The Foundation by Mark J.


“Is this becoming a regular occurrence?”

“I don’t know, Lori,” replied Lynn. “The word spread after Stacy and Barbara settled a feud here. Now maybe it’s become a thing to do for former members of the Playboy Empire. The King, Hef, is dead. Long live the Queens.”

The Co-CEOS of The Women’s Foundation for Advanced Studies and Research watched the camera image of the women sitting in the large conference room. They recognized Stacy Sanches from her visit months ago to settle an imagined dispute with a former lover, Barabara Moore. Both former Playmates, vicious rumors led to a nasty private catfight. The Foundation provided women with a very intimate venue for physical combat, away from the prying eyes of the tabloids and the public. Another name for the Foundation was the Secret Female Fight Club. Women could claw, scratch, and bite, and no one was the wiser.

The one caveat was all Tussles, as they were called, were filmed and sold to the Dark Web and traditional adult entertainment sites. The combatants’ faces were digitally altered to protect their identity when requested. Of course, some participants wanted the world to know they could kick ass and take names. Most people well-known in the public eye did not. Either way, the Foundation collected a stipend from most participants; the selling of the media was profitable to the point that the original benefactor's grant had been paid many times over.

Very public people like Stacy and her new opponent, Julie Cialini, were expected to post a significant bond to forgo litigation. The bond was expected when the fights were near no-holds-barred and in the nude. Lori and Lynn had concluded the rich and famous, including Playmates, were nasty monkeys. The posted bonds protected the opponents from themselves by assisting in covering and medical and plastic surgery needed after such vicious fights.

Julie Cialini glared at Stacy across the wide wooden table.

Stacy met her gaze.

“No love lost between those two,” said Lori after noticing the stink eye looks.

“They were once roommates at the Playboy Mansion in the 1990s,” replied Lynn. “The two tall, shapely women were very similar in size and weight. Hef seemed to have a ‘look’ he wanted for Playboy Playmates during certain times in his life. He liked to room women together by body types, it seems.”

“Well, they are very close in size. Stacy is 5’10”, Julie is 5’11”, and both are a shade less than one hundred thirty pounds of athleticism. Julie is 34B-24-35, and Stacy is 34C-24-36. They are both close to being well preserved fifty years of age.”

“Both of them have good-sized breasts as targets, Lori. Stacy found that out in her early fight with Barbara Moore.”

Lori took another look at the documentation they had obtained.

“It seems these two may have had an earlier fight at the Playboy Mansion, around the last part of the 1990s. It was sometime after a very catty appearance on the Howard Stern show in February 1997.”

“Well, if they did, that would explain the challenge now. It sounds like unfinished business..”

“Who are their Seconds?”

“ In this photo, Stacy’s sister Kim is on the right. She is her sister's Second.”

“ And Julie’s?”Asked Lori.

“Julie’s sister, Sandy. On the left in this photo, she is the woman helping with a Fireman's Carry on Julie.”

“Both of the sisters were models also?”

“Kim was a Playmate; Sandy was not,” replied Lynn.

“Well, sisters sometimes fight, so Julie might have some additional experience we don’t know of right now.”

“We have sources who said Stacy and Kim had some regular knockdown drag-outs growing up. According to one source, Kim hit Stacy on the back with an iron once.”

“Huh. Maybe the sister fights explain Stacy’s quick actions during the fight with Barbara Moore. Lynn, do we have any similar information on Julie?”

“Just the report from several sources of the fight at the Playboy Mansion.”

“Well, let’s bring the Seconds into the meeting room and get the show on the road.”

Lynn and Lori invited the respective sisters into the large room, with the two camps placed on opposite sides of the oversized table. The Co-CEOS had learned at The Foundation that some women wanted to fight right then and there. Trying to pull two women apart on a table as they clawed and bit was no fun.

“Well, ladies, we know why we are here,” Lynn said. “Stacy and Julie have signed on for a Foundation Fight. Please sign the documents placed before you and your Seconds. They outline the rules and conditions of this Tussle, which are few based on your desires. Lori, can you read them aloud, please?”

“Participants will be nude. Lite moisturizer may be applied to your bodies the night before and lite lubricant to your various orifices tomorrow morning. No eye-gouging, rabbit punching, or blows to the throat are allowed. You may bite and scratch all you want, just no biting off of body parts, like nipples or hunks from butt cheeks. Forced penetration by fingers and the such, as well as by supplied dildos and phallus, are allowed. It makes for a great film.”

