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#Post#: 5738--------------------------------------------------
Match 03 - Emily Ratajkowski vs Madison Pettis
By: BadAssBunnies Date: April 21, 2025, 1:20 am
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Match 3 Build-Up
Emily Ratajkowski 32D vs.
Madison Pettis 34C
https://i.imgur.com/CHaTvEg.png
Emily Ratajkowski - Badass Barbies vs. Madison Pettis - The
Wannabees
Early Las Vegas Odds:
Emily Ratajkowski: -180 Favorite
Madison Pettis: +140 Underdog
The Heat Behind the Headlines By now, it�s clear�this isn�t just
about busts. It�s about pride. Power. Bragging rights. And for
Emily Ratajkowski and Madison Pettis, this fight has been
simmering ever since their last chaotic encounter left fans
demanding a rematch.
With the series tied 1-1�Ariel Winter crushing Cree Cicchino,
then Genevieve Hannelius leveling the score by breaking Madison
Beer�the pressure was dialed up for Match 3. Enter the Barbies�
queen of curves: Emily Ratajkowski.
When people talk about the best boobs in Hollywood, Emily�s name
always comes up�right alongside icons like Kate Upton, Salma
Hayek, Pamela Anderson, Sydney Sweeney, and Alexandra Daddario.
She�s not just a pretty face or a famous figure�Emily is a bust
legend. And when it comes to bare-chested combat, challengers
have come� and they�ve been crushed. Emily has ruled the ring
for nearly a decade.
But don�t count out Madison Pettis.
Despite holding one of the worst official records in UCC
history, Madison has carved out a reputation in specialty
bouts�where she�s gone 8-2 against some fierce competition. She
thrives in close-quarters combat, where firm flesh meets firm
flesh. And while she may be smaller than Emily, Madison�s tight,
toned chest and youthful resilience might just give her the edge
where it counts most.
This isn�t just a tiebreaker.
It�s a statement match�two top less titans stepping into the
ring, each determined to prove that when it comes to
bust-to-bust domination�
Only one can come out on top.
The build up to this match has gone viral on several occasions.
At a Wannabee afterparty livestream, Madison clapped back,
raising a champagne glass to the camera.
�Emily thinks she�s some lingerie model assassin. I�m not
intimidated by some runway rack. I�ve been in real fights, not
perfume commercials.�
A week later, Emily posted a no-caption photo: topl$ss, arms
crossed under her chest, nipples blurred�only the caption read:
�Built to break b!tchees.�
The line was drawn. Both stables fanned the flames�Jayden
Bartels fired shots online, Kylie Jenner called Madison �a
blown-up brat with no finish,� and the fans? They were foaming
for Match 3.
Fighter Breakdown Emily Ratajkowski � �The High-Fashion
Hitwoman�
Age: 33
Stable: Badass Barbies
Bust Size: 32C
Height: 5�7�
Strengths: Reach, poise under pressure, psychological warfare
Weaknesses: Doesn�t like close combat, can be too composed
Emily walks like she owns the room�and fights like it too. With
a catwalk-trained body and a dangerously calm demeanor, she
lulls opponents into underestimating her. But don�t let the
elegance fool you�she�s been working with the Barbies� top
trainers at The Dollhouse, focusing on upper body control, grip
strength, and smother techniques using nothing but pure, natural
power.
She�s known for humiliating finishes�smirking down at crushed
opponents like they were unworthy of her time. Her specialty?
The �Rata-Rack Wrap��a choke-and-smother combo that�s ended many
matches in tears.
Emily on Threads:
�Madison�s cute for sure. But this ring doesn�t care about cute.
It rewards breast dominance. And I excel at that.�
https://media1.tenor.com/m/DBhND9Ehy8gAAAAd/emily-ratajkowski-cleavage.gif
(Captioned under a video of Emily in the surf covering her
breasts with onee arm.)
Madison Pettis � �The Pouting Punisher�
Age: 26
Stable: Wannabees
Bust Size: 34C
Height: 5�5�
Strengths: Power, tenacity, grudge-fueled energy
Weaknesses: Can be emotional, burns hot and fast
Madison fights like she has something to prove�because she does.
With her reputation as an MMA fighter tarnished and her roster
spot on the Wannabes in jeopardy, Madison has nothing to lose
and dethroning an iconic set of breast like Emily's will go a
long way on hr comeback trail.
Her thick, toned frame gives her an edge in body-to-body combat.
She�s been hitting the resistance cage and working under
pressure with sparring partners Caylee Collins, Paige Spiranac,
Isla Fisher, and Kiki Passo finee tuning her breasts into
lethat weapons. Madison�s pain tolerance is through the roof�and
her revenge drive even higher.
Madison on TikTok:
�Emily�s about to find out that those perfect little model
titties of hers are good for one thing: getting steamrolled by
mine.�
https://i.imgur.com/bilhFCh.gif
(Captioned under a video Madison in a silver dress showing off
her cleavage)
Mind Games & Memes
In the week leading up to the fight, fans were treated to
nonstop chaos.
Emily posted a photo lounging in silk lingerie with the caption:
�How do you prepare to fight someone like Madison? Easy. You
don�t. You just pose for the victory photo in advance.�
Madison fired back with a clip of her punching a speed bag with
Emily�s face taped on it.
