Lami Pi Productions
by Regis, inspired by “Kidfight Club” by Midwych


Warning: In addition to all of the other sexual violence, realistic scatological descriptions and pornographic smut, this story contains racial epithets, designed not to offend sensitive readers any more than other content of the story will certainly do, but to provide an accurate atmosphere consistent with that in which the protagonist found himself.



CHAPTER 1 – Building a Concept


Jackson Avery was a winner, and was always expanding the diversity of profitable enterprises, some of them not listed on his corporate portfolio. He did not come to the decision to get into the private nude cunt-fight business without having a thorough knowledge of what he was getting into. He had no idea where it would lead him, or that he would soon be the producer of extremely violent competitions between apparently innocent little girls.

He always gave his valued customers whatever they requested, and they paid him handsomely for satisfying the most bizarre requests. Jackson was in every regard an entrepreneur’s entrepreneur, who knew how to make any opportunity into a paying venture, and never initiated an enterprise without first doing his due diligence.

At the time he formed his concept for his new business, he had no idea of the very young age of the competitors he would feature in naked girl-fights, nor for how far he would allow their battles to go, for the thrill of the gamblers. He always developed a comprehensive background on whatever industry he was about to engage in, particularly one so perilous, due to its highly questionable legality.

He was in the transportation business, specializing in container transport, with a burgeoning international business. His company was known for transporting everything from electronics to large appliances to bulk goods, to the secret movement of contraband. Everything his company moved was transported by container. It was the modern way.

The firm's excellent reputation was for the secure movement of goods and for prompt delivery, from and to anywhere in the world his clients required. He owned a fleet of transport trucks on every continent to get product and commodities to port, and a fleet of container ships to move goods between continents.

Show business was new to him, but he had a flare for taking on new projects and making them successful. He was always watching for new concepts, and was open to any ideas that could make him money. His first real exposure to designed sexual violence for show entertainment was unusual for the genre, but it got him thinking about building a new profitable enterprise.

Unknown to his major clients, he had built his legitimate shipping empire on the illicit transportation of human cargo, remaining removed from the reasons the people he conveyed had to be shipped, bound and drugged, in his specialized shipping containers. For the past 25 years he had taken his primary business in a new hugely profitable direction, without risking his legitimate shipping activity.

His system for illicit transport of contraband and human cargo was designed so well that he was able to pull it of regularly without fear of discovery. That was critical, because discovery would have pulled down his entire transportation empire. His was a big and respected name, and any kind of scandal would be disastrous to Avery Transport Inc.

He made sure he had no knowledge of human passengers’ end destination and end usage. That was information it was important he not know. He was certain it was better that he had no idea he was moving slaves, people of all ages from around the world destined to serve in the sex industry or probably worse.

He had a good idea what ‘worse’ involved, and knew it could create complications for him and for his clients if he could be tied to the end use of the people he transported. If he were ever connected to knowingly transporting people to go into a ring to die for the entertainment of violence-lusting audiences, he would be complicit in murder.

Jackson was careful in serving only select clients who had their hands clean, with no criminal records or having any known connection to organized crime. On the other hand, having had many meetings with them, he was certain some of his clients were Mafia Dons.

After all, the slave trade would be a fundamental moneymaker for the Mafia, and Jackson was certain the mob controlled all of the areas where the quiet movement of humans would be valuable, such as prostitution and violent or deadly child pornography.

Two of his special customized containers bearing restrained and anaesthetized human cargo were due to arrive to arrive in San Francisco from the Philippines. They contained a fresh shipment of young females of various ages, including pre-teens. Because it was the first shipment to that California port for one of his better clients, he went out to ensure things went well, with no surprises.

The night before the consignment’s arrival, the client, Jimmy Schuster, invited him to a private party, held at the docks in a prepared space in one of his large warehouses. Cars could drive in to park, so that there was no visible large group of high-end vehicles in an industrial area, which would have drawn attention.

Although dress was casual, all of the people arrived in large limos. All of the guests were male, were among the elite of San Franciscan society, and all of them had much to hide. When they held a special party, particularly like this one, the event was highly secretive, because of the nature of what they planned.

“These guys attending tonight are all wealthy businessmen and politicians, all of them flaming gays, but none has ever come out of the fuckin’ closet,” his friend Jimmy told him. “At least not to the rest of the world. I got invited because I am trusted, and I provided the space.

“This is not the kind of affair they would want anyone to know about, and certainly not know that they were present, or ever endorsed. They go to great lengths to ensure nobody knows about their secret life, and take extraordinary efforts to disguise this kind of activity. The official line is that they are attending a political dinner.”

After an hour of cocktails and mindless chitchat, the all-male audience of about 60 separated to form a large circle. Into it was brought a pair of muscular young men, naked except for shiny black spike heeled boots. Both of them were sporting impressive erections from their cleanly shaved groins.

Their stiff penises were dribbling gleaming droplets of pre-ejaculation fluid that splashed on the concrete floor. Their heads and bodies had also been shaved clean of any hair. The two young men were as hair-free as the day they were born, but Jackson suspected neither of them was not nearly so innocent as a baby.