Lori paused for a moment, then continued.

“The fight will not be stopped due to blood. As the medical officer, I will only halt the fighting if I feel death or permanent dismemberment, or paralysis is about to occur. Your finger and toenails will be re-sharpened by our manicurist in the morning to ensure equal length and sharpness. Everything else is allowed. Are there any questions?”

“You said you have plastic surgeons available?” Asked Julie.

“Yes, Julie, the best and access to other doctors and clinics. Your one hundred thousand dollar bonds you posted help cover those costs.”

Julie glared at Stacy.

“She is going to need all that.”

Stacy laughed.

“Oh, like last time, at the mansion grotto? Where I kicked your ass?”

“You did not! You just tried to drown me, you psycho, and failed.”

“That was because Hef and some others broke it up.”

“Stupid cunt.”


Stacy and Julie rose from their seats and were about to leap at each other across the table. Lynn slammed a long baton-shaped object on the tabletop, the sound causing everyone to look in her direction.

“Stacy, you should recognize this. My husband picked this up in Texas.”

“Is that a cattle prod?” Asked Stacy.

“Correctomundo, as he would say. I will use it on whoever gets out of line. We may be planning a brawl, but there are still a few rules. One is that nothing happens until 8:00 AM tomorrow.”

The two former Playmates glared at each other, as did their sisters.

“Okay,” said Lori. “You have your room assignments. The Foundation will provide whatever food and drink you want to be delivered. There will be no midnight catfights in the dark. Any Questions? Then, see you in the morning in Fight Hall.”

Hours later, Stacy was in an oversized bathtub soaking in some bubble bath. She also was masturbating. Something the MMA fighter Ronda Rousey said in years past about how sex produced additional testosterone in women, helping physical activity Stacy took to heart. She had just finished a squealing orgasm when her sister Kim knocked on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure, Sis. Crawl in, and you can wash my back.”

Kim was soon washing her back as Stacy let the warmth of the orgasm and bathwater play through her body.

“You never told me the whole story of that grotto fight, Stacy.”

“I didn’t want to rub it in Hef’s face. He’s dead now, so no harm, no foul.”

“So, you and I used to have some brawls, like when I hit you with the clothes iron.”

“You won that one. I beat the crap out of you later. Your tits had bruises on bruises.”

“So, tell me, Stacy. What was it like? Did you try to drown each other?”

Stacy leaned back between her sister's outstretched legs. Kim’s breasts rubbed against her back, and Stacy thought that if there were another pair of breasts, she would be sucking and fondling them. However, even with women, incest was not a good idea. They had ‘played’ at it during Playboy Photo Sessions, but that was not reality.

“It was all spontaneous, Kim. Although, as roommates, I think things were coming to a head. Julie had a way to remind you that she was trying to help you act as a dominant one just because she was about three years older.”

“So, what happened?”

“It started in the grotto when I squirted her….”

Hefner planned another party in the famous, or infamous, Mansion Grotto late that afternoon. Hef had the oversized swimming hole built for summer California pool parties and evening rendezvous between couples, triads, foursomes, you name it. The founder of the Playboy Empire just had the pool water wholly cleaned as there were to be some new guests at his chingadera, as they sometimes say in Texas. Stacy and Julie decided to grab a nice swim in the almost pristine waters of the Grotto before everyone else showed up. Once guests, Bunnies, and Playmates arrived, alcohol, soda, snacks, and various bodily fluids would soon find their way into the water.

Stacy and Julie, once roommates, were trying to ‘work things out’ after some conflict post-1996 Playmate of the Year for Stacy. The appearance on the Howard Stern Show in February 1997 demonstrated some simmering hard feelings and personal dislike between the two former Mansion roommates for the millions in the Stern audience. Hef heard about it, and his daughter and CEO of Playboy Enterprises, Christe Hefner, told the two women to bury the hatchet if they wanted to keep using the Playboy Brand in their careers. Fantasies about Playmate catfights were one thing; actual fights hurt the Playboy image. Thus, Christie highly suggested that the two appear at the pool party. The two tried to make nice by taking a dip in the Grotto pool.

Of course, 99% of the women at the Mansion had smoking hot swimsuit bodies, with Stacy and Julie being no exception. They and the others would be an attraction for the guests. They decided to take a private nude swim while testing a revitalized friendship until then.

