Foxy Boxing (BE, ML, Bimbo) By T.F. Wright

[deadite103]

Foxy Boxing By T.F. Wright

The newly completed local venue was alive with the rumble of an eager audience before the scheduled fighters even pulled themselves on stage. This particular MMA fight had been highly anticipated for months. The entire auditorium was packed to bursting, every open space was filled. To even be there was a privilege, but the front row seats were the most coveted. Sitting among the few lucky enough to have purchased one was a man that thought himself to be both of the fighters’ biggest fan. Such that he didn’t even know which one he was truly rooting for.
He watched with rapt attention as the women marched out to cheers and met each other on the stage. They already looked revved, ready to duel until the stage was soaked in blood and sweat and one was declared the winner.
In the left hand corner, standing at six foot tall and rippling with muscle, was Russian beauty Ava Contress. She wore her long blond hair in a ponytail and sported bright red boxers and a matching tank top. She had a stern brow line and narrow but masculinely beefed hips. It was said she could hit hard enough to take down an elephant. Her Russian accent was the only thing elegant about her, but she gritted out her words in such a fashion that it was more intimidating than reassuring. “I will annihilate you.”
In the opposing corner, bouncing from one leg to the next as she readied her gloves, was Olivia Fir. She wasn’t exactly an elephant’s worth of competition, but she was no small package either. She only stood at about five feet and five inches, but she was stocky, almost box-shaped, with a lot of weight in her calves to keep her grounded. She kept her hair in a buzz cut to clear her line of vision. The meaty muscles in her arms quivered when she slammed her fists together. She wore a blue t-shirt and saggy polyester shorts. Her voice was gruff as she called out, “You’re going down, Russian trash!”
The introductions got out of the way quickly and at the sound of the bell the women were on each other like animals. They bounced around each other like trained dancers and threw only hard, deliberate punches. It all looked very dangerous but very calculated. It had its own charm and the ladies’ biggest fan crunched some popcorn as he watched contentedly for a time.
A few blows landed hard enough to leave red impressions on meaty upper arms, jaws narrowly avoided smashings.
Ava ducked a blow from Olivia’s right hand and brought up her own to get the other woman in a headlock. Then she used her left fist to punch the brunette repeatedly in the face.
The third or forth blow–it was difficult to tell them apart due to speed–hit hard enough that blood spilled from a split lip. Olivia spat as she yanked herself out of the hold, but the damage had already been done and she sputtered the red liquid across the stage. That was when the observer in the crowd below knew it was time to change pace. He removed his hand from the popcorn and waved his fingers about. A little burst of energy shot from them unnoticed, everyone else had their eyes on the match.
The women didn’t even notice as the magic set in on them. Olivia’s lip healed closed first, then the real transformation began.
Ava took a swing outward and as her limb extended the girth of it pulled inward. The hard lines of her bicep seemed to ease instead of tense, like the punch was going in reverse or her arm was relaxing rather than tightening. This was mirrored in her other arm.
Olivia dodged the blow at the last instant by bouncing on her kangaroo-like legs. Except the powerful quads took the impact differently as the muscle rescinded.
The women didn’t realize it, but their physical strength started to disappear. Their carved muscle deflated, slowly, like balloons with the air let out. Arms thinned, legs softened as punches were thrown and evaded.
Ava’s thick ankles, bulky to the calves that supported her weight, began to grow thinner. They eased upward little by little, so that each step withdrew the unnatural rivets of her limbs. The same effect happened to the cuts of her ribs, the engorged curves of muscle sucked inward, eased in like she was finally letting out a long-held breath. This drew her top-heavy shape inward and made her appear instantly more womanly.
Olivia’s neck was thick as a tree trunk, rife with tendons and veins that bulged when she was distressed. But that girthy structure changed next. It started to slim and lengthen, went from stumpy to elegant as the edges dragged inward and the bevel of red meat eased into a soft pillowy dip.
As the women circled about each other in a stand-off, their powerful frames became devoid of the swell of bulging deltoids and ribbed tendons. Like ripples in water, their hard edges quivered and settled. That wasn’t all that seemed to change. It wasn’t just a matter of things being taken away. The next blow that landed knocked Ava on her plumpening ass.
The voluminous, voluptuous curve of flesh took shape and cushioned her fall. Her angular, manly v-cut inflated with flesh and softer fat below in place of hard, trained musculature. Feminine angles replaced the old ones. The ridged swell of back muscle also dwindled and smoothed into a soft dip that made the increasing of her rump more noticable. When she stood up, she seemed to have lost a few inches in height, she was still tall but the height better suited her thinning frame. She came running at Olivia with her lips curled in a snarl, but she was shrinking even as she lunged.
