Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: Midwych
Subject: KIDFIGHTCLUB 5
Link: Copyright 2009 / Midwych. All rights Reserved / http://www.asstr.org/~Polaris/
Story Codes: NC, Rape, Young Ones, Sadism, Abuse, Scat, WS
Kidfight Club 5
Ursa staggered at the weight of the blow from the other girl’s little fist, and the blood that was gushing from Ursa’s cute nose was staining the once pristine front of her white tee-shirt bright red. She looked tearful and no doubt there was snot among the blood that dripped down her.
Because it was a sparring bout and not a fully fledged kidfight, the six year old was allowed to keep her top on, though she was wearing diapers. If she had to fight in them she may as get used to wearing them now, Helen had said, as it was important she learned to be mobile with something bulky round her slender young hips. She was struggling with it though, looking far less accomplished with all that padding on her.
For some reason Ursa’s opponent, little five year old Sian, was completely untroubled by her diaper. Both girls had been encouraged to pee in their diapers before they fought so the weight dragged at them, but non one really understood why it was less trouble for the younger girl. There was no doubt the presence of a diaper was somehow intimidating Ursa.
The older girl had barely connected with a punch and though Sian was extremely good on her toes and showed remarkable balance, Ursa shouldn’t have been so obviously on the losing end.
Helen glanced at Adele, who as usual was masturbating as she watched her daughter fight, but there was a worried look on the mother’s face. She would, Helen understood, be going through the crisis that all moms faced at this stage: she wanted to see her daughter fight, was prepared to see blood (and indeed find her daughter being beaten as erotic) but it was the realization that maybe her child wasn’t good enough that was making her anxious. Helen had told Adele that this would happen, but Adele thought she would be immune to it.
Now it looked as if she wasn’t.
“I can’t cum,” said Adele, throwing a worried look at Helen. She had for once stopped rubbing her hard clit and was standing straight, the damp fingers of her right hand by her side.
“Don’t worry,” said Helen with a smile. “It happens.”
Adele looked back at her child, trying to dodge another confident punch from Sian. It glanced off the side of the older girl’s head and while it didn’t do much damage, it was another humiliation for Ursa. “Maybe she’s no good,” said the mother, her face creased with anxiety.
“She is,” said Helen, but she stopped the bout. “That was very good, Sian. Just try to remember about not leaving yourself open when you launch that right punch, see… your left hand goes down too much,” demonstrated the woman to the five-year old. “But you are doing great, honey.”
“‘Kay, coach,” said Sian with a smile. She liked calling Helen that.
Helen turned to the sobbing Ursa, who knew she hadn’t done great. The blood hadn’t stopped dripping from her nose and she looked a mess. She even had a cut over her eye that looked raw.
It was, Helen knew, time for some tough love. The girl was good; by rights she should be pummeling the younger girl more than she was. There were times when, diaper-less, she had proved to be far superior in technique to Sian. In the previous, non-diapered bout, she had hit the smaller girl so hard that everyone thought Sian had been knocked out cold. Sian’s pregnant mom, tied as she usually was to a chair to watch the sparring, had been desperately moaning into her gag and struggling with the ropes. Either she wanted someone to bring her off or release her, but all attention had been on making sure Sian was reasonably okay. She was, and the gagged Yvonne looked mightily relieved. Just to help her get back to feeling good when she saw her child was okay and not unconscious, Adele had gone over and fingered the seated woman to a huge orgasm.
But things were different now. Yvonne sat looking pleased behind her gag and even Theresa – who didn’t in a sense have a dog (or more accurately a bitch) in this fight – was beaming.
Helen was addressing the bloodied and unhappy Ursa. “Now, I’m not pleased here. so it’s time to step up, honey. You are going to learn to fight in a diaper, so it’s dance time. First off, this means you will first learn to duck and weave to avoid the hits. I’m going to tie your hands in back and let you wear the rubber hood. It will hurt when I inflate it but it will help protect your nose, understand?” The tearful Ursa nodded and Helen continued. “So let’s get going. You will learn, hon, so hands behind you and turn round so I can tie them tight.”