Being roommates, they had seen each other's bodies close up. The truth be told, on a couple of occasions, after some wild Mansion parties, they had done some mutual bodily exploration. However, both women quickly told the other they preferred men. (Question: Why did it take twice to express that concept?) These little tet de tets might be a source of stress, and Julie complained about Stacy ignoring her after the Texan became the PMOY of 1996.

The Grotto was just a shade over six feet at the deepest end, which was distant from the party area. The two women, both excellent swimmers, slid into the deep end and were soon enjoying the cool water on a warming California afternoon. Stacy hoped that Julie would enjoy the relative quiet instead of expressing her opinions on life in general and the Playboy Foundation. Julie seemed to need to give Stacy advice about her career as a model as if she was so much more experienced, which she wasn’t. Playmate of the Year 1995 versus Playmate of the Year 1996? So Julie had one more year as a Playmate. That did not make her the all-knowing queen.

As the two women swam with hair tied back with scrunchies, Julie kept with her narratives on all things about modeling, film, Playboy; you name it. Stacy just wished she would shut up for a while. Things would be noisy enough when the party crown arrived,

Once again, the now temporary roommates were soon in the four feet deep section of the Grotto, with Julie still bloviating. A slight, almost evil grin formed on Stacy’s mouth as she trapped some water between her interlaced fingers and palms. Her father and uncles had shown her a trick to squirt water in a pool. As Julie faced her standing up in the shallow area, Stacy sprayed water into her face.

The 1995 Playmate of the Year squealed and sputtered as the water hit her eyes and nose.

“Hey! What was that?”

Stacy laughed.

“Just a little joke. Lighten up and relax, Julie. You’re lecturing--”

“Don’t do it again, Stacy. “

Stacy grinned.

“Why not? We’re in a pool, so you expect to get wet.”

“I said, don’t do it again.”


“Just Don’t.”

Stacy grinned and worked her way to Julies left side.

“Hey, Roomie,” Stacy called out. “Look at this.”

“What?” Julie asked as she turned to face Stacy.

A stream of water went up her nostrils more by chance than accuracy. Julie sputtered, then sneezed. Stacy laughed at the unexpected effect of her hand squirt.

“Hey, sorry about the water up the nose-“

The slap across Stacy’s face sounded like the crack of a rifle shot.

“Goddammit, I said No!

The shock and strength of the slap almost knocked Stacy off her feet. She touched the reddening spot on her cheek as Julie glared at her.

“Stacy, quit acting like a little bitchy child.”

Stacy saw red.

You Cunt!” The 1996 Playmate of the Year lunged at Julie and wrapped her strong fingers around her throat, digging sharp fingernails into Julie’s soft flesh. Stacy shoved Julie under the pool’s surface and towards the bottom. The fight was on.

A shocked Julie grabbed Stacy’s hands with a wide-eyed stare as her back hit the pool bottom. In the clear and clean water, Julie saw a feral grin on Stacy’s face as she struggled the free her throat from the clawing hands. Stacy tried to straddle Julie under the water as the brown-eyed Playmate fought back. Julie brought a flexible and robust leg up between the nude bodies and kicked/pushed Stacy in her naked crotch. Stacy was shoved up and over Julie in the buoyant medium, and her water-slicked hands loosened their grip. Julie scrambled to the pool's surface to meet an enraged Stacy.

“You crazy Bitch, “ spit Julie. “Who do you think-“

Stacy lunged once again and slammed her nude body against Julie’s. Stacy clawed at Julie’s face and tried to force the woman’s head into the water. Julie responded with her claws, scratching at Stacy's face and throat. The women lost their footing, and both dunked under the surface. Hands went to throats as each struggled to mount and straddle the other at the bottom of the shallows, choking their rival into submission or drowning. The water buoyancy and slipperiness meant they had difficulty in keeping a superior position over the other woman; the two bobbed to the surface, now cursing and screaming at each other. Stacy grabbed Julie in a headlock and tried to force Julies head underwater once again. Stacy screamed as Julie jammed sharp fingernails into her sensitive brown eye between her shapely buttocks. The slicing fingernails broke the headlock hold, and Julie took a wild swing at Stacy, who deflected it.

Both women went for each other with a single thought; yank wet and loose hair. The Playmates screamed and cursed as they tried their best to scalp the other woman. Stacy stepped on Julie’s right foot and shoved, using the hair hold to twist Julie’s head towards the stone edge of the Grotto pool. Once there, Stacy tried her best to slam Julie’s head against the Grotto rock and cement edge. Julie gouged at Stacy’s left eye with her right thumb, and Stacy reacted by sinking her strong teeth into the offending hand. The 1996 PMOY released her bite and yelped as her labia were clawed with the sharp fingernails of Julie’s other hand.

