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« on: April 19, 2025, 04:07:40 am »Match 1 Build-Up:
Ariel Winter 34C vs. Cree Cicchino 34B
Ariel Winter (Wicked Queens) vs. Cree Cicchino (Wannabees)
Early Lass Vegas Odds:
It all started with Cree Cicchino’s big mouth. The pint-sized but loud-mouthed starlet from the Wannabees stable wasn’t just talking trash—she was launching a full-on offensive against the older, bustier Barbies. During a livestream with her fellow Wannabees, Cree made a sarcastic remark that set everything in motion:
"Yeah, we get it. They’re older, they’re bigger, and they think that means they’re better. But real fighters don’t need flotation devices to win. I’ve got just enough up top to whip every one of them—especially Ariel Winter. Big boobs and absolutely no bite left in heer saggy sacks."</blockquote></blockquote> What she didn’t know was that the Badass Barbies were mid-interview at their locker room in Calabassas, sipping champagne and flaunting their cleavage for a fashion shoot. The moment Kylie Jenner heard Cree’s name, she laughed and said:
"Cree who? That little B-cup brat? She’s lucky I’m not in this thing. If she steps into the ring with Ariel, she’ll get squashed by a pair of real woman’s breasts." The camera crew laughed, but the feed accidentally went live to the Barbies’ Instagram, and within minutes, the clip went viral. Hashtags exploded:
#BigBoobEnergy
#BitterBitties
#SmotherTheWannabees
#BiggerisAlwaysBetter
The internet was split—those siding with the feisty Wannabees for their underdog spirit, and others rooting for the busty Barbies/Wicked Queens and their elite, curvy roster.
Fighter Breakdown Ariel Winter – "The Chest Queen"
Ariel also has the backing of Natalie Alyn Lind and Kylie Jenner, which gives her access to the best training facility in the UCC: the Barbies' private gym known as "The Dollhouse."
She’s been training with weighted nipple clamps, ice resistance rounds, and specialized uppercut drills utilizing her strong pectoral muscles.—every part of her chest has been battle-hardened for this exact match. She’s even cut her diet and tightened up her chest and shoulder muscles, giving her breasts added firmness and bounce.
Ariel on IG: "You started this, little girl. I’m gonna finish it. I’m not here to talk—I’m here to crush."
Cree Cicchino – "The Mighty Mouth"
Her confidence borders on delusion—or genius marketing. Either way, she’s captured the hearts of the anti-Barbie movement.
Cree on TikTok:
"You really think some saggy D-cup’s gonna beat me? B is for Bruiser, baby. Ariel’s never had anyone fight back with speed. She’s gonna get stabbed, poked, raked, and dropped. I’m gonna invert those crusty old nipples and flatten those milk jugs like pancakes."Cree's been training by smacking punching bags with padded cups strapped to her chest and practicing rapid-fire "nip stabs" against pressure pads. She’s fast, agile, and uses her smaller frame to her advantage—less surface area means less to target, and harder to pin down.
The Psychological Warfare
In the days leading up to the fight, both women took to social media with a flood of memes, training footage, and trash talk.
Cree posted a challenge video:
A slow-mo walk toward the camera in a white sports bra, smirking:
"I’m walking into that ring in a B-cup... and walking out with a D-cup’s pride in my back pocket."
Ariel clapped back with a video of her putting on gloves over her breasts, dipping them into ice water, then flexing her chest muscles:
"These aren’t pillows, sweetheart. These are **** wrecking balls. And I’m gonna bury you under them."
Kylie Jenner even chimed in with a cheeky tweet:
"We are so glad to have Ariel on our side. Watching her prepare has been wild. Let’s just say Cree should enjoy breathing now—'cause she won’t be doing much of it when Ariel’s done with her. #SmotherSeason
Vegas Takes Notice:
The betting lines opened and were quickly flooded. Most gamblers saw Ariel as the heavy favorite due to size and experience, but Cree’s mouth drew attention, especially from younger bettors on social media who saw her as a confident dark horse.
Updated Vegas Odds:
Ariel Winter -150 (Bet $150 to win $100)
Cree Cicchino +110 (Bet $100 to win $110)</blockquote> <blockquote>Prop Bets:</blockquote>
The hype is massive. The arena is sold out. Social media is ablaze. And these two women are ready to strip off their tops and go chest-to-chest in a battle that’s more personal than anyone could’ve expected.
Cree has the speed and the mouth. Ariel has the mass and the muscle. This won’t just be the first match—it will set the tone for the entire tournament.
One thing’s for sure: when these two lock nipples in the center of the ring
Only one rack will reign supreme.
Ariel vs. Cree Round 1 Nipple Battle
The crowd was electric as the spotlight shifted to the first official match of the Breast-Only Combat Tournament. The energy inside the private arena was thick with anticipation. Fans, fighters, and team leaders from the Badass Barbies, the Wicked Queens, and the Wannabees surrounded the raised fighting riing, each ready to witness the opening clash of what was expected to be the most brutal and intimate combat sport ever conceived.
At center stage stood Ariel Winter, representing the Wicked Queens. She was calm, confident, and composed. Her expression was serene, even smug, as she reached back and slowly unhooked her black lace bra, letting her full D-cups swing free with a gentle but firm bounce. Gasps and cheers erupted as the spotlight hit her bare chest. Her large, soft breasts glistened under the lights, her nipples already stiff with anticipation, tinged pink with pride.
Ariel gave a small, cocky smirk. She looked across the ring at her opponent, Cree Cicchino of the Wannabees. The younger, leaner fighter was bouncing on her toes, jawing non-stop, her trash talk sharp and cutting.
"Hope those big udders are ready to get flattened, you over-hyped cow," Cree sneered.
The crowd let out a mixture of laughter and oooohs.
Ariel didn’t respond, just smiled. She was above it. Or so she thought.
Cree’s toned, petite frame looked deceptively non-threatening, but her nipples were a different story. Hard as diamonds and jetting out like daggers, the result of a brutal ice treatment that had her team rubbing her down for nearly ten minutes before the bell. Her nipples were smaller than Ariel’s, but packed with tension and menace. She strutted forward ****, grinning wide and wicked.
The ref, standing between them, checked both women, then gave the signal.
"Step up."
The fighters closed the gap until their nipples were mere inches apart. The heat between them was electric.
Cree leaned in, eyes narrowed, and hissed, "Let’s see if those fat **** of yours can even survive five minutes. I doubt it."
Ariel didn’t flinch, but her nipples tensed as she pulled her shoulders back and tensed her pectoral muscles. She was ready.
"FIGHT!"
The bell rang.
Round 1 had begun.
The two fighters advanced, breasts forward, shoulders back, torsos held taut. Their stiffened nipples connected with a soft but audible tap. Both women flinched instinctively—no matter how prepared, the first contact always sent a shock through the nerves.
They began circling slowly, locking eyes, torsos undulating slightly as each woman sought a dominant angle. The first exchanges were sharp and mutual. Ariel jabbed her left breast forward, catching Cree on the right nipple. Cree hissed, then snapped back with a diagonal rake that scraped across Ariel’s areola. Ariel winced but recovered fast, rotating her shoulders and landing a thudding jab with her right.
The crowd roared as the fighters began exchanging rapid nipple rakes and stabs. The contact was fast, brutal, and rhythmic—like a sadistic dance. Neither gave ground initially.
But soon, things began to shift.
Cree’s ice-hardened nipples maintained their full, terrifying stiffness. Ariel’s, under the intense friction and pain, were starting to lose firmness. She knew it. Cree knew it.
"What’s wrong? Your not getting soft on me already?" Cree taunted.
She rolled her shoulders and suddenly lunged forward, delivering a brutal rake across both of Ariel’s nipples. Ariel gasped and stumbled back.
Cree grinned wide. "That’s right. Run, b!tch. You feel that burn? That’s me owning your t!ts."
Ariel backed up again, chest heaving, nipples tender and pink from repeated strikes. Cree advanced, relentless, precise.
She drove forward, shoulders rotating, nipples lashing out like tiny whips. Ariel tried to respond but couldn’t get her rhythm. Her confidence was cracking. She grimaced through clenched teeth as Cree’s right nipple poked deep into her left areola, leaving a red mark.
Another rake. Then another.
But Cree wasn’t done. She leaned back for a moment, cocking her shoulders like a predator, then lunged forward with a wicked twist—dragging her rock-hard nipples across Ariel’s chest in a crisscross pattern, forming a vicious "X" of pain across Ariel’s already battered breasts.
Ariel screamed, staggering to the side, arms flailing.
"OMG!" Ariel screamed in agony, the sharp sting of Cree’s ice-tipped nipples leaving a searing trail of fire across her skin.
"Let me draw it for you," Cree hissed, her voice low and cruel. She pressed back in and etched a slow, deliberate “Z” across Ariel’s cleavage with three savage diagonal rakes—first downward right, then back up to the left, then down again, forming a blazing Zorro slash of red welts that crossed over Ariel’s tender mounds.
