She’s Got Punk’d
By Eko

Keitaro was multitasking when a new chat window popped up. Damn, instead of several girls who he didn’t bother to try to chat to, it was Daisuke who said hi to him.
“Yo Keitaro”
“Oh, hi. Hey, thanks again for repairing my computer.”
“No prob...actually about that...”
“Yes?”
“Well Keitaro...when working on your computer...something caught my interest :)”
Keitaro gulped. “Well...you know, you like ‘em too, right? Haha”
“Me? Lucky you, Yui isn’t my type.”
Keitaro nodded. No way he would let a freak like Daisuke sets his eyes on the Yui too. But it’s obvious he has found folders containing Yui’s photos.
“Still dude, isn’t it some kind of stalking? It’s not same like collecting celebrities photos, you know...”
Well, few photos were taken by Keitaro or his friends, but most of them were downloaded without her permission from Yui’s blogs and social networks pages. He wasn’t present in most occasions where the photos were taken.
“Well, all of us have our skeletons, but my, a good boy like you...seems your fetish’s pretty sick, man. Seems ‘damsel in distress’ means something else for you.”
Keitaro didn’t reply. He wasn’t stupid, but there was no chance to clean his hard disk before it got busted and he had no chance to get into Windows. Daisuke’s service was much cheaper than the computer store. He recovered Keitaro’s hard disk, and couldn’t resist to peek inside – techies cannot resist peeking at the patient’s pics and videos collection, except if the client is gay male.
Keitaro doesn’t collect regular porn. He collects ryona – images and videos of attractive females being hurt, animated or otherwise, mostly in wrestling or fighting settings. Unlike in the West where males fantasize being dominated by strong and muscular women, the Japanese prefer to dominate the amazon – or the hapless cutie.
“Hey, hey...what is it to you?”
“Easy, big guy. Would you like to do it with Yui?”
“Fuck. You.”
“I’m serious here. She’s doing kickboxing, right? I know some top guys there. I’m their cheat sheets dealer. I’m doing you another favor here, Kei-kun. A wrestling match with Yui. Mixed wrestling, brother. Jockstrap v halter. Groping and panting and all that. Just don’t let her bust your balls.”
Keitaro’s eyes bulged seeing the text on the screen. How he has spent boxes of tissues while looking at Yui’s sporting photos – weightlifting with her legs spread and her breasts standing, punching bags while wearing sports bra and mini short, and wiping sweats off her neck while smiling at the camera.
“You are not fainted yet, are you? Come on Saturday at four pm...at the Room D. You know where it is.”
“Huh? O yeah...yeah, that would be good...damn...thank you so much, Daisuke! Thank you!”
“Attaboy. Okay, I’m out now. You better do some little exercise. You want to look good for her.”
“...dumbass.” Daisuke snickered at his computer screen.

Keitaro did do the exercises – jogging, weightlifting, hitting the punching bags, and watching his videos on what can one does to subdue girls. Of course, as much he wants to feel Yui’s boobs and pussy, he doesn’t want to hurt them. Whether he loses or win, what matters is the prospect of getting skin trading with her.
Keitaro’s heart was beating hard as he entered the sports complex, while he couldn’t contain his smile and excitement. Daisuke waved at him, led him into the gym hall. Yui was nowhere to be seen. In the room was another guy as fat and geeky as Daisuke. He shook Keitaro’s hand, introduced himself as Shota.
“Get strapped up in the male’s changing room. We’ll start soon. Yui’s changing clothes too,” Daisuke pointed the locker room to Keitaro.
He wore a blue short and gym gloves, and looking as his reflection with disbelief. He wasn’t athletic but had the just right weight, and height. Keitaro returned to the hall with Yui’s still not there. Daisuke and Shota invited him to step into the ring. Then he heard someone walking toward the hall.
Keitaro’s heart sank. It was a woman, a very athletic and sexy woman, perhaps in mid 20s. She was not Yui. She wore purple sports bra and kickboxing short. Her dyed brown hair was ponytailed. She had squared jaw and narrow eyes and was bit taller than Keitaro. And she seemed really know how to fight.
“We are ready to record!” Shota unveiled a handheld camera mounted on tripod.
“Another fight of Miss Kira versus a wimpy chump...his name is Keitaro and he is a college student! Let the squash begin!”
Keitaro was still struggling to figure everything out when ‘Miss Kira’ ran and grabbed his shoulders. She pulled him and began to knee him in traditional Thai boxing fashion.
Keitaro had been grabbed and punched few times before, but not by a girl. And it hurt so bad. He helplessly walked backward, following Kira’s pressure. If a watcher asked why he didn’t try to fight back instead of letting himself be attacked, the answer was he didn’t think to fight back. Kira’s knees’ barrages landed all over Keitaro’s body.
Finally he fell by the corner after Kira let go of her grip. Kira rode on her, smiling to herself and proceeded to pummel him UFC-style.
“Keitaro?! Misa-sempai?! What the fuck going on here?!”
The sound of the hall’s door opened and the yell distracted everyone – except Keitaro as the pains and humiliation were numbing his reaction.