“You Cunt!” Stacy bellowed as she let go of Julie’s head and returned the favor by clawing her rivals pussy. It was Julie’s turn to scream in pain as Stacy tried to do as much damage with gouging and clawing fingernails. Both attempted to insert digits into the sensitive love canal of the other. Then Julie sank her teeth into Stacy’s left shoulder, and Stacy reacted the same. They worried about each other's soft flesh like dogs with a bone, separated as the pain became too great. However, they were now bleeding and had the taste of the other's blood in their mouths.

They stayed apart for just moments before they once again grappled in close combat. They sank their fingernails into each other's tits and tried to use the large mammary as handles to yank the other woman around the Grotto. They were on the pool's edge, and each tried to slam the other into the rock edifice. Repositioned thumbnails targeted nipples as they attempted to turn the other’s breasts into bloody ruins. If their faces were not wet, they would have noticed tears of pain and rage running down their rival’s faces.

Their screams and curses now drew the attention of the other occupants of the Mansion. Playmates and Bunnys arriving for the party were soon at the Grotto’s edge. At first, some yelled encouragement for Stacy and Julie to kick the other’s asses. Then cooler heads prevailed, and several women jumped into the Grotto to separate the two vicious catfighters.

CEO Christi Hefner appeared and ordered the two women taken to separate rooms and their injuries treated. A few members of the Playboy kingdom were also trained medical professionals.

“I’ll see them personally later,” Christi fumed. “Hopefully, the pool filters will handle any blood and hair left behind.”

The CEO ordered everyone to silence upon pain of being fired, and the chaperone on duty for the Bunnies and Playmates staying at the Mansions received an angry dressing down by Christi. The Playboy Brand must not be damaged by women catfighting like schoolgirls. There was enough pushback by feminist organizations that the Playboy so-called Empire objectified women as objects. If catfights occurred and were seen as promoted as possible entertainment, the public image would worsen if the word got out.

“We were taken to separate rooms,” said Julie to her sister Sandy as she told her version of the fight. “Christi Hefner threatened to run us out of town on a rail if we ever spoke of this or did this again in a Playboy Enterprises event.”

Sandy tried to rub the stiffness from her sister's shapely and strong shoulders.

“You tighten up as if this happened yesterday, Julie. Didn’t you two try to work out this whole problem? You know, bury the hatchet?”

“HA. We were ready to bury the hatchet into each other's heads. The Playboy Enterprises staff always tried to keep us well-supervised after that, no real-time alone. Stacy and I would have clawed each other's eyes out.”

“Did you have any other opportunities to continue the fight?”

“In the Fear Factor episode in 2002, the show staff kept us apart as best as possible. We still almost met in an alley near the show shoot site. Someone got wind of it, and we soon had a chaperone watching us.”

Sandy frowned as she kept kneading her sister’s muscles.

“That was what, twenty years ago, Julie? And you two still have this animosity?”

Julie grunted, then replied.

“Ever since word got out about the fight between Stacy and Barbara Moore, people have been talking shit about my fight with Stacy. It’s time to end this now.”

Sandy stopped the massage and looked into her sister's eyes.

“You watched the Dark Web video of that fight. The Foundation is making big bucks off of two women mauling each other. You want to be part of that?”

“Time to settle this now, Sandy. I know I may be clawed and beat to shit. However, I’ll be satisfied with fucking her body and face up. The bitch needs to be taken down a notch.”

“Well, it’s your funeral, as they say. By the way, Julie. Did you hear about Rhonda Rousey’s take on women having sex before a fight?”

At 8:00 AM the following morning, the combatants and their seconds met the Foundation staff at the vast room used as the Tussle location. Lynn and Lori liked to advertise the fights as Titanic Tussles, so a Tussle became the official term for the vicious catfights. This morning, two blonde Foundation physical trainers were also present. Erin Rogers and Brooke Gulliksen wanted to observe the fitness level of a fifty-year-old former Playmate. Erin was tall and slender, and Brooke was buxomer. They were responsible for ensuring fighters could obtain a certain fitness level and capabilities for regular participation in Tussles. Some women found an almost addictive need to return for fights with random Foundation participants.

Erin and Brooke sat near Lynn and Lori as Stacy and Julie performed last-minute stretching and warm-up.