Ursa glanced over at her mother, maybe hoping for some way out, but Adele shook her head. No way out. The mother understood how important this was and had got the hood ready in her hands, ready to pass over to Helen. “I’m sorry, mom,” sniffed the upset girl.
“I’m not,” said Adele to her daughter. “You want to be good at this, sweetheart, and this is the best way to learn. We talked about this: and we said that no matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts right now, it’s way better than eating shit, right?”
The child nodded and tried to smile. Her mommy had told her about how bad kidfighters were made to eat shit and drink piss, and she didn’t want that.
“You make her eat shit?” Adele’s mother Arlene was astonished.
“No,” said Adele, coloring up a little. “I didn’t say that. I said that bad kidfighters had to eat it.”
“And is that true? Ursa’s pretty convinced that’s what ahead for her.”
“No!” Adele was flustered. “I only said that so Ursa would try harder, get her to make sure she fought well.” She felt annoyed her child had gone to her grandmother and told her that. It was supposed to be a secret and now she was struggling under the glare of her own mother.
“Maybe it’s better for her,” said the older woman after a moment or two. They were sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and no one else was there. Ursa, now recovered from her bloody nose and cuts was at school and Helen had gone ‘home’ fora few days to check her husband was still there, though increasingly she didn’t seem to care about him or his hobbies, providing he still sent money.
“What?”
“Maybe she isn’t really cut out to be a fighter after all. So maybe she needs to eat shit.”
“But… you hate all this kidfight stuff.” Ursa stared at her mother. “We agreed: you have Kevin in bed and you stay away from what I want for Ursa.”
“First of all I never said I hated it,” said Arlene. “I watched that kidfight video, so I know what happens. What I said is I never wanted to see my granddaughter hurt like that.” She shrugged. “Other kids I’m not bothered about.”
“But, it doesn’t turn you on,” said Adele. She was feeling confused.
“No, on it’s own it doesn’t. My turn on these days is a man with a stiff cock, especially when I am ready for it in me. I admit however the fighting is somewhat arousing; like me watching you and Helen 69ing. I wouldn’t do it myself but it helps me get horny. Your husband appreciates that,” the older woman smiled a little.
“And so you’re saying that…” Adele gulped. “You’d rather Ursa eat shit?”
Arlene smiled a little more. “I guess I am.”
Adele couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “I still don’t understand…” She shook her head.
“Let me explain,” said Arlene. “Kidfighting is okay, but I don’t want to see Ursa hurt like that. She will get battered in the ring, even if she wins more than she loses. She said she hates wearing the diaper, that she can’t fight in it. She feels silly, she said. Now, I know from talking to Helen there are fights where the kids go in naked. Nothing to stop them peeing on the floor. So she could go in for just those fights. But they are fewer and farther between Ursa wouldn’t get the early skills she needs to improve. She wouldn’t get near winning.”
Adele was staring at her mother. She’d never heard her talk like this. The woman ignored her daughter’s looks and continued: “So it seems to be our little girl has a choice. She either gets used to wearing a diaper, maybe all the time at home, even to school if we can, or we think of an alternative.”
“We?” Adele asked faintly.
Arlene sighed. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” she said, toying with her coffee cup. “Many years ago I was involved in something we called back then bitch wrestling. Before you were born. It was a turn on for me and lots of others, seeing small girls half-buried in mud trying to claw and scratch and try to murder each other. It was way more barbaric than the organized fights you’ve seen. Kidfights are positively civilized compared with those open air sessions. Two naked girls were put into a hole in the ground, it was filled with water to make all turn to mud and the two girls left to fight and claw and kick and bite and try everything they could to win. But then you were born and though I desperately wanted to put you in there, I couldn’t do it.”
“You were going to make me into a fighter? This… this mud fighter?”
“I was never going to do that to you,” Adele put her hand out and patted her daughter’s arm. “You weren’t going in there, trust me.”
“I’m still confused,” said Adele. “So you must have seen blood.”
“Yeah, lots of it. But it wasn’t the fighting that turned me on. That wasn’t why I was there.” The older woman paused. “It was how we treated the loser.”