�Hope you got insurance for those nipples, sweetie. They�re
going to be sore when I�m done twisting them like bottle caps.�
Kylie reposted the clip with a snarky reply:
�Aww, someone�s mad she peaked in 2016.�
Jayden didn�t hold back either, tweeting:
�Can�t wait to watch Emily try to smother someone with her aging
floppy cups. That�s like getting hit with soft pillows.
Adorable.�</blockquote> Vegas Betting Breakdown
Updated Vegas Odds:
Emily Ratajkowski -180
Madison Pettis +140
Prop Bets:
[list]
[li]First tit-twist: Madison (-150)[/li]
[li]First breast smother: Emily (-120)[/li]
[li]Verbal submission: Madison over 6:00 (+110)[/li]
[li]Wardrobe malfunction: Yes (-130)
[/li]
[/list] The Final Buzz Before the Bell
This isn�t just a bounce-back fight for Madison�it�s personal.
And for Emily, this is about proving her brand of cool,
calculated dominance works even under fire.
They�re both C-cups. They�re both proud. But there�s only room
for one winner when these two top less titans collide in the
ring.
And when the dust settles�
Only one will walk out with her chest raised high�
While the other will be left gasping, stripped, and smothered
beneath it.
Round 1: Nipple Combat
The arena lights dimmed to a deep crimson as the announcement
boomed across the venue.
The crowd roared with feverish anticipation, knowing this would
be the most intimate and technical round of the night. The
objective was not brute force, but discipline, precision, and
nerve. Only the nipples were allowed as weapons. No grabbing. No
slapping. No body strikes. Just the raw duel of hardened tips
and iron will.
Emily Ratajkowski emerged first, gliding barefoot onto the soft,
mat-covered ring, her black sports bra now replaced by a
minimalist, taut crop top that barely covered her full 32Ds. The
chill in the arena had already done its job�her nipples jutted
outward, proud and sharp like arrowheads, frozen into gleaming
weapons by pre-fight ice treatments. She exuded confidence, her
breathing slow, her smirk dangerous. She knew what her body was
capable of.
Then came Madison Pettis. At 5�3�, she looked compact but
powerful, her 34C chest perfectly framed in a tight crimson top
cut low to expose as much upper curve as possible. Her nipples
were equally hardened, smaller than Emily�s but no less
deadly�dark, tight, and protruding like bullets. Madison walked
with fire in her eyes, arms loose, shoulders back, not
intimidated by Emily�s taller frame or the towering reputation
that came with her D-cups.
A single official entered the ring between them, instructed then
to take off their tops and toss them in their corners. She
raised a hand as they stepped forward each taking in long slow
breaths then signaled.
"Begin."
The bell echoed.
Both women approached with solemn precision, their bare feet
brushing the mat in perfect silence. No trash talk now. Only
focus. Their breasts rose and fell steadily as they closed the
gap, squaring off inches apart. Without warning, they leaned
in�nipples meeting nipples in the center of the ring.
The first contact was a test.
A press. Gentle.
Then firmer.
Then a sudden jab�Emily�s left nipple snapped forward with a
whip-like poke, catching Madison on the side of her areola.
Madison winced but responded instantly, shifting her chest to
rake her nipples across Emily�s, dragging them side to side like
serrated blades.
"Nnngh..." Emily�s soft moan betrayed the burn.
Madison grinned, leaning forward again. Her shorter height
worked to her advantage as she angled upward, jabbing her tips
under Emily�s and flicking them up with pinpoint stabs. Emily
bit her lip. Her own nipples, though longer, were more
exposed�and Madison was targeting them mercilessly.
But Emily didn�t get famous for being soft.
She countered with a forward drive, mashing her breasts
downward, trying to pin Madison�s nipples flat. Madison stumbled
back half a step, and Emily chased, her chest swinging into
position as she aimed for a pin.
Their nipples clashed like swords.
Emily�s longer, colder nipples dug in, driving toward Madison�s
chest wall, hunting for an inversion. Madison squealed softly,
her back arching as she tried to deflect with angled pushes. She
pivoted, turned her torso just enough, and struck with a
full-body twist�raking both hardened nipples across Emily�s in a
scissoring motion.
"Ahhh�f$ck!" Emily gasped, staggering slightly as the twin burn
lines ignited across her skin.
Madison closed in.
She executed a double rake followed by a quick poke-poke combo,
her smaller but denser breasts giving her balance and
maneuverability. She ducked low, angling her left nipple up and
under Emily�s right, then pushed.
Emily�s nipple bent up, higher and higher as she held her
breath.
Not inverted�but dangerously close.
The crowd gasped collectively, watching the high-stakes,
near-silent dance of pressure and pain.
Emily shook it off, let out a low growl, and surged.
She stepped in full force, chest first, smashing both her D-cups
into Madison�s Cs. The impact echoed with a wet thud. Madison
stumbled back, her nipples flattening under the momentum. Emily
seized the moment, shoving again, her longer nipples digging for
a pin.
The ref crouched closer, watching.
Madison was already buckling.
Emily�s tips pressed Madison�s nipples flat�1... 2... 3
seconds...
But Madison twisted her torso violently, breaking the pin at 4.
The crowd roared.
"You felt that right?" Emily hissed, voice low, sweat forming at
her temple.
Madison panted, her nipples already a dark red, glistening with
pressure sweat. �I felt how soft yours are getting.�
The taunt lit a fire.