“Their bodies are excellent for their ages,’ opined Erin. Lori could not help but notice the slender blonde stared at the ladies’ naked crotches when they bent over or stretched. Lori smiled as she once again thought just how beautiful and erotic was the naked female body. The labia majora and minor, the nether region lips, parted and moved during ceratin stretches as if connected to a different creature. Lori knew her panties would soon be damp with excitement if she wore any.

Stacy and Julie kept firm stares at their opponents as they warmed up. Lori knew the two PMOYs were sizing each other after years of no contact. The psychologist and MD could see the ‘stink eye’ in the looks. These two women had a history of dislike, which was readily discernible.

“This fight will be nasty,” said Lynn as she placed a hand on Lori’s nylon-covered knee. The Co-CEOs and sometimes lovers both wore matching blue top-end ladies' business suits and spike heels. After the Tussle and all the follow-up work was done for the day, the excited attractive blondes would leave for a private room and fuck their brains out. Sometimes, Lori’s husband would join in. Both of the CEOs were the original fighters of the Foundation and set all the current standards.

Thus they examined the Tussle Room, or Hall as it was sometimes called, before all combat. The CEOs set the highschool gym sized area up as a modified living room, not as a wrestling hall or boxing ring. There were love seats, ottomans, settees, and the infamous/famous oversized sofa called the Combat Couch. Connected was a bar/nightclub area for fetish fights. Some women wanted to relive Tussles in their youth or create ones they fantasized about (The Fight with the Prom Queen was a favorite.) Lori and Lynn wanted the catfights to be realistic, not just a Judo or wrestling contest. This morning, many fights were like the one; a grudge match to settle some perceived wrong.

The rivals could use various pieces of furniture to their advantage, like in any good brawl. One unique feature was the Punishment Pole. A padded column off to one side of the area, various dildoes and phallus attached to it could be used to ‘punish’ your rival into submission. They could also pound the other woman’s head into the pole, which had a minimum of padding.

The combats were to submission or agree upon a tie. As time went by, more and more fights were in the nude with just the minimum of rules/restrictions. Thus, Stacy and Julie were here today, bent on clawing, biting, hitting, kicking, and choking to victory. They could have added near-drowning in the connected covered Olympic-sized pool. If planned, an actual Foundation locker room and showers could be used as a scene for a fight.

Sexual eroticism connected to catfights was well known. Thus, some fights were strictly sexual—this Tussle between the two PMOYs was not one of them.

Lynn stood up to ready the participants.

“Okay, Ladies. You know the rules, which are so very few. There are no rounds as in boxing; you fight until submission or exhaustion; or if our Medical Officer Lori stops it. Any last comments you care to make?”

“I see you still have the fake hard tits,” said Julie as she stepped towards the ready circle.

“The wonders of modern science, Julie. The gummy bear silicon type is soft, sensitive, and pliable, like unenhanced breasts. Your tits are starting to sag and stretch like Granny's tits, old douche bags.”

“We’ll see if they stand up to me smashing them.”

“The same can be said about your tits, Julie.”

“Last chance to back out, Ladies,” Lynn interjected. “Kiss and makeup, it’s been done here.”

She wants this,” said Stacy. “She called it, and I’ll finish it. No Playboy Enterprise to interfere; Hef is dead.”

“No way she gets away,” growled Julie. “Time to pay the piper, bitch.”

“You’re the bitchy one, Julie. You hoped the other women would fall off the suspended tightrope for a laugh at the Fear Factor. The laugh was on you as you lost first.”

“You chickened out in the cold water challenge. What a wimp.”

“We Texans are used to warm water, so I failed. But I don’t take it out on others.”

“No, Stacy, you just use so-called friends, then ignore them.”

“God, are we back to that? I used you because I didn’t call you while on the PMOY tour; I used you? Sorry if I didn’t want to hear your constant advice-giving as if you were an expert. Give me a break.”

“How about a broken nose or tit? Would that suffice, Texas bitch?”

“New York cunt. Let’s see how far your saggy tits will stretch.”

“And with those comments, Ladies, let's all step back for a final consultation with your Seconds,” interjected Lynn. Stacy huddled up with Kim, Julie with Sandy.

“Stacy, she’s as big as you are; you have no reach advantage,” Kim advised. “Expect her to kick and punch.”

“Julie,” Sandy said in hushed tones. “That film of her last fight showed Stacy is a vicious infighter. She’ll go after your sensitive parts.”

“Sixty seconds, Ladies. When the buzzer sounds, the Tussle is on.”

The two rivals stepped towards the clear area between the various furniture. The women's bodies seemed to shine with a sheen of sweat and the light covering of skin lotion.