“Oh God,” whispered Adele, suddenly aware of what her mom was going to say.
Arlene took a deep breath. “We took it in turns to shit on the losing girl. She was hauled out of the pit and tied down, or tied up and tossed back in and we all took it in turns to dump on her. And the bitch only got free when she ate some of the shit.” Another longer pause, before the woman said. “That was what I loved, seeing the girl eating my shit.”
Adele gulped. “So… you want Ursa to eat shit. Your shit.”
Arlene sighed and nodded. “Not what you expected, huh? You thought your stupid old mother just liked getting your husband’s cock in her, and I’d be happy with that.”
“No,” said Adele, but she wasn’t telling the truth. That was entirely what she thought.
“There’s more,” said Arlene. “I made a few enquiries, and I have to tell you honey that I know about the gym in Las Vegas. Even spoke on the phone to the woman who runs it, Pam.”
“How much do you know?” Gulped Adele.
“I know about the room and the bar next door. I know about the six non-fighting kids in there. I know they have to eat and drink what comes through the wall.” She suddenly leaned forward. “So I have a plan, and I want you to hear it. It will take time to implement, but I think we will all benefit.”
Adele felt faint and excited and aroused. “Go on, tell me please,” she said.
It was fair to say that despite the hopes for her, despite the huge amount of training Helen did on Ursa, the child was a disappointment when she went into the kidfight ring for her first real bout. The match was at the home of a wealthy woman, some fifty miles from where Adele’s home was, so it was quite an journey to get there. Everyone went, apart from Arlene and the increasingly isolated male of the family, though Yvonne asked that she should go bound and gagged along with Sian. While it was unusual to have the adult attendees at the fight bound and gagged apparently it wasn’t entirely unknown. “Some women,” said Helen, “prefer to watch in a state of helplessness. It takes all kinds,” she smiled and patted the trussed up Yvonne’s swollen belly and then tweaked her hard nipples after they had tied the pregnant woman to a chair by the ringside.
Sian, standing next to Yvonne, was also bound but like any girl present and secured standing up. However she was eagerly looking forward to seeing the fight and longed to wish Ursa the best of luck. She even tried to shout encouragement through her gag and only a few glares stopped her: gags, she was informed, were to keep little girls quiet.
Ursa however was looking worried as she got into the ring; she had been paired with a muscular, fat girl who wasn’t very mobile but Ursa seemed overawed by the event and in particular by the crowd of seventy women. Helen insisted that if Ursa danced round her opponent, called Marge, then she would win – but the key to it was movement and avoiding the tubby Marge’s punches. For some reason Ursa froze as soon as the fight began and having been knocked back on to the electric wire round the ring she staggered from the shock and slipped. With her dropping her guard and forgetting to move, only unconsciousness saved the newcomer from being smashed up even more than she was.
Fortunately it wasn’t the only fight on the bill and no one was too bothered by how short it was. On the way home everyone was quiet: the two girls were still tied but for Ursa it was punishment for her below-standard showing. She wouldn’t be coming out of her ropes for a while, everyone knew, and she just lay on he floor of the car with her face hidden by bandages. Meanwhile, Helen blamed herself for the debacle:. “I thought she was ready but the electric shock put her off completely. I tried to give her some shocks in training to prepare her but clearly not enough. She forgot everything I taught her once that happened.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” said Adele. “I was happy to see her just fighting, and it was a pretty powerful climax for me when she was knocked out.”
“But that wasn’t really why we were there,” said Helen morosely. “We were there to win. I didn’t prepare Ursa enough.”
Theresa, who had largely kept quiet because she was driving, said: “It’s that dammed diaper, isn’t it? She doesn’t like it. So either she goes into the totally naked fight game or she has to be plugged up.”
Helen nodded. “Plugged may be the only way.”
“What exactly,” asked Adele, “does that mean?”
“Plugged,” explained Theresa, “means the little bitch has an insert in her urinary tract. A sort of catheter. And her asshole is plugged up, so nothing leaks when she fights. No diaper, but no mess.”
“Is that possible?” Asked Adele.