They collided again, nipple to nipple, breast to breast, locking
into a grinding grapple. Their arms stayed behind their backs,
posture perfect�this was all about chest technique. Emily�s
taller frame gave her downward leverage. Madison�s firm, compact
base gave her push back strength.
The burn was unbearable.
Emily�s nipples trembled under constant abuse. Madison�s were
darker now, almost purple from repeated strikes. But both
fighters were still standing, neither willing to give in.
Then Emily dropped her center of gravity, tilted her chest
upward, and lunged�her nipples stabbed upward like spears.
Madison cried out.
Emily�s right nipple drove straight into the soft base of
Madison�s left, pressing hard enough to dimple it. Madison tried
to retreat, but Emily followed, pushed, pressed, leaned...
The ref leaned closer.
Madison�s left nipple flattened... then began to fold inward.
"Inversion approaching!" the ref shouted.
Madison screamed and twisted with all her might, breaking free.
Her nipple popped back out with a painful recoil, but it was
dangerously close.
�Lucky little b!tch,� Emily hissed.
Madison�s eyes narrowed.
And then she went savage.
A flurry of short, stabbing nipple strikes rained down on
Emily�s breasts. Madison spun on her toes, twisting and slamming
her nipples like daggers from every angle. Emily was rocked,
unable to block. Her taller height now made her exposed. Nipples
met nipples in rapid strikes�poke, rake, poke, stab.
Emily grunted in pain, now fighting off her back foot.
Madison cornered her.
And then�trap.
With one hard shove, Madison mashed her 34Cs directly into
Emily�s chest, pushing both their nipples deep. Emily�s back hit
the padded corner.
"PIN ATTEMPT!" the ref shouted.
Madison�s arms shot behind her, forcing every ounce of pressure
from her sternum down into Emily�s tender peaks.
1...
2...
Emily�s eyes widened. How could this be happening?!
3...
4...
She twisted�but Madison twisted with her, hips following her
every move, both sets of breasts shifting with deadly precision.
Then the sound nobody saw coming.
5!
"PIN CONFIRMED!" the ref called.
The bell rang.
Madison stepped back, chest heaving, nipples burning, but
victorious.
Emily clutched her chest, eyes wide in disbelief. Her proud
D-cups had been bested�not by size, but by strategy, technique,
and relentless pressure. Madison�s compact 34Cs had proven more
stable under duress, her lower center of gravity keeping her
grounded where Emily was forced to adjust.
The crowd erupted.
Winner of Round 1: Madison Pettis � via 5-second nipple pin.
Madison raised her arms high, her nipples red but upright, still
holding their proud shape.
Emily seethed quietly, her face taut with frustration, one hand
subtly massaging a still-aching nipples.
Madison leaned in as the ref escorted her toward her corner.
"One down," she whispered. �And I�m just getting started.�
Emily�s response was a venomous glare�and the knowledge that
Round 2 would require a comeback.
The battle was far from over.
But in the opening act of this war of pride, poise, and
precision�Madison Pettis had drawn first blood.
A dejected Emily slumped on her stool, breathing hard, eyes
vacant. She couldn�t believe what had just happened. Kylie
pressed an ice pack gently against her flushed, tender breasts,
wincing in sympathy. Beside her, Natalie leaned in close,
offering quiet encouragement.
�Don�t stress, Em. You�ve still got this,� she whispered. �You
had her. She just got lucky.�
Emily gave a slow, reluctant nod, still dazed. �Her nipples�
they were like needles. I swear I had her after that breast
drop. I don�t know many women who could�ve stood back up from
that.�
Kylie glanced around, clearly rattled. �We�re 0-3 in nipple
battles. Something�s off. They�re doing something. Until we
figure it out, we just have to fight through it.�
Just then, Strikeforce Featherweight and former Badass Barbie,
Cara Delevingne, stepped up on the apron, drawing Kylie�s
attention with a subtle wave.
�You know what�s going on, right?� Cara said, eyes sharp.
�Cheating. Like always,� Kylie snapped.
Cara shook her head. �Maybe not cheating� but something. When
Genevieve walked past me earlier, she reeked of peppermint.�
Kylie raised an eyebrow. �What does that have to do with
anything?�
�They�re rubbing Peppermint Oil on their breasts,� Cara
explained. �It dulls the pain. And it tightens the nipples�makes
them sharper, harder to beat in a tip-to-tip battle.�
Kylie�s eyes widened. �Those little f$cks!�
Emily blinked, stunned. �Wait� that�s why she smelled like
Altoids? I thought she just chewed like ten of them!�
Cara leaned in through the ropes, grabbed Emily by the
shoulders, and inhaled deeply, her nose grazing Emily�s chest.
�Yeah,� she said with a smirk. �And now you smell minty too.�
Emily�s cheeks flushed deep red as realization set in. She
jolted off the stool, eyes blazing.
�Oh, it�s on now.�
Round 2: Full Breast Striking
Emily Ratajkowski stood in her corner, her chest heaving and
she leaned form side to side�not from exhaustion, just itching
to get back at Madison. She wasn�t just beaten. She was
humiliated. By Madison Pettis of all people. A woman mocked
throughout the UCC as a paper tiger, all attitude and no bite.
Losing to her wasn�t just a loss�it was a collapse. And for
someone whose bust had been spoken of in the same breath as
Upton, Daddario, and Hayek� it was the kind of fall that could
stain a legacy forever..