“They’re gorgeous,” said Brooke. “I have to admit it would be fun to wrestle them.”

“You may be able to challenge them later,” said Lori. “But first, they have to get through this fight.”

The two rivals stood and glared at each other a few yards apart. The buzzer sounded, and they advanced. There was no bums rush. Instead, they circled and tested each other with long-legged kicks and kick-boxing punches. They demonstrated their martial arts training and physical fitness to the small audience, and neither scored any damaging strikes.

A frustrated Julie decided to break this pattern. She attacked with a series of front snap kicks to drive Stacy back towards the Punishment Pillar. The plan must be to set up Stacy for a roundhouse front kick as Julie unleashed a textbook example at the end of a series of snap kicks. Stacy’s reflexes enabled her to perform a two-armed block and grab onto the extended leg before Julie could rover it for another kick. Off-balance, Julie hopped on her back leg as she attempted to reach forward and grab a handful of Stacy’s hair for stability. Both women had agreed not to tie back or braid their hair but leave it loose for hair-pulling contests.

As Julie reached for Stacy and tried to keep her balance, the Texan slipped a foot behind Julie’s support leg and tripped her backward. Julie tried not to fall with Stacy on top but failed. Stacy landed with her breasts and torso, compressing Julie’s and demonstrating that her enhanced tits were soft and pliable.

Julie twisted her free and trapped legs to attempt an MMA guard position to prevent Stacy from pinning her. Stacy let go of Julie’s leg and made a nasty attack. Before Julie could protect herself, Stacy jammed a spear hand thrust between her thighs and her vulva. Julie yelped in pain and tried to shove and kick the Texan away rather than use a leg scissor to trap her. Slaps and blows at Stacy’s head and face helped remove her hand from between Julie’s legs. The 1996 PMOY rolled away and up to a standing crouch. Julie scrambled to her feet while holding her painful pussy.

“You cunt!” Julie spit at Stacy.

“All’s fair in love and war, jism breath. Want to try that kick again?”

Julie growled and bum-rushed her rival, and Stacy caught her attacker with clawed hands at her face and throat. Julie cursed and did the same with her fingernails. The two women grunted, cursed, squealed, and hissed as they dug and gouged at their soft flesh while attempting to knee each other in their pubis.

“Nasty, “ said Lynn.

“And this is only the beginning,’ replied Lori.

The sexy women’s legs entangled, falling to the carpet-covered floor. Strong fingers choked their rival's throat as they rolled on the floor, attempting to mount the other and strangle her into submission. First Julie was on top, then Stacy. Faces flushed red as gripping fingers restricted their air. The two Playmates ended up side by side and began lashing out with their feet. The sharpened toenails soon left bloody scratches on the thighs and lower abdomens. Then they kicked hard with both feet and dislodged the throat grips. They rolled away and sat up, panting and rubbing their throats.

“Care to end this, Ladies?” Asked Lori.

“Fuck no,” said Stacy as she stood up. Julie joined her, rubbing her throat.

“I am going to fuck you up, you skanky Texan.”

“You and what army?”

Once again, the combatants circled each other, looking for an opening. Stacy feinted a kick to the crotch, then lunged in low. She attempted a low tackle around Julie’s shapely yet scratched legs. Julie reacted quickly with a knee smash to Stacy’s left tit, then pumped a knee into the right breast as she twisted Stacy sideways. The blue-eyed Playmate stumbled and fell sideways. Her brown-eyed rival dropped down on Stacy’s enhanced bosom, smashing the mammary under her knees.

“Watch your tits pop, bitch!” Julie yelled. Stacy cried out and tried to shove Julie off her hurt tits. Julie leaned her entire weight on the chest of her further roommate with a feral grin on her lips. As Julie prepared to start slapping Stacy, her eyes widened, and she screamed. Sharp index and social fingernails jammed between Julie’s ass cheeks into the sensitive anus. Julie jerked, slid off her rival’s chest, and twisted away from the impaling fingers. Stacy kicked at Julie despite her bruised breasts and rolled in the opposite direction.

Both women kneeled, facing the other several yards away. Stacy rubbed her breasts as Julie felt her asshole to determine any damage.

“Your butt’s going to bleed, twat,” hissed Stacy.

“I bet your tits will have to be rebuilt, “ growled Julie.

“Let’s finish this, you piece of shit.”

Both women stood and once again circled each other.