“Very,” confirmed Helen. “But she may not get to fight in some diaper fights because of the way some contests are billed.” She shrugged. “But it may be the answer to her problem.”
Adele nodded, and began to play with herself. The thought of Ursa plugged up and unable to piss or shit suddenly seemed very arousing. “I’d like to keep her like that all the time,” said Adele, blushing because she couldn’t contain her excitement. She glanced at the still gagged Yvonne, whose eyes were shining too. Maybe she wanted that for her Sian too. Like Helen said, it takes all sorts.
The anti-piss and non-shit plugs were uncomfortable and Ursa complained, though Sian less so. Their training still involved diapers but not exclusively so, and when naked and just plugged up Ursa did much better than before. In fact she laid Sian out a couple of times and had to be stopped from pounding the helpless younger girl when she had clearly won.
Adele also got her way round the home and Ursa had to be plugged all the time, which enabled the six-year old to get used to them more, and also meant her timing her toilet visits. But Ursa walked a little strangely with the devices in her, and Adele worried again.
The mother approached Mrs Norton, who was Ursa’s class teacher, when she was on her own to explain that Ursa might look uncomfortable and walk awkwardly because, she said, their family doctor had insisted on some “correctional devices to help the girl’s toilet problems.” Given that Miss Norton had never seen any sign of difficulties with the girl, she was curious. She explained that she had no problem with children sent to school with some sort of plug in them; apparently, said the forty year old woman, a good number of moms liked to have their girls plugged for so called correctional reasons.
Adele was astonished. “You mean, they are prevented from… from…” She hesitated, Mrs Norton was a formidable looking but rather prim woman and not the sort who seemed at ease with lewd phrases.
But she was more than comfortable. “You mean to stop them shitting or pissing,” she said without a flicker of disapproval in her voice or look of distaste on her face. “Of course. Forgive me, but sometimes the little bitches need to be prevented from doing all sorts of things.”
Ursa’s mother gulped. This was not what she expected. “You mean, some of the girls in the class are like Ursa?”
“Not quite,” grinned the middle-aged woman. “Ursa is the only one who goes in for kidfights as far as i know.”
“You know?” Adele’s mouth sagged open. Did they have any secrets left?
“Your daughter has been punched a few times: I can tell when she gets back into class some Monday mornings. She looks like she has been beaten up pretty well. She got a sparring partner, or she into the full kidfight game.”
Adele gulped again. “Both, now. She fought the other day and lost badly. That’s why we need her plugged.” She couldn’t believe she was saying all this.
Mrs Norton nodded. “Good,” she said. “In which case she can carry on. To be honest, your daughter is a nice enough kid but if she were mine…” The woman paused.
“Go on,” said Adele, heart beating harder.
“I’d keep her all tied up and beat her myself,” said the teacher.
“What?”
“I understand there are kidfights, and women who get off on seeing girls beat each other up,” said the imposing woman. “I don’t subscribe personally. But my thing is beating up the kids myself.” She shrugged, as if it was just one of those things. “One or two of the moms here understand that and lend me their girls from time to time.”
“Who?” asked Adele, feeling faint.
“Little Lexi Cowper for one, I am sure you have seen her.”
Adele nodded. Lexi Cowper was a lovely, almost doll-like little girl with pale skin and nearly white hair. She looked small and frail as it was. The thought of her being tied and beaten by her teacher made Adele want to clutch her cunt. “You… you go and hurt her?” It seemed a pointless question but the teacher nodded.
“Make her quite a mess, yeah,” said the woman. “If you like, you can watch me and her. I am due a session with Lexi this weekend in fact, over at my place. So want to watch what a woman can do to a child for a change? It’s pretty brutal.”
“Oh God, yes,” gasped Adele, her hand up her skirt again.
“Good,” said the woman. “Here, let me do that,” she said and put her hand up Adele’s skirt. “I am sure you wouldn’t mind fingering me if while do it to you.”
“Not at all,” moaned Adele. She even didn’t mind Mrs Norton putting her fat tongue in her mouth, either. Life, she concluded, was getting so much better every day.
THE END OF CHAPTER FIVE