If she didn�t turn this around, Emily wasn�t just going to lose
a match.
She was going to lose everything.
Across the ring, Madison Pettis stood tall, chin up, her bare
chest rising and falling with confidence. Just moments ago, she
had done the unthinkable�she didn�t just beat Emily. She exposed
her. Bent her back. Snapped her legendary nipples like twigs
until Emily�s proud, iconic breasts were pinned helplessly
beneath Madison�s youthful, bullet-firm chest.
It wasn�t luck. It was domination.
And Madison knew it�and unfortunately for Emily, she knew it
too.
Every time their eyes met across the ring, Madison�s smirk only
deepened, a silent reminder of whose chest had ruled in Round 1.
Emily could still feel it�Madison�s nipples grinding into hers,
bending her backward, stripping away every ounce of confidence
with each humiliating second.
The crowd may have been roaring, but inside Emily�s head, there
was only one voice. One brutal truth.
She was losing.
And Madison? She was just getting started.
The arena shifted with a sudden pulse�red and white lights
strobing over a crowd now starved for more. When the bell for
Round 2 rang, it didn�t sound like a start�it sounded like a
summons. Gone was the air of technicality or precision. This was
no longer a chess match of positioning or technique.
This was war.
Bare-chested. Barefoot. No pads. No mercy. Nothing between them
now but skin, sweat, and fury.
Emily�s pride was on the line. Madison�s rise had already begun.
And as they stalked forward, breasts bouncing with every step,
eyes locked, fists curled at their sides�it was clear:
Only one pair was leaving this ring unbroken.
Both women stood in the center of the mat, stripped to the
waist, their glistening, bare torsos reflecting the arena
lights. Emily�s flawless 32Ds, already red and sore from the
brutal nipple combat of Round 1, looked less perky than usual.
The model�s posture was tense, her eyes darkened with
frustration and wounded pride. For once, Emily Ratajkowski
wasn�t the picture of effortless dominance. She was on the back
foot�and she knew it.
Madison Pettis, on the other hand, looked like a woman reborn.
Her compact 34Cs were firm, high, and glistening with a sheen of
sweat and the sweet smell of peppermint. She was breathing hard,
but she wore a wolfish grin as she circled Emily with light,
confident steps, hips swaying with predatory intent.
�You�re looking a little soft up top, Em,� Madison taunted,
shaking her chest with deliberate rhythm.
�Those D-cups deflated faster than a beach ball in a cactus
patch.�
Emily scowled, drawing a deep breath that caused her tender
chest to rise and swell. �Keep talking, Pettis. You can cheat
and all the peppermint oil in the world won�t stop what�s
coming.�
Madison grinned. �We're not cheating, Sweetie, We're
dominating.�
Madison laughed and launched the first strike�a wide
side-to-side swing, her left breast crashing hard into Emily�s
right. The thwack echoed like a gunshot, and Emily staggered
sideways, stunned.
Madison wasted no time. She surged forward, delivering a
crushing breast smash, slamming both 34Cs into Emily�s battered
32Ds. Emily stumbled but stayed upright almost going to the mat,
gritting her teeth through the impact.
�C�mon, runway queen! Where�s that world-famous balance?�
Madison teased, backing off to deliver a rapid breast jab that
jolted Emily�s left tit backward.
Emily groaned, chest heaving. �You really think you�re winning
this? You�re just waking the beast.�
�Beast?� Madison grinned. �You look more like a wounded fawn
caught in the headlights.�
Emily suddenly stepped forward and spun, using her model�s pivot
grace to whip her torso around�her breasts swung like twin
wrecking balls, catching Madison with a double side-to-side
smash. The impact made Madison grunt, her grin faltering.
�I warned you,� Emily hissed. �I�ve got more in me than looks.�
She followed up with an uppercut�a brutal swing from beneath
that slammed her chest into Madison�s with surprising force,
lifting Madison slightly off balance and making her stumble
back.
�Still feel like the favorite now?� Emily spat, closing in.
Madison narrowed her eyes. �You�re gonna regret that.�
The two collided again in the center, torsos clashing with raw
flesh and sweat. Their chests slapped together with relentless
rhythm�smashes, jabs, and swings traded like punches. Neither
woman was backing down.
Emily slammed forward with another breast smash, both of her
D-cups flattening into Madison�s C-cups against her sternum.
Madison winced but twisted her shoulders to whip her breasts
into Emily�s side, landing a clean side-swing that made Emily
grunt.
Their bodies stayed close�chests pressed, then whipped apart,
only to slam back together. The crowd was roaring, deafening in
their bloodthirsty enthusiasm.
Madison broke the rhythm with a hard upward arc�a sharp breast
uppercut that nailed Emily beneath her chest. The pain shot
through Emily�s torso, making her falter for a second.
�You look like you�re ready to cry, Em,� Madison growled, chest
heaving. �I thought you were tougher than this.�
Emily didn�t answer. Instead, she lunged with a powerful breast
drop�lifting both t!ts high and letting them crash down on
Madison�s chest like twin hammers. The blow almost drove Madison
to a knee�but only for a second. Her knee came inches from
touching but she popped back up before the ref could count it as
a knockdown.
�NO KNOCKDOWN! NO KNOCKDOWN!� the referee called. �Fight on!�
The audience gasped. Madison shook her head to clear it,
breathing hard, her breasts clearly reddened now.