Ariel’s legs buckled, and she almost dropped to one knee, her breath caught in short, panicked gasps.
Cree towered over her, eyes blazing. "You feel that, princess? That’s me branding you."
Ariel looked up, eyes glassy, mouth open in pain. Her red, welted breasts throbbed with each heartbeat, sweat rolling down her heaving cleavage.
Cree surged forward and slammed chest-to-chest. Ariel tried to hold ground, but Cree angled her shoulders perfectly and pinned Ariel’s right nipple flat against her chest, twisting it cruelly with her hardened point.
Ariel whimpered, too stunned to cry out again. Cree leaned in, her lips brushing Ariel’s ear.
"This isn’t a fight anymore," she whispered. "It’s a lesson."
"There it is," Cree growled, pressing harder. "Feel that? Right there. That’s your nipple losing."
Ariel whimpered, trying to twist out, but Cree rotated again and flattened both of Ariel’s nipples in a cruel double press.
Ariel’s eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath as she was pushed until her back was pressed against the ropes.
The pain was immense. Her tender nipples were being crushed. Her strength was failing.
Cree didn’t let up.
"Come on, you chubby crybaby. I want you to remember what it felt like when your little princess nips got pinnned."
The ref leaned in. The pin was solid.
"ONE!"
Ariel shook her head, teeth clenched, trying to fight through.
"TWO!"
Tears welled in her eyes. She gasped again. Cree leaned forward using her weight to pin Ariel's nipples tight. So tight that they slowly started to invert.
"STOP! STOP!"
The ref instantly waved it off.
"SUBMISSION! ROUND ONE GOES TO CREE CICCHINO!"
The crowd erupted. Cree stepped back, raising her arms in victory, her nipples still diamond-hard and triumphant.
Ariel collapsed to her knees, holding her chest, tears running down her flushed cheeks while her breasts were streaked with red welts. Kylie Jenner and Natalie Alyn Lind rushed to her side from the Wicked Queens’ corner, helping her up and shielding her from the cheering crowd.
Cree turned to the crowd, arms wide, laughing.
"That’s right! One down! Big boobs, little heart! Way too easy!"
The Wannabees were on their feet, chanting her name.
Ariel Winter slumped on her stool, shaking. Her face was buried on Natalie Alyn Lind’s shoulder, tears slipping silently down her cheeks as she tried to steady her breathing. The pain radiating through her chest was impossible to ignore—her breasts were a mess. Red, scratched, stinging. Her nipples throbbed, raw and swollen from Cree’s ruthless raking.
She hadn’t seen it coming. Not like this.
Natalie crouched beside her, gripping her arms tightly, eyes wide with disbelief.
“What the hell was that?” Natalie demanded, scanning Ariel’s battered chest with a mix of fury and concern.
Ariel turned away, her cheeks burning with shame. She couldn’t meet Natalie’s gaze.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “They’re doing something... I don’t know what it is.” She paused, choking on the words as her lips trembled. “Her nipples… it was like they were ice picks. I couldn’t breathe. They just—cut right through me. Like razors.”
Natalie’s brows furrowed, her grip on Ariel tightening. “Obviously they iced her down. You think they tried something else?”
Ariel gave a small nod, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what they did, but it wasn’t normal. That pain... it felt like cheating.”
Natalie took a breath, calming herself. “Look at me,” she said, lifting Ariel’s chin gently. “None of that matters now. She caught you off guard. That’s not happening again.”
Ariel’s breath hitched. Then steadied.
Natalie leaned in, voice sharp with confidence. “Now get out there and flatten that big-mouthed little b!tch.”
Ariel clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening. She nodded slowly, her pain now forged into something harder. Fiercer.
“She’s mine,” she growled.
And as the bell neared, Ariel stood—hurt, but far from done.
Cree Cicchino strutted back to her corner, hips swaying, chest thrust out proudly as the crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps. She turned, blew a mocking kiss toward the stunned audience, then smirked back over her shoulder.
“I hope the next round’s quicker,” she taunted, loud enough for Ariel to hear. “These nipples don’t play around.”
Jayden Bartels leaned in from ringside, her grin stretching ear to ear. “You got her now,” she purred. “She’s rattled. You own those big air bags.”
Cree grabbed a towel, casually dabbing at the light sheen of sweat between her breasts. “She’s mine,” she said coolly, eyes still locked on Ariel’s broken posture. “But I’m not done yet.”
Jayden raised a brow. “You going for the kill?”
Cree chuckled, her voice low and wicked. “Oh no. Not yet. I want her to feel it. To know it’s coming. I’m gonna use her as an example for the rest of the plastics.”
She leaned back in her corner, arms resting on the ropes, her tone dripping venom.
“I want to break her first. Really break her. Then I’ll put Ariel down for good… and out of her misery.”
A flash of cruel delight sparked in her eyes. Cree wasn’t just going to win.
She was going to make Ariel suffer.
Round 2 - Breast Striking
Ariel sat hunched forward on her stool, taking in gulps of air as the adrenaline faded and the throbbing pain in her chest returned with a vengeance. Only three minutes to recover between rounds wasn’t enough. Natalie was already at her side, pressing a fresh pack of ice to Ariel's aching breasts. Ariel winced and pushed her away.
"You need this, Ariel," Natalie said firmly. "It'll numb the pain."
"I said I'm fine," Ariel muttered through clenched teeth.
Kylie leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "You’re bigger than her. Use it. Smash her flat. She can't handle your weight. Your mass. Use it."
Ariel gave a slow nod. She'd been in a lot of brutal fights before. She knew how fast things could change. Losing the first round didn’t mean defeat. But winning the second? That could shift everything
She rose from her stool with determination, her pink breasts swaying with each step. The D-cups were still red from Cree's raking attacks, but Ariel's eyes were locked on the smaller girl across the ring.
Cree, on the other hand, was all energy and ego. She strutted in place, practically bouncing on her toes. Her pert B-cups barely moved as she warmed up, light and ready.
Jayden was in her ear, trying to keep her grounded. "Don’t get cocky, Cree. That was a great round, but she’s still got the size. Ariel’s going to come hard this round."
Darci joined in, quick and tactical. "Stay away from her. Jab, poke, and back off. Make her work. She's slow. She’s sore. You're faster, lighter. Use it."
Cree nodded with a grin. "I got this."
She glanced across the ring and mimed wiping away tears. Ariel gave her nothing back, just slow, measured breaths. The bruises were still fresh, the pain radiating, but she was focused. All business.
"Ready, Elsie?" Cree teased. "Are you done crying now? Get ready to get flattened?"
Ariel didn't respond.
Cree stepped closer looking directly at the damage she caused, her lips curling into a smirk. "Oh my! I didn’t realize how badly your boobs got owned. I'll go easy on you—at first."
Ariel’s nostrils flared as she stared her down unable to take another taunt. "This isn’t over, little girl. Time to show you what a real woman feels like."
Cree laughed. "So Miss Piggy has a tongue."
Both girls planted their hands on their hips and stepped into each other. Cree's firm B-cups pressed into Ariel's larger D-cups. Ariel felt her breasts yield slightly under the pressure.
Cree smirked again.
The ref yelled, "FIGHT!"
Cree sprang into motion, light on her feet and brimming with energy. She darted in, poking quick jabs and short crosses, landing precise strikes on Ariel's chest. Ariel tried to counter with heavy swings, but Cree was too fast, leaning back and dancing out of range.
Ariel grunted with frustration. Cree was landing more shots, but they weren’t hard. They were surgical. They stung. And they were scoring.
Cree circled with unending motion, her feet never still. Ariel was heavier, more stationary, her body working hard just to pivot and turn. Her back foot was slipping with each deep breath as she tried to keep up with Cree's torrid pace.
Three minutes into the round, Ariel had yet to land anything meaningful and she could feel the round slipping away.
"Come on, you little b!tch! Quit running and fight me!" Ariel snarled.
The ref motioned at Cree. "Engage."
Ariel steadied herself.
Cree danced forward.
BAM!
Ariel unleashed a looping arching right that caught Cree’s breasts full on. The smaller girl staggered back, shocked by the sudden force.
Ariel seized the moment. As soon as Cree planted her back foot to regain balance, Ariel came under with a thunderous uppercut.
Cree reeled from the crushing blow. Her smirk was gone, replaced by clenched teeth.
Cree responded with two quick shots that found Ariel's ribs and breast, but Ariel barely flinched. With a roar, she unleashed another swiping side swing that sent Cree stumbling.
Momentum shifted.
Cree tried to bob in, jab, then dart away, but Ariel had her timing now.
Then Cree stepped too close and Ariel dropped the hammer.
Her massive D-cups smashed down from above, catching the top of Cree's breasts. The impact flattened them downward with brutal force. Cree gasped, her chest convulsing in pain, eyes wide with shock.
But Ariel wasn’t done.