“Bets as to how long this will go on,” said Lynn.“No bets today,” replied Lori. “This Tussle will end viciously.”

Kicks and punches started this portion of the conflict, breasts being among the targets. Stacy tried to turn Julies tits into speed bags, and Julie responded with hard hits, which squished Stacy’s mammary against her rib cage.

“Those tits are going to be bruised tonight,” opined Lynn.

Next, the two women lunged at each other, grabbed handfuls of hair, and began yanking each other about the room. The struggle gravitated to the Punishment Pillar, and each was slammed by the other into the mounted phalli. Quickly tiring of these tactics as not damaging enough, they went back to clawing, kicking, slapping, punching, and then biting.

Julie lunged, grabbed Stacy’s tit, and bit down hard; the Texan screamed and clawed at Julie’s face and head, breaking the grip of the teeth. However, Julie had tasted blood.

“You Cunt!” Yelled Stacy, and she tackled her former roommate. Biting, slapping, scratching, and kicking, Stacy completed a form of a wrestling reversal and shoved Julie's breast down on a nearby loveseat. There the Texan sank her teeth into the rump of the New Yorker as she clawed the ass cheeks apart to expose the lower brown eye for excellent gouging. Julie shrieked as Stacy took a turn, tasting female blood and jamming sharp fingernails into the anal opening. Kicking and punching, Julie managed to break free.

“Well, they both have drawn and tasted blood,” observed Lynn to Lori.

“Yes. This fight is long and nasty. But the two wanted it.”

The women stood back from each other once again. Stacy looked at the blood seeping from her breast as Julie probed her butt again and returned with blood on her fingers. The former roommates glared at each other thru tear-filled eyes. The pain and rage were palpable to all the observers.

“Another chance to call it a draw,” Lori called out.

“Forget it,” the Playmates called out in unison. The two rushed at each other, slamming breast to breast into each other. Like years ago in the Grotto, they dug fingers sharp nails into the other’s mammary and used them as handles to shove and pull their rival around the room. Knees impacted pubis, yet neither woman swooned from the pain. It was as if the combatants had passed a threshold, and their bodies were numb to further damage unless it was more extreme.

They stumbled and crashed down on the reinforced coffee table near the Combat Couch. Julie was in the top superior position and stretched her head down to bite at Stacy’s face. The Texan had been in this position before during her fight with Barbara. She again responded with a head butt to her rival in the nose. Julie jerked her head back, a bit stunned and Stacy took the opportunity to shove her off. Despite the blow to the nose, Julie scrambled to her feet as her nose began to bleed. Stacy slid off the other side of the coffee table.

As Julie checked the damage to her nose, Stacy stepped up on the coffee table and launched herself at Julie. Breasts once again were smushed together as Stacy took Julie to the carpet. Now it was Stacy’s turn to attempt a face bite. The New Yorker used a sharp-nailed thumb for a fishhook in Stacy’s cheek as a defense. Stacy twisted her head and tried to bite the offending digit; then rolled off Julie as the Texan grabbed and pulled the hand away from her mouth. No way would she risk her cheek being ripped open.

Julie slapped at Stacy’s face with her free hand while she tried to mount the other woman. Stacy brought her right knee up to her chest and squished Julie’s tits with her foot as she shoved/kicked the brown-eyed beauty off and away. Stacy scrambled to her feet as Julie did the same. The two PMOYs stood panting and glaring at each other.

“So tell me, Julie, did you really auction off a worn bikini for some cash?”

“At least someone wants it, bitch.’

“Male or female?”

“ Who cares? You enjoyed my pussy once or twice. Then you ignored me.”

“I knew that was why you were so angry. I may be bisexual, but that was just for fun. I have a daughter now.”

“Well, here’s a present for you both.”

Julie spits a wad of mucus and blood from her nose with great accuracy; it splattered on Stacy’s bloody tit.

“You smelly twat!” Stacy hissed at her and then lunged at the 1995 PMOY. The clawed hands of both Playmates scratched at faces and mammary as the two combatants cursed and yelled. Twisting legs and thighs deflected knees to the crotch, so no advantage for a damaged clitoris was gained. Long, shapely, and scratched legs again became intertwined, and the two women fell to the carpet. As the two women rolled around and wrestled, they clawed each other soft yet muscular backs and buttocks. The fight was becoming one of damaging the rival's body rather than winning the Tussle.

They began choking each other again, seeing who had the most muscular fingers. Soon, they were equally matched, no quarter asked, and none was given. Both women have again kicked apart on the verge of blood and oxygen deprivation to the brain. They rolled several feet away from the other woman and lay panting and rubbing their throats.