Emily smirked. �Almost had you. Almost.�
�Not even close, honey� Madison grunted. �I just wanted to feel
what your **** taste like from below.�
The next few moments turned chaotic�sweaty, red-chested
collisions as the two battered each other in a relentless
breast-to-breast slugfest. The echo of every impact reverberated
through the arena.
Emily landed a straight poke. Madison responded with a breast
swing crushing Emily's left breast into hr right. Emily
countered with a forward smash. Madison leapt into a double
breast drop that forced Emily backward, almost into the ropes.
�Give it up,� Madison panted. �You�re already toast.�
Emily was hurting, chest flushed deep red and aching, but her
eyes were focused. She suddenly lunged forward and locked chests
with Madison, breast-to-breast, muscle to muscle. The crowd held
its breath as they both leaned in, hands behind their backs,
their glutes surging their upper bodies into each other with
brute force.
Madison leaned in harder forcing Madison back but the curly
haired brunette planted hr back foot and held her ground. �This
is where I end your over-rated, over-hyped career.�
Emily hissed through clenched teeth. �You talk too damn much.�
Then she twisted.
With a sudden surge of energy, Emily executed a move no one had
seen before�later dubbed the Spiral Drop. She spun into Madison
with a full-body pivot, her breasts whipping in a diagonal
motion before launching into a crushing breast drop that came at
a spiraled angle�an awkward, brutal collision that slammed
directly into Madison�s upper chest and shoulders, driving her
down.
Madison gasped, stumbling backward in shock. She tried to
recover�but her knees buckled and she stumbled left, then right,
then left again then finally she collapsed backward onto the
mat, her chest heaving, lips parted in disbelief.
�KNOCKDOWN! LEGAL KNOCKDOWN!� the referee shouted. �Emily wins
Round 2!�
The crowd exploded.
Emily dropped to her knees, arms raised, breathing hard. Her
chest was bruised, red, and throbbing�but she had pulled off a
stunning comeback.
Madison lay on the mat, groaning, one arm draped over her chest.
�You�b!tch,� she gasped. �You� spun?�
Emily crawled over, leaned down, and whispered with a smirk,
�Didn�t see that one coming, did you?�
The ref stepped between them and sent Emily back to her corner
as the Wannabees rushed to check on Madison. The arena buzzed
with stunned chatter.
After an intense, evenly matched round that tested every limit
of pride, pain tolerance, and strategy, it was Emily�sore,
bruised, but brilliant�who stole the victory at the last second.
And the fans? They were already screaming for Round 3.
Round 3:
Both women understood exactly what was on the line. Victory here
meant momentum, control, and forcing the opposing team into a
desperate scramble�needing to win 3 of the final 4 fights walk
away with the trophy.
The corners buzzed with urgency. Ice packs pressed firmly
against sore breasts, whispered strategies passed between
trainers, adrenaline and tension thick in the air.
Neither woman waited for the bell. Emily was up first, eager to
build on her earlier knockdown and reclaim her shattered pride.
But Madison wasn�t far behind�her eyes lit with renewed fire,
fueled by a fierce, no-nonsense pep talk from Jayden Bartels
that seemed to flip a switch inside her.
The next round wasn�t just another chapter�it was a war for
control of the entire battlefield.
The crowd was electric, rising to their feet as the referee
raised her hand and shouted,
"FINAL ROUND�BEGIN!"
Emily Ratajkowski and Madison Pettis stood just a foot apart,
each of them drenched in sweat, faces flushed, bodies
trembling�but not from fear. From adrenaline. From pride. From
rage. Their bruised, red chests heaved with every breath. The
arena had never seen two fighters so evenly matched, and yet so
intent on destroying each other.
They lunged forward.
The referee motioned both fighters to the middle of the ring.
�OK, winner of the final round wins the match. Lock up and the
first woman to let go, tap out, or black out is the loser. I'll
be watching for illegal moves so keep it clean.
They edged closer, chests rising and falling with each breath,
their eyes locked in steely defiance. Their breasts jostled and
bumped, each woman trying to line up the perfect angle�like two
arm wrestlers adjusting their grip before the decisive pull.
Sweat already gleamed on their skin as they maneuvered for
dominance, each subtle shift charged with intensity.
Once aligned, the referee stepped in, motioning for them to
intertwine their arms. Fingers laced behind each other�s backs,
the tension snapped taut.
The ref raised her hand high, then dropped it with a shout.
�FIGHT!�
In an instant, their bodies slammed together. Arms constricted
like steel cables, crushing torsos into one another. Their
bearhugs locked tight, neither woman giving an inch. Foreheads
mashed together, teeth bared, they snarled and spat insults
through clenched jaws.
�Thought you could take me, ****?� Emily growled, wrenching
Madison in tighter. Her powerful D-cups flattened mercilessly
into Madison�s chest, muscle and pride fueling every grind.
Madison hissed through her teeth, hips jerking sharply to angle
her ribs and crash her breasts back into Emily�s with savage
force. �I am taking you,� she snapped, voice low and venomous.
�Feel that, Em? That�s the sound of your pride crumbling between
my ****.�
Their breasts ground together, the skin already tender from
previous rounds. Now, every motion sent jabs of lightning pain
through their nerves. But neither backed down.
"You�re breaking," Emily said with a vicious smile. "I can feel
it."
Madison bared her teeth. "What you�ve feeling is my ****
dominating yours. Admit it, you've been feeling me dominate you
since round one. Let�s finish it."