She stepped in, planting her feet like a prizefighter and launched into a savage breast barrage. Her left breast shot forward—SMACK!—catching Cree square on the sternum. Before Cree could even stumble back, Ariel followed up with a brutal right—WHAP!—that sent Cree backpedaling.
"Let’s see how you like it now, wh0re!" Ariel snarled, driving forward, throwing stiff, piston-like breast shots—left, right, left again—each one thudding into Cree’s chest like a sledgehammer.
Cree’s body jerked with every impact, arms instinctively trying to cover, but Ariel was too fast, too furious. Her technique was tight, crisp—straight lungees with her breasts, each strike landing with maximum torque and precision.
Another left rocked Cree’s right breast. A follow-up right slammed into her left, crushing the soft mound inward and making her grunt.
Cree was staggering, legs trembling, completely on the defensive.
Ariel stayed on her, relentless, driving her back step by step until Cree’s back hit the ropes with a jolt.
"You’re on the ropes now, big shot," Ariel hissed through gritted teeth, chest glistening, breathing hard but steady. "Time to finish what you started."
Then, with a fierce twist of her hips, Ariel unleashed devastation—her right D-cup arcing forward like a cannonball fired point-blank.
CRACK!
The massive breast slammed into Cree’s chest with bone-jarring force, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The shockwave lifted Cree clean off the mat—airborne for a heartbeat—before gravity yanked her back down.
She crashed to the canvas in a violent sprawl, arms flung wide, legs twisted, her eyes fluttering in stunned disbelief as her body skidded to a stop.
Cree wasn’t just down. She was wrecked.
The crowd erupted.
The bell rang.
Cree tried to rise, not realizing the round was over. She stumbled forward then tripped over her own feet and collapsed face-first, arms and legs sprawled still dazed.
Ariel raised her hands in triumph.
Natalie rushed in and hugged her tight.
Across the ring, Jayden and Darci scrambled to help Cree up and back to her stool. The younger fighter blinked, glassy-eyed.
Jayden looked her over. "You okay, Cree?"
Cree gave a weak nod, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.
“They're like bags of wet sand.
Round Two had ended—but everything had changed.
The score was even.
But the balance of power had flipped.
Ariel stood tall in the center of the ring, titst rising and falling with calm, controlled breaths. Her back was straight, chin high, eyes locked on her opponent. The pain she’d taken? Forgotten. Replaced by fire.
Across from her, Cree looked like a storm-hit wreck. Her body was hunched over, arms limp at her sides, her chest glowing red and throbbing with every breath. Her legs wobbled beneath her. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, as if she were still trying to figure out what had just hit her—and how hard.
The round was over… but the fight was nowhere near finished.
And now, it was a different war—one Ariel intended to win on her terms.
The hunter and the hunted had switched places.
And Cree knew it.
Round 3:
Momentum may have shifted to Ariel at the end of Round 2, but Cree Cicchino wasn’t backing down—not yet. As Jayden and Darci worked quickly in her corner, Cree winced and clutched her aching chest. Her pert B-cups throbbed, still stinging from the crushing end of the last round. Yet her eyes were laser focused.
"You OK, Cree?" Jayden asked, crouched in close.
Cree nodded weakly. "Yeah. They're throbbing right now but I just need a minute."
Darci leaned in next. "Ariel is bigger and stronger, but you're firmer. She’s going to try and flatten you again, but you’ve got strength where it counts. Lock your hands behind her back and dig in with your thumbs, low, in the small of her back. Trust me—her back will seize up. You just need to outlast her."
Cree nodded again. She had cardio on her side, and if she could just keep the pressure on Ariel’s weaknesses, she had a shot. She wasn’t ready to lose.
Across the ring, Ariel Winter was still gulping air, her chest rising and falling heavily. Natalie Alyn Lind knelt beside her, rubbing ice along the sides of her breasts.
Ariel swatted her away. "I don’t need it. I’ll flatten that little twerp."
Natalie grinned. "Then go crush her."
The bell rang. Both corners erupted.
The two fighters met dead center in the ring, locking hands like magnets pulled by fury. Ariel’s arms swept behind Cree’s back, wrists locking tight. But Cree responded instantly—going low, her arms wrapping around the small of Ariel’s back, thumbs pressing with pinpoint precision into right above the tail bone
"Nghhh," Ariel grunted, muscles tensing.
They squeezed into one another, torsos mashed tight, shoulders rotating violently. Ariel’s larger D-cup breasts encompassed Cree’s pert rack completely, pressing the smaller girl into her orbit, but Cree held her ground, groaning under the weight, yet pushing back. They were cheek to cheek, arms trembling.
Cree leaned in and hissed in Ariel’s ear.
"Feel that? That’s your big saggy breasts breaking down."
Ariel winced, her eyes fluttering as Cree pushed upward with surprising strength. Despite Ariel’s clear size advantage, Cree’s tighter frame and low leverage were taking a toll, driving hard beneath her with relentless pressure.
Ariel gasped, the pressure under her chest relentless, her body trembling from the strain. Cree’s positioning was brutal—strategic and unyielding as her nipples poked holes into Ariel's soft flesh.
"What’s the matter, big girl?" Cree taunted, her breath hot with adrenaline. "You can always give up. Just say the word and your nightmare will be over."
But Ariel had had enough. She bent her knees, summoned her core strength, and lifted. Cree’s feet left the mat entirely, legs dangling as Ariel hoisted her like a ragdoll.
Cree gasped, then yelped as Ariel shook her wildly, causing her body to whip side to side. The crowd erupted. But even mid-air, Cree stayed with the plan. Her thumbs drilled deeper into Ariel’s back, finding the nerve cluster Darci had told her about.
Pain lanced through Ariel. Her spine arched, and her knees trembled.
"Gahh—dammit!"
Ariel had to let her down.
The second Cree touched the mat, she swept her leg behind Ariel’s calf and drove forward. Ariel stumbled, off-balance—and then they crashed to the canvas in a heap.
Cree’s slender frame landed squarely atop Ariel’s torso. The impact slammed the breath from Ariel’s lungs while her breasts took the brunt of the impact almost sliding up into her face as Cree's body slid forward.
The ref rushed in and separated them. Cree staggered back to her corner, arms up, breathing hard. Ariel remained curled on her side, gasping like a fish out of water.
The count began.
1…
2…
3…
Natalie was screaming from the ropes. "Get up, Ariel! Get the **** up!"
4…
5…
Ariel’s chest heaved.
6…
7…
She grabbed the ropes.
8…
She pulled herself up. Just barely.
The ref signaled them back in. Cree came charging in, locking up again. Her thumbs immediately dug low again—but this time, Ariel had a plan.
She surged forward, arms wrapping tight around Cree’s ribs. She squeezed.
Cree screamed.
Ariel was using her size now—turning the tide again. Her arms dug in, crushing ribs and flattening Cree’s sides. Cree’s grip loosened. Ariel leaned back, adjusted her position.
And then gravity did the rest.
Ariel’s massive breasts settled on top of Cree’s smaller chest. The difference in mass was devastating. Cree's B-cups were squashed beneath the weight, pressed painfully flat against her ribs.
"How’s that feel, little girl?" Ariel hissed. "Tap out, and maybe you’ll wear a bra again someday."
Cree was defiant. Through clenched teeth: "N… Never."
But her face was contorting in pain.
Ariel lifted her slightly, giving her a cruel moment of hope—then slammed her back down, letting her heavy chest drop onto Cree's once again. Cree shrieked, her feet kicking uselessly behind her.
The repeated compression was brutal. Ariel was in full control, her confidence back. With every drop, Cree’s resistance wilted a bit more.
"You’re breaking," Ariel whispered.
Cree whimpered. Her arms weakening by the second.
Natalie screamed from ringside. "End it, Ariel! Flatten her out!"
Ariel grinned, eyes locked on her rival’s tear-streaked face. She hoisted Cree one more time… then launched forward.
Both fighters flew into the air.
The slam was catastrophic.
134 pounds of Ariel Winter came crashing down atop Cree with all the momentum of a finishing move.
The canvas shook.
The crowd gasped.
And Cree didn’t move.
She lay motionless, limbs splayed, breasts flattened, eyes glazed over.
The ref didn’t even count. He waved it off.
The fight was over.
Ariel rolled off, gasping but triumphant. Natalie rushed in and hugged her.
"Way to smash that little big mouth," Natalie grinned. "She deserved it."
Ariel was too winded to speak. She knelt there, chest heaving, drenched in sweat, breasts reddened, scratched, and sore—but victorious.
Jayden and Darci were at Cree’s side now, fanning her, wiping the sweat from hr face. She was slowly waking up, blinking through the haze but unable to get up on her own.
Ariel glanced over.
"Just wait until she wakes up," she muttered. "She’ll never forget what real power feels like."
The medics helped Cree to a seated position. She was conscious but couldn’t stand. Her eyes were puffy, her lips parted in disbelief. Her once firm breasts were hanging low on her chest and were covered in bruises and welts.
Darci wrapped a towel around her.
"You fought hard, Cree. But she was just too much."