Meanwhile, Olivia dodged the attack and as she spun her flat, muscled chest began to swell. The A cups bloated at the center then they seemed to pool outward like frosting being freed from a piping bag. The sweetness flooded up, engorged her knockers in perfect orbed fashion. They stayed buoyant and perky even as they got heavier and heavier than they’d ever been. Her t-shirt stretch across the inflating globes and the fabric strained to contain the new load. Her chest swelled until voluptuous melons bounced under her shirt with each motion. Her nipples held the material in place or else it might have ridden upward and exposed her entirely.
Even her voice experienced change. Her growls seemed to ease into feminine whimpers and huffs of almost flirty frustration the longer the fight went on.
They struck each other in the jaws and the hits seemed to knock out the hard edges held there. When they bounced backward, inflated tits jiggling, their faces were soft and round and much more feminine than when they’d entered the ring. Crows feet from stress and the hard lines of focus had eased into buttery skin.
With the softening of muscle and stocky exterior, came the softening of blows. Punches, once hard enough to crack bone, landed without even a slapping sound. The firm, self-assured method with which they fought became listless, more like kittens pawing at each other. They barely dodged as their gloved fists landed like pillows in a slumber party battle.
Olivia’s shaved hair pushed out of her head and grew to her chin, so when she ducked barely rough blows her bob fluttered around her face. She didn’t notice that at all either, just tossed her hair about as if it had always been there.
Yet more muscles of their stomachs and limbs melted away. They wilted into sexy curvy arms and slender legs. Their hips and breasts swelled and flared like old bruises might, but the results were much more flattering.
Their blood lust vanished almost entirely. A weakened punch turned into a shove. Olivia hit the ground dramatically–more show than necessity–her new hair flared out below her and her C cups reached a D and spilled out sideways as she landed on her back. Instead of growling she giggled. “Oh no!” she exclaimed in a loud, aroused tone.
“I’m going to destroy you,” Ava all but purred in her sensual accent, as she climbed into the other woman’s lap and began to wriggle and writhe. She aimed down weak punches that seemed to tickle her opponent rather than hurt her.
The Russian babe’s thighs were still thick where she held Olivia down, but soon that thickness became softer, cushioned by fat and satiny flesh rather than muscle stretched taut over sturdy bone. Her lips, once thin and angry, curved up in a smile as they got thicker and more alluring. She landed another blow that gently knocked the other girl’s face to the side and made her gasp in sexy surprise.
Olivia thrashed erotically under the assault. She pushed against Ava’s chest, pawed it teasingly and thrashed in melodramatic fashion as her clothing began to change around her still-morphing form. The oversized polyester shorts she adorned tightened into little, cottony ones that hugged her sculpted, fleshy ass. Her t-shirt became a belly-top that once would have displayed hard abs, but now instead showcased a waifish midriff. She pushed on Ava’s shoulders until both girls were on their rumps, half-heartedly bear hugging each other, tits pressing together as Ava’s clothes started to change too.
Her tank top pulled up and up and cupped her melons until it became a barely-there bra, while her shorts morphed into panties. Her abs, still rigid, sunk into her skin until her middle too was smooth as freshly paved concrete. They both were silky soft and they acted that way too as they pushed and shoved like girls in the bedroom rather than girls in a fight.
They crawled all over each other, serious match turned Foxy Boxing in moments. The once ferocious Ava, huge and bulky, was now petite and large hipped. Long legs kicked out flirtatiously as she was wrestled down under her equally seductive opponent. Her ponytail came loose and radiant golden waves decorated the stage that had been mysteriously wiped clean of all but their quivering bodies.
Olivia, once a spunky, broad hard-hitter, was now a svelte, lithe roller with hair as soft as her massive breasts. She jiggled everywhere, no firmness left in her tits or hips as she thrashed in playful motions designed to tantalize rather than terrorize.
The onlooker down below that had shamelessly caused the entire ordeal smiled in amusement. The crowd around him cheered even louder, they hadn’t noticed a thing. Nothing was any different as far as they were concerned. They were just big fans of sexy women wrestling.
The announcer came over the intercom then to announce it was a tie and the ladies had to go into super overtime. On cue, the stage suddenly opened up to reveal a mud pit in the center.
Ava squealed in delight and pushed her opponent in before toppling after. The mud splashed around them and drenched their hair and covered them in a filthy layer of moisture that made their new shapes glisten. They started to push and shove and giggle and dunk one another in the filth. It slipped between the edges of their clinging attire and dripped between bubbled breasts and smeared all over.
Their newly morphed, dainty bodies smashed together sensually, breasts threatened to pop free of their clothes, and they wiggled in the mud, so thoroughly coated that they barely looked to be wearing anything at all. They started stroking each other, playfully dragging the mess through each other’s hair and down their new, pretty bodies.
The audience took it all in and cheered, dedicated as ever. The magic man just watched smugly, much more entertained. It no longer mattered who won this match. He could support both his favorite ladies equally. Because in this kind of fight everyone was a winner.

[funfun74]

I enjoyed this one. Thanks for sharing

[Junketh71]

I second that. Thanks!