She dipped her hips, hoisting Emily off the floor for a moment,
adding pressure to the hug. Emily screamed out�but it wasn�t
surrender. She retaliated, dropping back down, digging her chin
into Madison�s shoulder as her arms cinched even tighter.
"You�re shaking, Maddie," Emily whispered venomously. "I�m going
to crush the breath out of you."
"Then do it," Madison spat. "Let�s see who folds first."
The crowd�s roar dimmed under the sound of two women growling,
straining, sweating, and crushing each other�s chests in the
ultimate test of power. It wasn�t just physical�it was personal.
Every ounce of pain inflicted was a message.
Their legs tangled, trying to trip the other, each stomp forward
or slide sideways driving their tender breasts to mash harder
and deeper. Emily tried shifting her grip to Madison�s lower
back to control her center of gravity.
Madison caught it instantly.
"Trying something slick?" she sneered. "Not gonna save you."
She yanked upward, pushing Emily�s chest higher against her own.
Their nipples scraped and flattened, sending bolts of pain
through them both. Emily gasped.
"That all you got?" Madison hissed. "Cheap little tricks? You�re
desperate, b!tch."
Emily barked a laugh, even as her ribs trembled. "You�re calling
me desperate? You�re holding on for dear life. You�re one inch
from breaking."
Madison loosened her grip pulling back then slammed her chest in
again. "I�m one inch from beating you."
They twisted, grunted, ground, sweat flying off their locked
bodies. The crowd was hypnotized�this wasn�t a contest anymore.
It was a war.
Emily shifted her legs, trying to pivot Madison into an
off-balance position. Madison stumbled but regained her balance.
"Nice try," she snapped. "You're trembling, Em. Are those saggy
utters about to pop! You're weak, Em. Weak."
"Power�s nothing when you don�t know how to use it," Emily shot
back. "Keep trying to brute force this. You�ll crack first."
Suddenly, Madison surged forward, using all her weight to force
Emily back. Emily�s heels slid, but she planted them again.
"I can feel your ribs caving," Madison purred. "One more
squeeze�"
"Then squeeze!" Emily roared. "Let�s see what breaks first�your
arms or your ego."
With a defiant scream, Emily tightened her grip beyond anything
she had before. Madison�s breath hitched�Emily felt it. A tiny
moment of doubt. Of pain.
"There it is," Emily gasped. "That gasp. That�s the sound of you
losing."
"I�m not�" Madison began, but Emily didn�t let her finish.
She twisted sharply, driving her right breast directly into
Madison�s sternum, grinding down with every ounce of fury and
strength.
Madison cried out.
"You were saying?" Emily hissed.
Madison�s legs buckled slightly, but she snarled and fought
back, leaning forward, smashing both breasts into Emily�s in a
jarring counterattack that drove the air from her lungs.
"You hit like a dancer," Madison panted. "All rhythm, no pain."
"Then how come you�re the one groaning?" Emily barked.
Another squeeze. Another twist. More pain. They were both
gasping now, muscles on fire, arms quaking. Their bodies slicked
in sweat. Neither would let go.
"Look at you," Madison muttered through gritted teeth. "Your
legs are jelly. You�re dying in my arms."
"You wish," Emily replied, drawing spit between her teeth as she
bit back a scream. "You�re trembling. You . . you . . you�ve
never been pushed this hard."
Madison suddenly loosened her grip giving her aching biceps some
reprieve. Then with her back to the ref she sliced her nails
down Emily's back.
Kylie and Natalie screamed foul as Emily yelped.
Madison re-wrapped her arms and tightened the bearhug again.
Emily gasped. "Cheap shot."
"Smart shot," Madison corrected. "The kind that winners make."
"You�re not winning this," Emily snarled, and in one swift move,
hooked Madison�s leg and twisted her body. They stumbled, nearly
going down�Madison cried out as her foot slid and her weight
shifted.
Emily pounced, tightening the bearhug but with a higher grip
this time. Her breasts forced Madison�s upward into a brutal
crush. Madison arched her back, her scream muffled against
Emily�s shoulder.
"GIVE UP!" Emily roared.
"NO! NEVER!" Madison howled back.
They froze like statues, every muscle locked. Their chests
flattened and bulged against each other in grotesque symmetry.
Faces twisted with pain and rage. Their arms shook. Legs
buckled. Breasts mushroomed out.
Then�
Madison�s grip faltered.
It was slight. Barely noticeable. But the veteran Emily felt it
instantly. Like blood in the water.
�Oh my, what�s that?� Emily growled into Madison�s ear, her
voice low and venomous. �Giving out on me are ya?�
With a savage twist of her hips, Emily surged forward, her arms
constricting like steel cables. Their sweaty, bruised chests
smashed together again, Madison�s breasts folding under the
relentless pressure.
�Unhh�NO!� Madison screamed, trying to dig in, her nails raking
weakly across Emily�s back. But her strength was bleeding out
fast.
�You�re finished, Pettis,� Emily sneered, her voice low and
vicious against Madison�s ear. �Say it. SAY IT, you overrated
little tease.�
�I�I�M�� Madison choked out, but the words broke apart as
Emily�s crushing embrace drove the air from her lungs. Her head
slumped forward onto Emily�s slick, dominant shoulder, her
strength bleeding away like spilled blood. Her limbs twitched
uselessly�every nerve screaming, every breath a shallow gasp of
desperation.