Too much weight. Too much power. Too much Ariel.
Cree nodded slowly. "f$ck her!"
Round 3—and the fight—belonged to Ariel Winter.
Post-Fight: The Humiliation of Cree Cicchino
Ariel sat on her knees, chest still rising and falling from the exhausting war she just survived. Her arms hung heavy, but the triumphant fire in her eyes was unmistakable
.
Cree began to stir. The medics had just backed off, confirming she wasn’t seriously injured—at least not physically. Jayden Bartels tried to protect her young brash fighter, but Ariel pushed in, giving her a firm shove.
"Back off," Ariel said flatly, her tone making Jayden pause mid-step. "Unless you want to take her place."
Jayden looked torn, but she knew better than to provoke Ariel now. This wasn’t a fight anymore—this was something else. Something personal. Something earned
Ariel knelt beside Cree and gave her a few light slaps to the cheek. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to bring her back. "Wake up, princess," Ariel cooed mockingly. "Your curtain call’s not over yet."
Cree’s eyes fluttered open, confusion written across her face—until she saw Ariel looming over her. Her face twisted in frustration and realization, then shame.
"Wha… what are you—?" Cree muttered, dazed and weak.
Ariel grabbed her by the wrist and hair, dragging her up to her knees. "You had so much to say before the fight. All those jokes. All that trash talk. Now what?" she growled, bending down until they were eye to eye.
Cree didn’t respond. She was breathing heavily, her mouth open as if trying to form a comeback. But the words weren’t there. She was beaten—badly—and she knew it.
Ariel reached out and flicked one of Cree’s damp bangs from her face. "I’ve been on the losing end before," she whispered. "I know how it feels. But see, I’ve mostly own girls like you. And I never forget a loudmouth."
With calm, deliberate confidence, Ariel stepped forward and grabbed Cree by her damp hair. She hauled her up just enough, then slipped a leg in and guided the defeated brunette over her knee—not violently, but with the commanding authority of someone who had earned every right to do it. The audience gasped as Cree gave a startled cry, her body folding over Ariel’s thigh in an almost symbolic act of surrender.
“You talked big,” Ariel said low enough for only Cree—and the front row—to hear, “but in the end, your little bittie titties couldn’t back it up.”
Cree tried to wriggle free, but Ariel calmly pressed a palm to her back, holding her down with firm, measured control. The audience watched in stunned silence, unsure of what was coming next.
Then, with a smirk, Ariel reached down and tugged at the waistband of Cree’s thong, twisting the fabric tight. The sharp motion pulled a yelp from Cree as she squirmed, humiliated, the discomfort of the wedgie clear on her face. Ariel gave the garment one last tug before the tension finally snapped it with a dramatic rip. She held the ruined piece of fabric high above her head, twirled it like a trophy, then launched it toward Jayden, who caught it with a stunned look.
The arena roared.
Ariel wasn’t done.
She raised her right hand slowly, fingers spread, letting the tension build. The crowd quieted, holding its collective breath.
Then—
SMACK.
The sound of Ariel's palm landing on Cree's tight butt cheek echoed through the venue like a gunshot. Cree jolted.
“ONE!” the crowd shouted.
SMACK.
“TWO!”
Each crisp slap of Ariel’s palm was met with an even louder count from the fans. Ariel remained stone-faced, each spank a punctuation mark in her total dominance.
“THREE!”
“FOUR!”
“FIVE!”
By the time the crowd reached “TEN!”, Cree’s cheeks were flushed bright red with a few clearly defined hand prints etched on her round cheeks. Cree's pride was bruised as was her body. Ariel let her hand rest for a beat gently tracing the contours of Cree's warm cheeks, then gently slid the brunette off her knee, letting her slump to the canvas in a heap.
The arena exploded in cheers as Ariel stood tall, towering over her fallen foe, chest heaving and jaw set in victory.
If Cree Cicchino—or any of the cocky Wannabee fans—thought the worst was over, they were dead wrong.
Ariel Winter wasn’t done. Not even close.
Victory alone wasn’t enough. Not after the trash talk. Not after the smug smirks. Not after Cree’s endless needling.
Ariel wanted more than a win—she wanted finality.
She wanted Cree to remember exactly who broke her.
The woman who beat her down.
The woman whose breasts had conquered hers.
And reigned without mercy.
Without a word, Ariel used her boot to gently roll the groaning brunette onto her back. Cree barely stirred, arms sprawled, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Ariel stood tall over her, her shadow casting a long, ominous silhouette.
Then, with the precision of a fighter and the flair of a performer, Ariel bent her knees and dropped—landing with full weight of her booty across Cree’s stomach. The impact drove the air from Cree’s lungs with a loud, pitiful gasp, her legs jolting up as her torso jackknifed beneath the crushing force.
The crowd winced at the brutality. Ariel didn’t move.
Instead, she bounced once.
Then again.
Each time, Cree let out a choked wheeze, too weak to fight back.
Ariel finally reached forward, grabbing Cree’s wrists and pinning them above her head, locking her down completely. The visual was stunning—one woman utterly dominant, the other broken beneath her.
Ariel leaned in, her massive breasts pressing forward, shadows shifting as her toned frame lowered closer and closer to Cree’s panicked, wide-eyed face.
“Still feeling tough?” Ariel whispered. “Still think you can talk your way out of this?”
Cree shook her head, defiant but trembling. She clenched her jaw, trying to find courage, but her strength was spent.
Ariel smirked. Then, in a taunting rhythm, she rolled her shoulders side to side, letting the motion sway her D-cups over her rival—slow, methodical, and merciless. The motion became deliberate, theatrical, each movement building tension in the air.
Then—
SLAP.
SLAP.
The sound of impact echoed through the arena—not fists, but the sheer audacity of the humiliating dominance of one woman's breasts slapping the remaining fight from another. Cree’s head snapped side to side from the contact, her body twitching beneath Ariel’s weight.
SLAP.
SLAP.
By the tenth strike, Cree’s eyes were fluttering, rolling back as the breast slaps simply overwhelmed her. Her arms were pinned, her body trapped, and her will to resist shattered.
Ariel leaned down, face inches from her foe, and said just loud enough for the front row to hear:
“You’ve officially tasted defeat, sweetheart.”
The crowd roared, some cheering, others stunned into silence by the ruthless display of one woman stealing the fighting spirit from another.
Ariel Winter had toyed with Cree long enough. The crowd knew it. So did Cree.
Now it was time to make a statement.
Cree lay beneath her, dazed and breathless, her body quivering from the punishing barrage. Ariel looked down at the once-defiant "Wannabee" and narrowed her eyes. She was done playing. She was here to finish it.
With deliberate confidence, Ariel leaned forward—and dropped the hammer.
Cree’s eyes widened as Ariel’s powerful chest descended, blotting out the bright overhead lights. It was the last thing she saw before her world went dark. Ariel’s curves enveloped Cree’s face, smothering any remaining fight. There was no room to squirm, no way to breathe. It wasn’t flashy—it was final.
Ariel didn’t need tricks or theatrics. She didn’t need to tighten the hold or bring her elbows in tight. She had more than enough up top to finish this on her terms.
Seconds passed. Cree’s legs gave a weak twitch, her toes ever so faintly wiggled but her arms didn’t rise. Her resistance faded quickly, smothered beneath Ariel’s overwhelming dominance. Her body spasmed then went still, her breath no longer escaping hr lips.
The referee stepped in and gave Ariel a firm tap on the shoulder.
“Time's up, Ariel. Gt off of her.”
Ariel slowly lifted herself, standing tall and composed, victorious in every sense of the word. She looked down at the motionless body of Cree Cicchino, utterly silenced, utterly broken.
The crowd roared.
Ariel Winter hadn’t just won.
She ruled.
Natalie Alyn Lind stepped between the ropes, clapping slowly, her face beaming with approval.
“That,” she said, placing a hand on Ariel’s shoulder, “is how you silence a loudmouth.”
Ariel didn’t reply right away. She looked down at Cree, who was lying there motionless, humiliated, and broken in front of thousands.
“Let this be a reminder,” Ariel said at last, her voice loud and clear for the whole arena to hear. “Little big mouths write checks their bodies can’t cash.”
Ariel looked over at the Wannabee's and flipped them off.
Jayden had to be held back by her teammates, fury burning in her eyes.
“You crossed the line, Winters! You think this is over? When we come back, it’s hitting you ten times harder.”
Ariel and Natalie just laughed, tossing a smug glance over their shoulders as they strolled out of the ring without a care in the world.