“Pause in action for a medical exam,” Lori called out as she stood up and walked towards the fighters.

The Doctor knelt and checked the throats and necks of Stacy and Julie. “I don’t want anyone dying on my watch from a crushed throat.”

Lori stood up and looked at both of the women.

“Again, agreeing to a draw is no dishonor.”

“No,” replied Stacy. “We end this here. I don’t want another fight the next time Julie gets her panties in a bunch.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” said Julie as she slowly rose to her feet.

“Always playing the victim.”

Stacy stood up, glaring at Julie.

“And you can’t let things go. You have a fucked up mind.”

The two attractive but now banged-up women circled each other once again. Scratches, bitemarks, gouges, blackening eyes, and bruises covered most of their feminine flesh.

“I think your referrals to plastic surgeons will get a workout after this fight,” said Erin, the physical trainer.

“I agree, Ern,” replied Lynn. “These two are Everyready Bunnies which just want to damage each other as possible.”

As Lynn spoke, Stacy and Julie attacked each other once again. This time, the two PMOYs used vice grips on each other's pubis as they used their free hand to grab headhair and yank as hard as possible. They cursed, squealed in pain, and stumbled around the fight area as they tried to gain an advantage. Tears of pain and anger streamed down their faces, with neither combatant willing to cry “Uncle’ or Auntie.” Sharp fingernails gouged their labia, and additional blood was added to the sweat.

Then, each woman changed from hair pull attempts to eye gouges. “Stop the fight!” Lori yelled out as the CEOs, and physical trainers lept to their feet and grabbed the fighters. The Foundation members took a good minute to break the holds on female genitalia and faces. Stacy and Julie were turned over to their Seconds and moved to opposite ends of the large room. Lori began physical examinations of the eyes for severe damage. After several minutes, Lori addressed the small group of women.

“Time to stop this. You ladies have done enough damage to each other. “

“You two need to decide if you want a rematch,” added Lynn. “However, I suggest you two think about shaking hands, hugging each other, kissing, and make-up. I see you two at a future meet in an alley and try to kill each other. If someone dies, the other goes to prison. Are your pride and anger worth it?”

Stacy and Julie sat silent as their sisters tended to the bloody injuries. After almost five minutes, Stacy spoke up.

“Julie, I get the point. You were hurt and angry years ago. I had reasons for being pissed at you, making me bitchy. But a squirt of water and a slap after over twenty years causing us to try and mutilate each other? Is it worth it?”

Julie paused in her answer, then spoke.

“I guess we can agree to disagree. You're a nasty fighter, as am I. However, I don’t know if we can ever be friends.”

“Can we not be enemies?” Stacy replied.

“I guess, Stacy. But I am not in the mood to kiss and make up.”

“How about I kiss and makeup with Julie’s sister?” Asked Kim. Sandy shrugged.

“If this stops my sister Julie from going through another nasty brawl, I can act as a surrogate.”

Stacy looked at her sister and nodded yes, and Julie did the same. The two former models stepped forward, hugged, and kissed. Erin and Brooke assisted the fighters to the communal showers for more cleaning and washing.

Loris and Lynn skimmed through the recordings of the Tussle. “This will go down in history as one of our most prolonged and nastiest fights,” said Lynn.

“Yes, it will. And it will make us a bunch of money on the Dark Web and DVD sales,” replied Lori.

“Do you feel guilty making money off this attempt of mutual destruction?”

“No, Lynn. They asked for it. If they did not fight here, both would probably be in jail or missing eyeballs and nipples.”

Lynn shut down the recordings.

“Let’s check on our combatants and then spend some time together. Fights can be erotic, but this became just brutal.”

Lori kissed and caressed her Co-CEO and lover.

“Come on. You can have your husband join in also.”

News spread about the Tussle, and the recording became a best seller. There was some undercurrent commentary about a rematch. Then legal representatives of Julie and Stacy began a conversation about appearing together, almost an act, to promote the film/DVD. There was no robust Playboy Enterprise to interfere, even if it wanted. After all, sales of all the DVDs and magazines with the two PMOYs would increase also.

Then other Playboy and Penthouse former Playmates and Pets contacted the Foundation about Tussles. Thus, Pandora's Box was opened even wider. It was an understatement that Lynn and Lori did not rue the day they accepted these more public personas for fights.

The free-market system rules entertainment, which would cause Lori and Lynn many headaches.