Emily�s bearhug was relentless, merciless. Her arms coiled like
iron bands around Madison�s back, ribs grinding together under
pressure that felt inhuman. But worse than that was the
humiliation�her breasts, swollen and brutalized, were being
flattened, molded, owned by Emily�s rock-hard rack. There was no
fight left in them. No pride. Only pain.
�You�re nothing,� Emily hissed, lips curling in cruel delight.
She rolled her shoulders forward with slow, deliberate
precision, grinding deeper into Madison�s chest. Each cruel
rotation of her hips twisted the bearhug tighter, and Madison�s
body buckled.
The pain was exquisite. Her ribs felt like they were caving in.
Her breasts�numb, swollen, dominated�quivered under the assault.
Madison�s eyes fluttered. Her mouth fell open in a silent
whimper. Her head lolled to the left, her face ghost-pale, and
her body sagged in Emily�s arms like a ragdoll.
�Look at you,� Emily whispered. �Beaten. Broken. Mine.�
Madison teetered on the bring of consciousness.
�DON�T YOU DARE FAINT ON ME!� Emily barked, jerking Madison
upright. �You say it! Or I�ll leave your t!ts in the dirt!
PERMANENTLY!�
�NEVER!� Madison spat through clenched teeth, her body jerking
as she tried to resist. �You ****�no!�
Emily's voice was a roar now. �THEN SUFFER B!TCH!�
She leaned back, arched her spine, and squeezed with everything
she had left. Their bodies convulsed in the hold�skin slippery,
breasts crushed tighter than ever before. Madison screamed�a
deep, broken sound of total anguish�as the pain lit up her chest
like wildfire.
"NO! OH�OH GOD NO!" she sobbed, her voice raw. �MY CHEST�!�
�SAY IT OR I BREAK YOU!� Emily�s face twisted with fury as she
jerked Madison upward again. The pressure peaked�then�
Pop.
A soft, sickening sound. Then another.
Almost silent�but they both felt it. A final collapse. The once
firm flesh reaching their limits then giving way.
Madison�s breasts, one after the other, deflated beneath
Emily�s.
��I� I�� Madison whimpered. Her knees buckled. Her body slumped
in Emily�s arms.
Emily held her there, trembling from effort but still standing,
towering. The crowd held its breath.
Then�silence.
Agonizing, electric silence.
Until finally� a whisper. Barely audible. Frayed, trembling,
broken:
��I submit.�
The referee dove in instantly.
Both women collapsed at once, folding to their knees, arms still
loosely entangled, bodies swaying together in exhausted ruin.
Their foreheads smacked�sweat-slick, trembling�sharing one last
breathless moment of hatred and surrender.
Emily couldn�t even lift her arms in triumph. Her body screamed
with pain, her breasts throbbed, her ribs ache. D, her biceps
completely drained. But the savage grin that **** through her
lips said it all.
She�d won.
Madison dropped backward, collapsing into a heap, her flattened
breasts spilling pathetically to the sides�deflated, bruised,
broken. Her eyes fluttered closed, her body unmoving. Shattered.
Defeated.
The arena erupted.
"EM-I-LY! EM-I-LY!"
The chant shook the walls as Emily stayed on her knees, back
bowed, arms hanging limp at her sides. Every breath hurt. Every
inch of her ached.
But through the pain, through the bruises and torn pride, a
single triumphant smile crept across her face.
She�d crushed Madison Pettis�and everyone in the world knew it,
especially Madison and the Wannabees.
Winner: Emily Ratajkowski � Verbal Submission
Post-Fight:
The bell had sounded, the match officially over. Madison had
whispered the words no fighter ever wants to utter�words that
choke in the throat, heavy with defeat: �I submit.�
But Emily wasn�t done. Not even close.
What Ariel Winter had started, Genevieve Hannelius had taken to
the next level. Now, all eyes were on Emily to decide where this
post-fight humiliation would go next.
She stood over her broken opponent, chest heaving, pulse
pounding. The moment teetered on a knife�s edge. Emily could
keep things relatively civil�with a classic stripping and a
breast smother that left no doubts about dominance. Or� she
could take it darker, nastier, and utterly unforgivable.
The choice was hers.
And everyone knew�Emily never backed down from a chance to leave
a mark.
There was a storm still raging inside her, a hunger that hadn�t
been fed. The victory was hers, but the humiliation? That was
just beginning.
Still on her knees, her chest heaving, her face bruised but
glowing with vindication, Emily glanced sideways at the referee.
"Time," she panted, licking her parted lips. "How long do I
get?"
"Five minutes," the ref said with a nod, stepping back as the
crowd rose to their feet, understanding what was about to
unfold.
The arena shifted. The fight was over�but the spectacle was just
beginning.
Emily�s grin curled wider as she closed the remaining space,
leaning in with measured control. Her forehead grazed Madison�s
in a slow, deliberate gesture�intimate, invasive, unmistakably
dominant. Then, with a quick flick of her head, Emily whipped
her damp, dark hair across Madison�s face.
It wasn�t just a taunt. It was a message.
The kind only women truly understand.
�You�re mine now,� Emily whispered with venom-laced softness,
her voice both maternal and mocking. �And everyone�s going to
watch.�
She stood�slow, commanding�while Madison stayed on her knees,
swaying slightly, barely able to keep herself upright.