Ariel Winter wins by 3rd round breast slam takedown
Team Badass Barbies-Wicked Queens 1 - The Wannabees 0
Witten by the Badass Barbies
Ariel Winter 34C vs. Cree Cicchino 34B
Ariel Winter (Wicked Queens) vs. Cree Cicchino (Wannabees)
Early Lass Vegas Odds:
- Ariel Winter: -350 Favorite
- Cree Cicchino: +275 Underdog
It all started with Cree Cicchino’s big mouth. The pint-sized but loud-mouthed starlet from the Wannabees stable wasn’t just talking trash—she was launching a full-on offensive against the older, bustier Barbies. During a livestream with her fellow Wannabees, Cree made a sarcastic remark that set everything in motion:
"Yeah, we get it. They’re older, they’re bigger, and they think that means they’re better. But real fighters don’t need flotation devices to win. I’ve got just enough up top to whip every one of them—especially Ariel Winter. Big boobs and absolutely no bite left in heer saggy sacks."</blockquote></blockquote> What she didn’t know was that the Badass Barbies were mid-interview at their locker room in Calabassas, sipping champagne and flaunting their cleavage for a fashion shoot. The moment Kylie Jenner heard Cree’s name, she laughed and said:
"Cree who? That little B-cup brat? She’s lucky I’m not in this thing. If she steps into the ring with Ariel, she’ll get squashed by a pair of real woman’s breasts." The camera crew laughed, but the feed accidentally went live to the Barbies’ Instagram, and within minutes, the clip went viral. Hashtags exploded:
#BigBoobEnergy
#BitterBitties
#SmotherTheWannabees
#BiggerisAlwaysBetter
The internet was split—those siding with the feisty Wannabees for their underdog spirit, and others rooting for the busty Barbies/Wicked Queens and their elite, curvy roster.
Fighter Breakdown Ariel Winter – "The Chest Queen"
- Age: 27
- Stable: Wicked Queens
- Bust Size: 34D
- Height: 5'1”
- Strengths: Massive chest, experience, raw crushing power
- Weaknesses: Slightly slower reflexes and slow recovery
Ariel also has the backing of Natalie Alyn Lind and Kylie Jenner, which gives her access to the best training facility in the UCC: the Barbies' private gym known as "The Dollhouse."
She’s been training with weighted nipple clamps, ice resistance rounds, and specialized uppercut drills utilizing her strong pectoral muscles.—every part of her chest has been battle-hardened for this exact match. She’s even cut her diet and tightened up her chest and shoulder muscles, giving her breasts added firmness and bounce.
Ariel on IG: "You started this, little girl. I’m gonna finish it. I’m not here to talk—I’m here to crush."
Cree Cicchino – "The Mighty Mouth"
- Age: 22
- Stable: Wannabees
- Bust Size: 34B
- Height: 5'2”
- Strengths: Speed, tenacity, trash talk, unwavering confidence
- Weaknesses: Smaller breasts, inexperience
Her confidence borders on delusion—or genius marketing. Either way, she’s captured the hearts of the anti-Barbie movement.
Cree on TikTok:
"You really think some saggy D-cup’s gonna beat me? B is for Bruiser, baby. Ariel’s never had anyone fight back with speed. She’s gonna get stabbed, poked, raked, and dropped. I’m gonna invert those crusty old nipples and flatten those milk jugs like pancakes."Cree's been training by smacking punching bags with padded cups strapped to her chest and practicing rapid-fire "nip stabs" against pressure pads. She’s fast, agile, and uses her smaller frame to her advantage—less surface area means less to target, and harder to pin down.
The Psychological Warfare
In the days leading up to the fight, both women took to social media with a flood of memes, training footage, and trash talk.
Cree posted a challenge video:
A slow-mo walk toward the camera in a white sports bra, smirking:
"I’m walking into that ring in a B-cup... and walking out with a D-cup’s pride in my back pocket."
Ariel clapped back with a video of her putting on gloves over her breasts, dipping them into ice water, then flexing her chest muscles:
"These aren’t pillows, sweetheart. These are **** wrecking balls. And I’m gonna bury you under them."
Kylie Jenner even chimed in with a cheeky tweet:
"We are so glad to have Ariel on our side. Watching her prepare has been wild. Let’s just say Cree should enjoy breathing now—'cause she won’t be doing much of it when Ariel’s done with her. #SmotherSeason
Vegas Takes Notice:
The betting lines opened and were quickly flooded. Most gamblers saw Ariel as the heavy favorite due to size and experience, but Cree’s mouth drew attention, especially from younger bettors on social media who saw her as a confident dark horse.
Updated Vegas Odds:
Ariel Winter -150 (Bet $150 to win $100)
Cree Cicchino +110 (Bet $100 to win $110)</blockquote> <blockquote>Prop Bets:</blockquote>
- First nipple pin: Ariel (-180
- First knockdown: Ariel (-250
- Verbal submission time: Cree under 4:00 (+100)
- Post-fight face sit: Yes (-110
The hype is massive. The arena is sold out. Social media is ablaze. And these two women are ready to strip off their tops and go chest-to-chest in a battle that’s more personal than anyone could’ve expected.
Cree has the speed and the mouth. Ariel has the mass and the muscle. This won’t just be the first match—it will set the tone for the entire tournament.
One thing’s for sure: when these two lock nipples in the center of the ring
Only one rack will reign supreme.
Ariel vs. Cree Round 1 Nipple Battle
The crowd was electric as the spotlight shifted to the first official match of the Breast-Only Combat Tournament. The energy inside the private arena was thick with anticipation. Fans, fighters, and team leaders from the Badass Barbies, the Wicked Queens, and the Wannabees surrounded the raised fighting riing, each ready to witness the opening clash of what was expected to be the most brutal and intimate combat sport ever conceived.
At center stage stood Ariel Winter, representing the Wicked Queens. She was calm, confident, and composed. Her expression was serene, even smug, as she reached back and slowly unhooked her black lace bra, letting her full D-cups swing free with a gentle but firm bounce. Gasps and cheers erupted as the spotlight hit her bare chest. Her large, soft breasts glistened under the lights, her nipples already stiff with anticipation, tinged pink with pride.
Ariel gave a small, cocky smirk. She looked across the ring at her opponent, Cree Cicchino of the Wannabees. The younger, leaner fighter was bouncing on her toes, jawing non-stop, her trash talk sharp and cutting.
"Hope those big udders are ready to get flattened, you over-hyped cow," Cree sneered.
The crowd let out a mixture of laughter and oooohs.
Ariel didn’t respond, just smiled. She was above it. Or so she thought.
Cree’s toned, petite frame looked deceptively non-threatening, but her nipples were a different story. Hard as diamonds and jetting out like daggers, the result of a brutal ice treatment that had her team rubbing her down for nearly ten minutes before the bell. Her nipples were smaller than Ariel’s, but packed with tension and menace. She strutted forward ****, grinning wide and wicked.
The ref, standing between them, checked both women, then gave the signal.
"Step up."
The fighters closed the gap until their nipples were mere inches apart. The heat between them was electric.
Cree leaned in, eyes narrowed, and hissed, "Let’s see if those fat **** of yours can even survive five minutes. I doubt it."
Ariel didn’t flinch, but her nipples tensed as she pulled her shoulders back and tensed her pectoral muscles. She was ready.
"FIGHT!"
The bell rang.
Round 1 had begun.
The two fighters advanced, breasts forward, shoulders back, torsos held taut. Their stiffened nipples connected with a soft but audible tap. Both women flinched instinctively—no matter how prepared, the first contact always sent a shock through the nerves.
They began circling slowly, locking eyes, torsos undulating slightly as each woman sought a dominant angle. The first exchanges were sharp and mutual. Ariel jabbed her left breast forward, catching Cree on the right nipple. Cree hissed, then snapped back with a diagonal rake that scraped across Ariel’s areola. Ariel winced but recovered fast, rotating her shoulders and landing a thudding jab with her right.
The crowd roared as the fighters began exchanging rapid nipple rakes and stabs. The contact was fast, brutal, and rhythmic—like a sadistic dance. Neither gave ground initially.
But soon, things began to shift.
Cree’s ice-hardened nipples maintained their full, terrifying stiffness. Ariel’s, under the intense friction and pain, were starting to lose firmness. She knew it. Cree knew it.
"What’s wrong? Your not getting soft on me already?" Cree taunted.
She rolled her shoulders and suddenly lunged forward, delivering a brutal rake across both of Ariel’s nipples. Ariel gasped and stumbled back.
Cree grinned wide. "That’s right. Run, b!tch. You feel that burn? That’s me owning your t!ts."
Ariel backed up again, chest heaving, nipples tender and pink from repeated strikes. Cree advanced, relentless, precise.
She drove forward, shoulders rotating, nipples lashing out like tiny whips. Ariel tried to respond but couldn’t get her rhythm. Her confidence was cracking. She grimaced through clenched teeth as Cree’s right nipple poked deep into her left areola, leaving a red mark.
Another rake. Then another.
But Cree wasn’t done. She leaned back for a moment, cocking her shoulders like a predator, then lunged forward with a wicked twist—dragging her rock-hard nipples across Ariel’s chest in a crisscross pattern, forming a vicious "X" of pain across Ariel’s already battered breasts.
Ariel screamed, staggering to the side, arms flailing.
"OMG!" Ariel screamed in agony, the sharp sting of Cree’s ice-tipped nipples leaving a searing trail of fire across her skin.
