly to drink in all the glory of wiping out an unbeatable prodigy.

Matt had a very similar losing fetish to the one that had quietly developed inside Billy over the years. A consequence of being such a dominant, hard-working fighter. And he fucking NEEDED the great champion to get his lights punched out by a 0-8 feminist. He NEEDED Billy’s first KO loss to be a humiliating, soul-shattering event. He needed that chin to fucking FAIL, for the first time ever. The chin Matt had never been able to get past, no matter how hard he tried. He needed Billy’s first loss to be Carly’s big win. 100%. It had to be Carly. After all these years, it would just be so… Delicious.

It could fuck up his whole career. Matt knew that. It could start him on a downward slide that he never recovered from. A humiliating losing streak, as he tried and failed to achieve his former glory time and time again, only to lose to all the people he had once been able to beat. Getting knocked out by Carly and her thick, powerful legs could destroy the greatest boxer the world may ever know before he had even truly begun. She could wipe him off the face of the earth. Seal the deal, and BREAK him.

And if that happened…? Well. Matt would feel bad for him, sure. Billy was his friend. But if one loss was all it took to send him down that road, did he really deserve to be on top? Matt had a few losses, and it didn’t ruin HIM. Billy deserved to finally have a little taste. Just a little knockout. Just a little ego-checking nap. And Matt wanted nothing more than for him to finally get it.

Carly felt very similarly. The adrenaline rush she’d felt as the tides of the fight turned were incredible. She was amazed by her own power. Amazed by how effective her new kickboxing skills had been, far beyond what she ever expected. But that ending just left her feeling unsatisfied.

Her text exchange with Billy had been an attempt to remedy that lack of closure. And it had been an incredible experience, one she herself couldn’t believe. It seemed at first he was all defensiveness and denial, but just a little later in the night… Unbeknownst to Carly, when she had no longer been exchanging messages with Billy himself, but rather Anna playing the part of her woozy older brother… “He” had given her everything she needed to hear. That deep, rewarding satisfaction.

A giggling, geeky little sister sat bouncing on the chest of her drooling, unconscious older brother, tapping away at his phone, humiliating him in front of Carly. Carly felt like she had really gotten inside Billy’s head. Like he was finally experiencing just a fraction of the humiliation she’d been going through for years. And that was great. Sure, that was great.

But there was still one final piece missing. Something she never would have thought to ask for until that incredible sparring experience she had. Something she never would have thought POSSIBLE, until she discovered exactly how much skill she had built up in the time spent away.

She needed to knock him out. She needed to use her new, thick, tree-trunk legs, and powerful, buff ass, to power a punch that stole Billy’s precious, virgin chin. To power a punch that did the unthinkable. A punch that put a man to sleep. And not just ANY man - Billy.

Carly NEEDED to finish the job. She needed to switch him off, to see the lights go out. She needed to make something right. She had to fix something that had been broken inside her many years ago.

“I GOT your ass!”

Twitching. Snoring. Slow hip-thrusting, grinding against air. Moaning. Reduced to a bimbo. Drooling. Embarrassed. Ashamed. All her training, thrown away. All her feminist bluster, replaced by docile, submissive mooing and an unconscious pussy-presentation to a superior man.

I got your ass.

We’ll fucking see about that, Billy. Because a little birdie told me you’ve been fucking slipping. Sloppy, sloppy idiot. You’re wide open.

Carly shook with excitement at the thought of making it happen. Something REAL. Being the first person to EVER knock out the man everyone said was unbeatable. The man everyone said was the next big thing. Said would never lose his belt to ANYONE. Except, here comes a woman… And she was going to do it. She was going to shock the world and do the impossible.

It couldn’t have been better that this absolute prodigy - this unbeatable legend with a sudden, unexplainable weak streak, ripe for exploitation - was BILLY. Fucking Billy. Carly was going to knock Billy out cold, after all these years. After eighteen months of honing her body, developing her weapons. Before anybody else had seen him so much as stumble, a woman was going to fucking SLUMP him.

THIS, was what Carly fucking needed. What Carly deserved.

She needed to make it real.