So you might be wondering how a tomboy like me ended up in a bikini wrestling competition. Or not. Either way, I'll tell you.
When you're 20 years old and a sophomore in college, you'll take on just about any opportunity to pay off your tuition. And your books. And all the other little expenses they throw in there just to suck your money dry.
I was honestly prepared to get a part-time job like any other college student. Sure, having to work and commute to school would be a pain, but it beat having to pay off loans for the rest of my life. I should've probably gotten a sports scholarship while I was still in highschool, but at the time I decided I wanted to do sports more as a hobby.
To my surprise, my group of friends from highschool (mostly the guys, really) hatched a crazy plan to help me out. For the longest time, they all kept saying how they wanted to see me in those local wrestling matches held around town. How I'd be 'really good at it' and that I'd 'kick all the other girls' asses'. I guess there was a bit of truth in their compliments: I was on the highschool wrestling team for a little while and did pretty good while I was there. But if they were being honest, they would've just wanted to see me strut around in a skimpy bikini.
I guess I couldn't blame them. Sure, I always told them to piss off whenever they suggested it. I wasn't about to waste my time like all the ditzy bimbos who liked to enter that sort of stuff. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little flattered.
So I made them offer: if they could raise enough money to pay for my college expenses for the next year, I'd wear whatever skimpy outfit they wanted me to. And enter in whatever stupid 'wrestling' tournament they wanted.
To their credit, the idiots somehow got enough funds together. Apparently they set up a Patreon fund or something, in addition to saving a little of their paychecks every month just for this occasion. They had the biggest goofy grins on their faces when they told me they managed to scrounge the money together. And to answer my offer, they gave me their own bet.
Apparently there was a local 'bikini wrestling' tournament coming up, complete with a cash prize. It had a strict set of rules: no biting, scratching, or any blows to the face. Obviously violent stuff like broken limbs and eye-gouging were banned too, of course. Seems like the organizers of this tournament wanted the participants to look pretty while they kicked each other's asses, with good reason too. When the tournament started, each match was gonna be livestreamed on the Internet, where my good buddies could watch in the comfort of their own houses.
As for the conditions my friends gave me, they were simple: just sign up, and they'd transfer the money they'd gathered to my bank account. According to them, I didn't even have to win. Just 'look good', as they put it. They even took the time to buy me my own swimsuit.
And that brings me to the present.
I was standing in the locker room of a gym, looking at myself in the mirror. My light skin was all smooth after generous applications of lotion, my light brown hair is in its usual pixie cut, and my light green eyes are staring back at me with a confident expression. About as confident as I could get, anyways.
Oh, right. Then there's my bikini.
It was about as skimpy as I expected. The colors, were alright I guess. The tops and bottom were a bright neon blue, outlined by an even brighter neon green. The two tiny triangles that formed the top made my perky C cups really stand out, and the little green strings that held it together made the bikini look even tinier. And that's not even mentioning the thin piece of neon green fabric that had a habit of wedging itself uncomfortably up my ass.
"Wow...I look like a fucking stripper..." I muttered to myself.
Still, if the guys went through the trouble of getting the money together, I might as well give them what they wanted.
Today wasn't the official start of the tournament. The organizers rented out a gym for 'bracket matches', as they called it. Basically practice matches meant to size up the competition. See where we stand in terms of skill. You get paired against three random opponents before getting placed into a bracket for the real tournament.
The best wrestlers get put in the ‘Heavyweight’ bracket (a bit of a misnaming if you ask me, considering anyone can be here if they’re good enough). Then for the average wrestlers there’s the ‘Middleweight’ bracket. And finally, for those who don’t wanna try or are just that bad, there’s the ‘Lightweight’ bracket. I’d bet money that the ‘Lightweight’ section is just for girls who wanna show off their tits while ‘wrestling’.
After the ‘bracket matches’ comes the real thing. The tourney’s split up into Skirmish, Semifinals, and Finals matches for each bracket. If you lose a match, you can petition to have a rematch. If the judges like you enough, they’ll grant that rematch. But you only get one rematch per stage (so three rematches in total).
If you managed to win the Finals, you get a cash prize depending on your bracket (Heavyweight winners get the most, while Lightweight winners get the least).
For a tourney about women wrestling in bikinis, this sure had a lot of rules.
But I’d cross that bridge when I’d get to it. For now, I needed to head out of the locker room to face my first practice opponent.
With that in mind, I sauntered out (putting a little sway in my hips as I did because I knew my guys were watching somewhere), and headed towards the large blue mat in the center of the main gym.
In the corner of my eye I could see a small camera crew recording my every movement.
“Oh, shit...that’s right,” I muttered under my breath.
I remembered practice matches were going to be recorded too. Though they weren’t going to be available to the general audience, just people who were willing to pay a premium to watch them. Which probably included my friends, considering they had enough money to get me here in the first place.
With that in mind, I decided to do some yoga stretches as I waited for my opponent. Stretching in such a tiny bikini felt...well, awkward as hell. But at least it got me limbered up and a feel for my bikini. That way I wouldn’t be surprised when it suddenly started rubbing against my pussy, or riding up my ass.
...Like it was doing right now.
“Don’t mind me,” I called out to the camera crew (and the invisible audience watching the private livestream). “Just gonna stretch until my opponent gets here...whenever the fuck that’s supposed to be...”
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My bikini: https://www.etsy.com/listing/541339837/bright-blue-with-neon-green-trim-micro?ga_search_query=neon%2Bblue&ref=shop_items_search_71&frs=1