"Let me draw it for you," Cree hissed, her voice low and cruel. She pressed back in and etched a slow, deliberate “Z” across Ariel’s cleavage with three savage diagonal rakes—first downward right, then back up to the left, then down again, forming a blazing Zorro slash of red welts that crossed over Ariel’s tender mounds.
Ariel’s legs buckled, and she almost dropped to one knee, her breath caught in short, panicked gasps.
Cree towered over her, eyes blazing. "You feel that, princess? That’s me branding you."
Ariel looked up, eyes glassy, mouth open in pain. Her red, welted breasts throbbed with each heartbeat, sweat rolling down her heaving cleavage.
Cree surged forward and slammed chest-to-chest. Ariel tried to hold ground, but Cree angled her shoulders perfectly and pinned Ariel’s right nipple flat against her chest, twisting it cruelly with her hardened point.
Ariel whimpered, too stunned to cry out again. Cree leaned in, her lips brushing Ariel’s ear.
"This isn’t a fight anymore," she whispered. "It’s a lesson."
"There it is," Cree growled, pressing harder. "Feel that? Right there. That’s your nipple losing."
Ariel whimpered, trying to twist out, but Cree rotated again and flattened both of Ariel’s nipples in a cruel double press.
Ariel’s eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath as she was pushed until her back was pressed against the ropes.
The pain was immense. Her tender nipples were being crushed. Her strength was failing.
Cree didn’t let up.
"Come on, you chubby crybaby. I want you to remember what it felt like when your little princess nips got pinnned."
The ref leaned in. The pin was solid.
"ONE!"
Ariel shook her head, teeth clenched, trying to fight through.
"TWO!"
Tears welled in her eyes. She gasped again. Cree leaned forward using her weight to pin Ariel's nipples tight. So tight that they slowly started to invert.
"STOP! STOP!"
The ref instantly waved it off.
"SUBMISSION! ROUND ONE GOES TO CREE CICCHINO!"
The crowd erupted. Cree stepped back, raising her arms in victory, her nipples still diamond-hard and triumphant.
Ariel collapsed to her knees, holding her chest, tears running down her flushed cheeks while her breasts were streaked with red welts. Kylie Jenner and Natalie Alyn Lind rushed to her side from the Wicked Queens’ corner, helping her up and shielding her from the cheering crowd.
Cree turned to the crowd, arms wide, laughing.
"That’s right! One down! Big boobs, little heart! Way too easy!"
The Wannabees were on their feet, chanting her name.
Ariel Winter slumped on her stool, shaking. Her face was buried on Natalie Alyn Lind’s shoulder, tears slipping silently down her cheeks as she tried to steady her breathing. The pain radiating through her chest was impossible to ignore—her breasts were a mess. Red, scratched, stinging. Her nipples throbbed, raw and swollen from Cree’s ruthless raking.
She hadn’t seen it coming. Not like this.
Natalie crouched beside her, gripping her arms tightly, eyes wide with disbelief.
“What the hell was that?” Natalie demanded, scanning Ariel’s battered chest with a mix of fury and concern.
Ariel turned away, her cheeks burning with shame. She couldn’t meet Natalie’s gaze.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “They’re doing something... I don’t know what it is.” She paused, choking on the words as her lips trembled. “Her nipples… it was like they were ice picks. I couldn’t breathe. They just—cut right through me. Like razors.”
Natalie’s brows furrowed, her grip on Ariel tightening. “Obviously they iced her down. You think they tried something else?”
Ariel gave a small nod, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what they did, but it wasn’t normal. That pain... it felt like cheating.”
Natalie took a breath, calming herself. “Look at me,” she said, lifting Ariel’s chin gently. “None of that matters now. She caught you off guard. That’s not happening again.”
Ariel’s breath hitched. Then steadied.
Natalie leaned in, voice sharp with confidence. “Now get out there and flatten that big-mouthed little b!tch.”
Ariel clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening. She nodded slowly, her pain now forged into something harder. Fiercer.
“She’s mine,” she growled.
And as the bell neared, Ariel stood—hurt, but far from done.
Cree Cicchino strutted back to her corner, hips swaying, chest thrust out proudly as the crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps. She turned, blew a mocking kiss toward the stunned audience, then smirked back over her shoulder.
“I hope the next round’s quicker,” she taunted, loud enough for Ariel to hear. “These nipples don’t play around.”
Jayden Bartels leaned in from ringside, her grin stretching ear to ear. “You got her now,” she purred. “She’s rattled. You own those big air bags.”
Cree grabbed a towel, casually dabbing at the light sheen of sweat between her breasts. “She’s mine,” she said coolly, eyes still locked on Ariel’s broken posture. “But I’m not done yet.”
Jayden raised a brow. “You going for the kill?”
Cree chuckled, her voice low and wicked. “Oh no. Not yet. I want her to feel it. To know it’s coming. I’m gonna use her as an example for the rest of the plastics.”
She leaned back in her corner, arms resting on the ropes, her tone dripping venom.
“I want to break her first. Really break her. Then I’ll put Ariel down for good… and out of her misery.”
A flash of cruel delight sparked in her eyes. Cree wasn’t just going to win.
She was going to make Ariel suffer.
Round 2 - Breast Striking
Ariel sat hunched forward on her stool, taking in gulps of air as the adrenaline faded and the throbbing pain in her chest returned with a vengeance. Only three minutes to recover between rounds wasn’t enough. Natalie was already at her side, pressing a fresh pack of ice to Ariel's aching breasts. Ariel winced and pushed her away.
"You need this, Ariel," Natalie said firmly. "It'll numb the pain."
"I said I'm fine," Ariel muttered through clenched teeth.
Kylie leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "You’re bigger than her. Use it. Smash her flat. She can't handle your weight. Your mass. Use it."
Ariel gave a slow nod. She'd been in a lot of brutal fights before. She knew how fast things could change. Losing the first round didn’t mean defeat. But winning the second? That could shift everything
She rose from her stool with determination, her pink breasts swaying with each step. The D-cups were still red from Cree's raking attacks, but Ariel's eyes were locked on the smaller girl across the ring.
Cree, on the other hand, was all energy and ego. She strutted in place, practically bouncing on her toes. Her pert B-cups barely moved as she warmed up, light and ready.
Jayden was in her ear, trying to keep her grounded. "Don’t get cocky, Cree. That was a great round, but she’s still got the size. Ariel’s going to come hard this round."
Darci joined in, quick and tactical. "Stay away from her. Jab, poke, and back off. Make her work. She's slow. She’s sore. You're faster, lighter. Use it."
Cree nodded with a grin. "I got this."
She glanced across the ring and mimed wiping away tears. Ariel gave her nothing back, just slow, measured breaths. The bruises were still fresh, the pain radiating, but she was focused. All business.
"Ready, Elsie?" Cree teased. "Are you done crying now? Get ready to get flattened?"
Ariel didn't respond.
Cree stepped closer looking directly at the damage she caused, her lips curling into a smirk. "Oh my! I didn’t realize how badly your boobs got owned. I'll go easy on you—at first."
Ariel’s nostrils flared as she stared her down unable to take another taunt. "This isn’t over, little girl. Time to show you what a real woman feels like."
Cree laughed. "So Miss Piggy has a tongue."
Both girls planted their hands on their hips and stepped into each other. Cree's firm B-cups pressed into Ariel's larger D-cups. Ariel felt her breasts yield slightly under the pressure.
Cree smirked again.
The ref yelled, "FIGHT!"
Cree sprang into motion, light on her feet and brimming with energy. She darted in, poking quick jabs and short crosses, landing precise strikes on Ariel's chest. Ariel tried to counter with heavy swings, but Cree was too fast, leaning back and dancing out of range.
Ariel grunted with frustration. Cree was landing more shots, but they weren’t hard. They were surgical. They stung. And they were scoring.
Cree circled with unending motion, her feet never still. Ariel was heavier, more stationary, her body working hard just to pivot and turn. Her back foot was slipping with each deep breath as she tried to keep up with Cree's torrid pace.
Three minutes into the round, Ariel had yet to land anything meaningful and she could feel the round slipping away.
"Come on, you little b!tch! Quit running and fight me!" Ariel snarled.
The ref motioned at Cree. "Engage."
Ariel steadied herself.
Cree danced forward.
BAM!
Ariel unleashed a looping arching right that caught Cree’s breasts full on. The smaller girl staggered back, shocked by the sudden force.
Ariel seized the moment. As soon as Cree planted her back foot to regain balance, Ariel came under with a thunderous uppercut.
Cree reeled from the crushing blow. Her smirk was gone, replaced by clenched teeth.
Cree responded with two quick shots that found Ariel's ribs and breast, but Ariel barely flinched. With a roar, she unleashed another swiping side swing that sent Cree stumbling.
Momentum shifted.
Cree tried to bob in, jab, then dart away, but Ariel had her timing now.
Then Cree stepped too close and Ariel dropped the hammer.