“Fuck! Why she is here?”Shota screamed. Daisuke gasped and froze before running toward the uninvited spectator. “Dumbass Keitaro must have texted her first on his way here!” He made the explanation to himself.
“Ah, ah, Yui-chan...it’s not good to be here...please...”
“Don’t ‘Yui-chan’ me, dickhead! What the hell is this? What’s going on?”
“Come, let’s talk outside...I’ll explain!” Daisuke was grabbing the girl by her shoulders.
“GET! OFF! ME!” Yui kneed Daisuke on the balls. He whimpered and dropped to the floor.
While Shota had stopped the recording, Kira/Misa was surprisingly inactive long enough, watching the scenes instead of finishing Keitaro. The guy took the chance by groping his opponent’s boobs and pinched her tits.
Misa was taken by surprised and shrieked. As she was reaching Keitaro’s invading hands, he quickly moved his right hand to punch her ribs twice, and pushed her away from her body. The bad thing was, Yui saw how Keitaro touched a woman very inappropriately.
Shota was very unsure on what he had to do. He wanted to press the record button again, but he had lost the moment, and Yui was rushing at him. He screamed patheticly and running away toward the exit, leaving the camera, his fallen comrade, and the fallen paid fighter behind.
Keitaro himself got panicked with what to do with Misa next, as she was struggling to get up while still nursing her stung tits. So Keitaro’s solution was to grab her ankles and stomped that purple triangle with his barefoot. One, two, three. Misa wailed while arching her back.
“KEITARO! STOP AT ONCE!”
Keitaro added an extra kick before stopping. Misa was curling on the mat, still moaning hard while holding her womanhood.
“Can someone tell me what is this about??” Keitaro inadvertly was in full boner – after his foot feeling the bones and soft meat of a vagina, and after seeing Yui standing hands on the hip feet away from him, clad in blue tank top and jeans.
“Daisuke set me up...he told me to...come here...and pitted me against...her.”
“That pig’s at it again. Well, some money earning scheme they’ve got. I know from the start you aren’t here willingly,”
“Well, uh, yeah...”
“So this is how you’re pitching money for new handbags, bitch...” Yui walked toward the ring. She got behind Misa and pulled her up by her hair, forcing her to look upward while kneeling. “Not so tough now, aren’t you?”
“Let me go, Hayakawa, or...” Misa gritted, called Yui by her surname. Yui slapped her face hard. “Or? Or?” She dragged Misa to the nearest corner and put her back against the turnbuckle. She asked Keitaro to help her tangling Misa’s feet to the middle ropes. Yui held her hands behind the turnbuckle. Nobody noticed that Daisuke had got up but didn’t bother to stay. He crawled his way out, also in cold sweat.
“I’m forgiving all the humiliation you put upon me...if you now suck my friend’s here like a cocksucking whore you are.”
“Go fuck yourself. Both of you.”
“Uh well, yes, that’s what we are going to do,” said Yui matter-of-factly, which caused Keitaro’s jaw to drop. “But you are to help him out with the warm-up. Keitaro! Drop your jock there and facefuck her! Go!”
Keitaro did her command not because he was eager. It was because he was scared of her. Keitaro drop his short and brief. He felt ashamed by his small penis, but now it is raised tall.
“Don’t you dare you little...MMPPPHHH!!”
Misa’s empty threat was cut off by Keitaro’s audacity in forcing his cock into Misa’s mouth. She was unwilling to suck so it was up to him to push. Keitaro took only one two minutes to shoot off his cum into Misa’s throat. She was coughing violently and tried to spit the sperms as much as she could. Her face was a mess, covered by semen, sweat, tears and ruined make ups. Yui let go of her arms and she dropped all four on the corner.
Suddenly Yui pulled her legs so that her crotch slammed the turnbuckle. Misa screamed in shock, horror, and agony. She was breathing hard, trying to withstand the pain. She wept and tapped her hands on the mat. Keitaro was shocked seeing the pure hatred Yui expressed on a woman he barely knew.
“Please, please, don’t kill me...no....I’m sorry...Yui...I beg you...”
“Silly ho, I ain’t killing you,” Yui smiled and pulled Misa’s legs again with malice. She let out a blood curdling scream and then lost conciousness. Keitaro was aroused again, seeing a broken woman lying at his feet.
“Stop ogling at her!” Yui slapped his cock and he held it in pain. In one afternoon the college girl had done violence on three different genitals. She asked Keitaro to get dressed. They left the sports hall, but not before taking away the memory card from the video recorder.
One hour later, Yui was rocking on her bed, gasping and screaming in orgasm as she became a cowgirl whose horse was called Keitaro, who was handcuffed to the posts. He would never ever hurt Yui...and in the mean time didn’t mind to become the recipient of her craziness.
Thirty minutes before the late afternoon sex in a university lodge, two figures crept back into the gym. They looked at the vixen in purple still sitting weakly by the mat, resting her right arm by the lower rope while still nursing her bruised pussy. Misa was still moaning and groaning as the pain was still biting down there at every breath.
“So, uh...what we should do? I mean...would it be okay? Can she still resist?”
“Uuh...I’m braver...so I’ll take the front side. I’ll face her.”
Nobody knows what happened next.