Emily ran a hand through her tangled hair and circled Madison,
like a predator eyeing her wounded prey. She reached down,
hooked her fingers into Madison�s waistband, and yanked her
bottoms up with one swift motion. The crowd roared as Madison
let out a gasp, instinctively reaching down to release the
building pressure�only for Emily to grab a handful of her curls
and yank her back upright by her hair.
The cameras zoomed in. Fans in the front row snapped pictures as
Emily stood behind Madison, holding her by the hair with one
hand, the waistband of her own panties with the other�giving her
a humiliating wedgie as she dragged the disoriented brunette in
a humiliating circle for the arena.
The crowd chanted:
�EM-I-LY! EM-I-LY!�
�No no, sweetheart,� Emily purred, walking Madison forward by
her scalp like a prize lamb. �You�re gonna show everyone how it
feels to lose to the better woman.�
With one firm tug Madison's panties ripped apart. Emily held the
panties up high in her free hand like a trophy, then jammed them
into Madison�s mouth with the other.
�Chew on your shame,� she hissed.
Some cheered. Some looked away. A few covered their mouths in
stunned disbelief.
Emily stopped at the center of the ring and shoved Madison to
her knees again. She sat on the edge of her own heel, raising
her palm slowly� then SLAPPED Madison hard across the face.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
Madison�s head whipped side to side with each strike, her
muffled cries behind the panties barely audible.
�You thought you had a better rack than me?� Emily barked. �You
thought those pathetic puppies were gonna win?�
She yanked Madison�s face up by the chin, nose-to-nose now.
�Go on. Say it.�
Madison whimpered.
Emily reached down and slapped both of Madison�s sore, flattened
breasts, causing Madison to cry out through the gag.
�SAY. IT.�
Finally, a garbled, trembling moan behind the cloth:
�Y-your rack� i-it�s better��
Emily leaned in, eyes gleaming.
�Say it like a humiliated loser.�
�I�m� I�m a h-humiliated loser�� Madison choked.
The crowd exploded. Half were on their feet. The other half were
frozen, jaws dropped, unable to believe what they were
witnessing.
Emily wasn�t done.
She bent down, wrapped her arms around Madison�s head, and
pulled her face straight into her sweaty, victorious cleavage.
The kneeling breast smother. A move Emily had used too many time
to count. She had perfected it to a point where no woman had yet
to survive. The ultimate seal. The goddess press.
Madison�s arms flailed weakly. Her legs kicked against the mat.
Emily�s back arched as she leaned into it, pressing harder,
burying the woman beneath her into warm, sweaty, suffocating
defeat.
�Let them see what beat you,� Emily hissed down at her captive,
pressing her breasts even deeper.
�You talked about my rack like it was just for show? You�re
going to pass out inside it.�
The crowd counted in thunderous unison, each second ringing out
like a drumbeat of doom.
�ONE! TWO! THREE!�
Madison�s arms had stopped thrashing. Her legs, once kicking in
desperation, now hung limp. Emily loosened her hold just enough
for the curly haired brunette to gasp�a sharp, pitiful inhale
like a drowning swimmer breaching the surface for a moment of
air.
But it wasn�t mercy.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Emily flipped Madison onto her
back and slid forward, planting herself firmly on her chest. Her
long legs spread wide into a powerful, dominating straddle, her
breasts looming above Madison�s stunned face like an impending
eclipse.
Emily leaned down, her lips brushing Madison�s ear.
�You don�t get to breathe until I say so.�
She lowered her chest with calculated cruelty, smothering
Madison beneath the weight and heat of her infamous curves. A
few seconds passed. Madison squirmed. Emily pulled back�just
enough to let the girl wheeze in a lungful of air�then plunged
down again, harder this time, her sweaty breasts sealing over
Madison�s nose and mouth like velvet shackles.
The crowd was on fire, watching the twisted rhythm play out:
smother, release, smother again. Madison�s hands pawed weakly at
Emily�s sides, but the strength was gone. Her resistance was
little more than a reflex now.
Emily giggled darkly, taking her time, playing with her prey.
�You wanted a third round, Maddie. So breathe it in� this is
what defeat smells like.�
Again and again, she let her up for a sliver of air only to bury
her back down. Until, finally, the game grew tiresome. Emily�s
expression flattened�no more teasing.
She bore down with everything she had, grinding her chest into
Madison�s face until the the Wannabee stopped moving entirely.
Arms spread, eyes fluttering, Madison slipped into
unconsciousness beneath the weight of Emily�s victory.
Only then did Emily rise, chest heaving in satisfaction,
standing tall over her fallen rival like a queen reclaiming her
throne.
Madison was out.
Copletely naked and fully KO�d beneath the victorious weight of
Emily�s world class breasts.
Emily rose slowly, glistening with sweat, victorious in every
sense. The crowd went nuclear.
The ref lifted her hand in victory as she placed Madison�s
panties in the air like a sacred trophies. Her foot came down on
Madison�s chest�one final pose.
Winner: Emily Ratajkowski. By Submission. And KO.
The fans would be talking about this moment for years.
The rack that ruled.
The woman who conquered.
The humiliated loser lying at her feet.
Emily had reigned supreme
https://gifdb.com/images/high/emily-ratajkowski-slowly-dancing-qp3zt3l3au2bt3zj…
Badass Barbies � Wicked Queens 2 - The Wannabees 1
Written by the Badass Barbies.
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