Her massive D-cups smashed down from above, catching the top of Cree's breasts. The impact flattened them downward with brutal force. Cree gasped, her chest convulsing in pain, eyes wide with shock.
But Ariel wasn’t done.
She stepped in, planting her feet like a prizefighter and launched into a savage breast barrage. Her left breast shot forward—SMACK!—catching Cree square on the sternum. Before Cree could even stumble back, Ariel followed up with a brutal right—WHAP!—that sent Cree backpedaling.
"Let’s see how you like it now, wh0re!" Ariel snarled, driving forward, throwing stiff, piston-like breast shots—left, right, left again—each one thudding into Cree’s chest like a sledgehammer.
Cree’s body jerked with every impact, arms instinctively trying to cover, but Ariel was too fast, too furious. Her technique was tight, crisp—straight lungees with her breasts, each strike landing with maximum torque and precision.
Another left rocked Cree’s right breast. A follow-up right slammed into her left, crushing the soft mound inward and making her grunt.
Cree was staggering, legs trembling, completely on the defensive.
Ariel stayed on her, relentless, driving her back step by step until Cree’s back hit the ropes with a jolt.
"You’re on the ropes now, big shot," Ariel hissed through gritted teeth, chest glistening, breathing hard but steady. "Time to finish what you started."
Then, with a fierce twist of her hips, Ariel unleashed devastation—her right D-cup arcing forward like a cannonball fired point-blank.
CRACK!
The massive breast slammed into Cree’s chest with bone-jarring force, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The shockwave lifted Cree clean off the mat—airborne for a heartbeat—before gravity yanked her back down.
She crashed to the canvas in a violent sprawl, arms flung wide, legs twisted, her eyes fluttering in stunned disbelief as her body skidded to a stop.
Cree wasn’t just down. She was wrecked.
The crowd erupted.
The bell rang.
Cree tried to rise, not realizing the round was over. She stumbled forward then tripped over her own feet and collapsed face-first, arms and legs sprawled still dazed.
Ariel raised her hands in triumph.
Natalie rushed in and hugged her tight.
Across the ring, Jayden and Darci scrambled to help Cree up and back to her stool. The younger fighter blinked, glassy-eyed.
Jayden looked her over. "You okay, Cree?"
Cree gave a weak nod, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.
“They're like bags of wet sand.
Round Two had ended—but everything had changed.
The score was even.
But the balance of power had flipped.
Ariel stood tall in the center of the ring, titst rising and falling with calm, controlled breaths. Her back was straight, chin high, eyes locked on her opponent. The pain she’d taken? Forgotten. Replaced by fire.
Across from her, Cree looked like a storm-hit wreck. Her body was hunched over, arms limp at her sides, her chest glowing red and throbbing with every breath. Her legs wobbled beneath her. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, as if she were still trying to figure out what had just hit her—and how hard.
The round was over… but the fight was nowhere near finished.
And now, it was a different war—one Ariel intended to win on her terms.
The hunter and the hunted had switched places.
And Cree knew it.
Round 3:
Momentum may have shifted to Ariel at the end of Round 2, but Cree Cicchino wasn’t backing down—not yet. As Jayden and Darci worked quickly in her corner, Cree winced and clutched her aching chest. Her pert B-cups throbbed, still stinging from the crushing end of the last round. Yet her eyes were laser focused.
"You OK, Cree?" Jayden asked, crouched in close.
Cree nodded weakly. "Yeah. They're throbbing right now but I just need a minute."
Darci leaned in next. "Ariel is bigger and stronger, but you're firmer. She’s going to try and flatten you again, but you’ve got strength where it counts. Lock your hands behind her back and dig in with your thumbs, low, in the small of her back. Trust me—her back will seize up. You just need to outlast her."
Cree nodded again. She had cardio on her side, and if she could just keep the pressure on Ariel’s weaknesses, she had a shot. She wasn’t ready to lose.
Across the ring, Ariel Winter was still gulping air, her chest rising and falling heavily. Natalie Alyn Lind knelt beside her, rubbing ice along the sides of her breasts.
Ariel swatted her away. "I don’t need it. I’ll flatten that little twerp."
Natalie grinned. "Then go crush her."
The bell rang. Both corners erupted.
The two fighters met dead center in the ring, locking hands like magnets pulled by fury. Ariel’s arms swept behind Cree’s back, wrists locking tight. But Cree responded instantly—going low, her arms wrapping around the small of Ariel’s back, thumbs pressing with pinpoint precision into right above the tail bone
"Nghhh," Ariel grunted, muscles tensing.
They squeezed into one another, torsos mashed tight, shoulders rotating violently. Ariel’s larger D-cup breasts encompassed Cree’s pert rack completely, pressing the smaller girl into her orbit, but Cree held her ground, groaning under the weight, yet pushing back. They were cheek to cheek, arms trembling.
Cree leaned in and hissed in Ariel’s ear.
"Feel that? That’s your big saggy breasts breaking down."
Ariel winced, her eyes fluttering as Cree pushed upward with surprising strength. Despite Ariel’s clear size advantage, Cree’s tighter frame and low leverage were taking a toll, driving hard beneath her with relentless pressure.
Ariel gasped, the pressure under her chest relentless, her body trembling from the strain. Cree’s positioning was brutal—strategic and unyielding as her nipples poked holes into Ariel's soft flesh.
"What’s the matter, big girl?" Cree taunted, her breath hot with adrenaline. "You can always give up. Just say the word and your nightmare will be over."
But Ariel had had enough. She bent her knees, summoned her core strength, and lifted. Cree’s feet left the mat entirely, legs dangling as Ariel hoisted her like a ragdoll.
Cree gasped, then yelped as Ariel shook her wildly, causing her body to whip side to side. The crowd erupted. But even mid-air, Cree stayed with the plan. Her thumbs drilled deeper into Ariel’s back, finding the nerve cluster Darci had told her about.
Pain lanced through Ariel. Her spine arched, and her knees trembled.
"Gahh—dammit!"
Ariel had to let her down.
The second Cree touched the mat, she swept her leg behind Ariel’s calf and drove forward. Ariel stumbled, off-balance—and then they crashed to the canvas in a heap.
Cree’s slender frame landed squarely atop Ariel’s torso. The impact slammed the breath from Ariel’s lungs while her breasts took the brunt of the impact almost sliding up into her face as Cree's body slid forward.
The ref rushed in and separated them. Cree staggered back to her corner, arms up, breathing hard. Ariel remained curled on her side, gasping like a fish out of water.
The count began.
1…
2…
3…
Natalie was screaming from the ropes. "Get up, Ariel! Get the **** up!"
4…
5…
Ariel’s chest heaved.
6…
7…
She grabbed the ropes.
8…
She pulled herself up. Just barely.
The ref signaled them back in. Cree came charging in, locking up again. Her thumbs immediately dug low again—but this time, Ariel had a plan.
She surged forward, arms wrapping tight around Cree’s ribs. She squeezed.
Cree screamed.
Ariel was using her size now—turning the tide again. Her arms dug in, crushing ribs and flattening Cree’s sides. Cree’s grip loosened. Ariel leaned back, adjusted her position.
And then gravity did the rest.
Ariel’s massive breasts settled on top of Cree’s smaller chest. The difference in mass was devastating. Cree's B-cups were squashed beneath the weight, pressed painfully flat against her ribs.
"How’s that feel, little girl?" Ariel hissed. "Tap out, and maybe you’ll wear a bra again someday."
Cree was defiant. Through clenched teeth: "N… Never."
But her face was contorting in pain.
Ariel lifted her slightly, giving her a cruel moment of hope—then slammed her back down, letting her heavy chest drop onto Cree's once again. Cree shrieked, her feet kicking uselessly behind her.
The repeated compression was brutal. Ariel was in full control, her confidence back. With every drop, Cree’s resistance wilted a bit more.
"You’re breaking," Ariel whispered.
Cree whimpered. Her arms weakening by the second.
Natalie screamed from ringside. "End it, Ariel! Flatten her out!"
Ariel grinned, eyes locked on her rival’s tear-streaked face. She hoisted Cree one more time… then launched forward.
Both fighters flew into the air.
The slam was catastrophic.
134 pounds of Ariel Winter came crashing down atop Cree with all the momentum of a finishing move.
The canvas shook.
The crowd gasped.
And Cree didn’t move.
She lay motionless, limbs splayed, breasts flattened, eyes glazed over.
The ref didn’t even count. He waved it off.
The fight was over.
Ariel rolled off, gasping but triumphant. Natalie rushed in and hugged her.
"Way to smash that little big mouth," Natalie grinned. "She deserved it."
Ariel was too winded to speak. She knelt there, chest heaving, drenched in sweat, breasts reddened, scratched, and sore—but victorious.
Jayden and Darci were at Cree’s side now, fanning her, wiping the sweat from hr face. She was slowly waking up, blinking through the haze but unable to get up on her own.
Ariel glanced over.
"Just wait until she wakes up," she muttered. "She’ll never forget what real power feels like."
The medics helped Cree to a seated position. She was conscious but couldn’t stand. Her eyes were puffy, her lips parted in disbelief. Her once firm breasts were hanging low on her chest and were covered in bruises and welts.
Darci wrapped a towel around her.
"You fought hard, Cree. But she was just too much."
Too much weight. Too much power. Too much Ariel.
Cree nodded slowly. "f$ck her!"
Round 3—and the fight—belonged to Ariel Winter.
Post-Fight: The Humiliation of Cree Cicchino
Ariel sat on her knees, chest still rising and falling from the exhausting war she just survived. Her arms hung heavy, but the triumphant fire in her eyes was unmistakable
.
Cree began to stir. The medics had just backed off, confirming she wasn’t seriously injured—at least not physically. Jayden Bartels tried to protect her young brash fighter, but Ariel pushed in, giving her a firm shove.
"Back off," Ariel said flatly, her tone making Jayden pause mid-step. "Unless you want to take her place."
Jayden looked torn, but she knew better than to provoke Ariel now. This wasn’t a fight anymore—this was something else. Something personal. Something earned
Ariel knelt beside Cree and gave her a few light slaps to the cheek. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to bring her back. "Wake up, princess," Ariel cooed mockingly. "Your curtain call’s not over yet."
Cree’s eyes fluttered open, confusion written across her face—until she saw Ariel looming over her. Her face twisted in frustration and realization, then shame.
"Wha… what are you—?" Cree muttered, dazed and weak.
Ariel grabbed her by the wrist and hair, dragging her up to her knees. "You had so much to say before the fight. All those jokes. All that trash talk. Now what?" she growled, bending down until they were eye to eye.
Cree didn’t respond. She was breathing heavily, her mouth open as if trying to form a comeback. But the words weren’t there. She was beaten—badly—and she knew it.
Ariel reached out and flicked one of Cree’s damp bangs from her face. "I’ve been on the losing end before," she whispered. "I know how it feels. But see, I’ve mostly own girls like you. And I never forget a loudmouth."
With calm, deliberate confidence, Ariel stepped forward and grabbed Cree by her damp hair. She hauled her up just enough, then slipped a leg in and guided the defeated brunette over her knee—not violently, but with the commanding authority of someone who had earned every right to do it. The audience gasped as Cree gave a startled cry, her body folding over Ariel’s thigh in an almost symbolic act of surrender.
“You talked big,” Ariel said low enough for only Cree—and the front row—to hear, “but in the end, your little bittie titties couldn’t back it up.”
Cree tried to wriggle free, but Ariel calmly pressed a palm to her back, holding her down with firm, measured control. The audience watched in stunned silence, unsure of what was coming next.
Then, with a smirk, Ariel reached down and tugged at the waistband of Cree’s thong, twisting the fabric tight. The sharp motion pulled a yelp from Cree as she squirmed, humiliated, the discomfort of the wedgie clear on her face. Ariel gave the garment one last tug before the tension finally snapped it with a dramatic rip. She held the ruined piece of fabric high above her head, twirled it like a trophy, then launched it toward Jayden, who caught it with a stunned look.
The arena roared.
Ariel wasn’t done.
She raised her right hand slowly, fingers spread, letting the tension build. The crowd quieted, holding its collective breath.
Then—
SMACK.
The sound of Ariel's palm landing on Cree's tight butt cheek echoed through the venue like a gunshot. Cree jolted.
“ONE!” the crowd shouted.
SMACK.
“TWO!”
Each crisp slap of Ariel’s palm was met with an even louder count from the fans. Ariel remained stone-faced, each spank a punctuation mark in her total dominance.
“THREE!”
“FOUR!”
“FIVE!”
By the time the crowd reached “TEN!”, Cree’s cheeks were flushed bright red with a few clearly defined hand prints etched on her round cheeks. Cree's pride was bruised as was her body. Ariel let her hand rest for a beat gently tracing the contours of Cree's warm cheeks, then gently slid the brunette off her knee, letting her slump to the canvas in a heap.
The arena exploded in cheers as Ariel stood tall, towering over her fallen foe, chest heaving and jaw set in victory.
If Cree Cicchino—or any of the cocky Wannabee fans—thought the worst was over, they were dead wrong.
Ariel Winter wasn’t done. Not even close.
Victory alone wasn’t enough. Not after the trash talk. Not after the smug smirks. Not after Cree’s endless needling.
Ariel wanted more than a win—she wanted finality.
She wanted Cree to remember exactly who broke her.
The woman who beat her down.
The woman whose breasts had conquered hers.
And reigned without mercy.
Without a word, Ariel used her boot to gently roll the groaning brunette onto her back. Cree barely stirred, arms sprawled, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Ariel stood tall over her, her shadow casting a long, ominous silhouette.
Then, with the precision of a fighter and the flair of a performer, Ariel bent her knees and dropped—landing with full weight of her booty across Cree’s stomach. The impact drove the air from Cree’s lungs with a loud, pitiful gasp, her legs jolting up as her torso jackknifed beneath the crushing force.
The crowd winced at the brutality. Ariel didn’t move.
Instead, she bounced once.
Then again.
Each time, Cree let out a choked wheeze, too weak to fight back.
Ariel finally reached forward, grabbing Cree’s wrists and pinning them above her head, locking her down completely. The visual was stunning—one woman utterly dominant, the other broken beneath her.
Ariel leaned in, her massive breasts pressing forward, shadows shifting as her toned frame lowered closer and closer to Cree’s panicked, wide-eyed face.
“Still feeling tough?” Ariel whispered. “Still think you can talk your way out of this?”
Cree shook her head, defiant but trembling. She clenched her jaw, trying to find courage, but her strength was spent.
Ariel smirked. Then, in a taunting rhythm, she rolled her shoulders side to side, letting the motion sway her D-cups over her rival—slow, methodical, and merciless. The motion became deliberate, theatrical, each movement building tension in the air.
Then—
SLAP.
SLAP.
The sound of impact echoed through the arena—not fists, but the sheer audacity of the humiliating dominance of one woman's breasts slapping the remaining fight from another. Cree’s head snapped side to side from the contact, her body twitching beneath Ariel’s weight.
SLAP.
SLAP.
By the tenth strike, Cree’s eyes were fluttering, rolling back as the breast slaps simply overwhelmed her. Her arms were pinned, her body trapped, and her will to resist shattered.
Ariel leaned down, face inches from her foe, and said just loud enough for the front row to hear:
“You’ve officially tasted defeat, sweetheart.”
The crowd roared, some cheering, others stunned into silence by the ruthless display of one woman stealing the fighting spirit from another.
Ariel Winter had toyed with Cree long enough. The crowd knew it. So did Cree.
Now it was time to make a statement.
Cree lay beneath her, dazed and breathless, her body quivering from the punishing barrage. Ariel looked down at the once-defiant "Wannabee" and narrowed her eyes. She was done playing. She was here to finish it.
With deliberate confidence, Ariel leaned forward—and dropped the hammer.
Cree’s eyes widened as Ariel’s powerful chest descended, blotting out the bright overhead lights. It was the last thing she saw before her world went dark. Ariel’s curves enveloped Cree’s face, smothering any remaining fight. There was no room to squirm, no way to breathe. It wasn’t flashy—it was final.
Ariel didn’t need tricks or theatrics. She didn’t need to tighten the hold or bring her elbows in tight. She had more than enough up top to finish this on her terms.
Seconds passed. Cree’s legs gave a weak twitch, her toes ever so faintly wiggled but her arms didn’t rise. Her resistance faded quickly, smothered beneath Ariel’s overwhelming dominance. Her body spasmed then went still, her breath no longer escaping hr lips.
The referee stepped in and gave Ariel a firm tap on the shoulder.
“Time's up, Ariel. Gt off of her.”
Ariel slowly lifted herself, standing tall and composed, victorious in every sense of the word. She looked down at the motionless body of Cree Cicchino, utterly silenced, utterly broken.
The crowd roared.
Ariel Winter hadn’t just won.
She ruled.
Natalie Alyn Lind stepped between the ropes, clapping slowly, her face beaming with approval.
“That,” she said, placing a hand on Ariel’s shoulder, “is how you silence a loudmouth.”
Ariel didn’t reply right away. She looked down at Cree, who was lying there motionless, humiliated, and broken in front of thousands.
“Let this be a reminder,” Ariel said at last, her voice loud and clear for the whole arena to hear. “Little big mouths write checks their bodies can’t cash.”
Ariel looked over at the Wannabee's and flipped them off.
Jayden had to be held back by her teammates, fury burning in her eyes.
“You crossed the line, Winters! You think this is over? When we come back, it’s hitting you ten times harder.”
Ariel and Natalie just laughed, tossing a smug glance over their shoulders as they strolled out of the ring without a care in the world.
Ariel Winter wins by 3rd round breast slam takedown
Team Badass Barbies-Wicked Queens 1 - The Wannabees 0
Witten by the Badass Barbies