Their muscular bodies bore gang-related tattoos, showing they were once belonged to a crude support network, but now, particularly since they had been jerked out of death row in a federal prison to participate in this late evening sexual event, they were entirely on their own.

“These guys are lifers from San Quentin, with no chance of parole, ever,” Jimmy told him, “convicted of murder, and are happily without the minor inconvenience of any family ties. They were drifters, with no fixed address. They’re both what we refer to as fully disposable, and any damage occurring to them can easily be attributed to the very tough environment of the prison.

“That entirely suits our nefarious intentions for them. We can do whatever we fuckin’ please with them. These boys are here to give the gays a thrill, and I find their contests stimulating as well. I hope you’re in the mood to witness a very violent, aggressive event that might get a bit bloody.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jackson said. “These boys look like they’ve had access to and enjoyed a highly effective organ enhancer, like Viagra or Cialis,” he observed.

“Three pills each,” his friend confirmed. “They’re used to them, because the warden issues a cock-stimulating pill to all virile prisoners every morning. He likes to see them so wound up they can’t help but butt fuck each other in the prison yard. The prison gang leaders have their way with the lesser guys they dominate. They breed like fucking mink.

“The guys on the bottom have to depend on their best friend, their fist, to get their own pricks off. It’s quite a sight to see a man with his ass propped in the air getting his asshole reamed while he jerks himself off. Their rectums are what are known in the sex industry as boy-cunts.

“That’s descriptive,” Jackson said. “I’ve always preferred the rectum of a woman, and when I’m ejaculating, to burn her ass with a cigarette. It produces very stimulating squeezing of her entire colon. The anus of a girl in her early teens is also quite satisfying. I’ve never plumbed the butt of a male.”

Billy nodded, and continued with his description of what was to occur at the gay gathering. “It’s amazing what a massive dose of designer dick stiffener and a taste of high quality purified speed can achieve at these parties. They’ve got both in their systems.

“It’s all a matter of creating the right environment, atmosphere, for these guys to get it on. Both have a record of being brutal fighters, and I’ve heard there is some serious money riding on the outcome of this battle. These boys will love performing for a crowd of men. I think you’ll enjoy being in on this.

“This is exclusively guy sport, but I think the ladies would enjoy observing it as well. Women really get off on watching people of either gender doing damage to each other, the more severe and sexual the better. It’s just that this special interest group doesn’t need or want any cunts hanging out at their distinctive parties.

“Tighten you jock strap. It looks like these two rigid pricks are ready to rock and roll!”

Handlers placed stout leather belts around the waists of the two nude men. Each belt was fitted with a cuff attached to the back. Each man had his left wrist placed in the cuff, effectively immobilizing the left arm. Now they had just one hand to work with, whatever it was that was expected of them in this bizarre situation.

“It’s a special fight night,” Jimmy explained. “This is going to be a handicap bout. They can’t put up much of a defense with only one arm. To maintain balance with the use of only one arm, they are forced to keep their legs apart and their knees bent. In these terrific high heeled boots, their every movement will cause their big stiff dicks to bob and wag beautifully, and their big balls to swing wildly.”

“I’d guess their testicles will be vulnerable as well,” Jackson said, and smiled broadly. “This competition is likely to become quite interesting. I haven’t seen a good fight since my school days,” he told his friend, “and except for one that broke out in the showers, those were not in the nude.

“That shower fight was quite funny, because the whole football team was there as witnesses of an unplanned fight that broke out while everyone was showering. The two guys who fought were jerking their roots, having a ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ contest when emotions took over, and things quickly turned quite nasty.

“They grabbed each other’s cock, jerking on them to try to get the other guy off his feet. The more they moved, the more they actually jacked each other off, until they were both spurting thick gobs of cum all over each other. Teenage football players can be very stupid, and these two definitely were.”

“Wish I’d got to see that one,” Jimmy said. “The fight tonight is the start, just to determine the loser. It will likely be a cock fight too. I hope you’re ready for some rough stuff. The fight will definitely be entertaining, and will take most of the time, but it is not the objective. This bout will have a loser in the real sense of the word.

“San Francisco gays love to witness gross sexual violence. This is likely to become very dirty. I’ve provided this warehouse as a safe place for their organization to do something like this. Their association has provided extensive security to ensure they’ll have total privacy, which is completely necessary, as you’ll see. They’ve done events like this before. They call this kind of event a Jewel Heist.”

“That’s a curious term for a fight,” Jason observed.

“I think you’ll find it completely appropriate. One of these two young criminals is going back to jail without his family jewels. This show is going to be a total cock and ball castration event. Everything comes off the loser. Nothing left but a little hole where his urethra spills out, just in front of his asshole, the place he’ll have to pee from.”

Jackson felt his erection jerk with that news. “The guy’s cock’s coming off too?” he asked, incredulous. He had never in his life witnessed anything close to this, but was quite interested to see how it unfolded. His interest went beyond the erotic content. He was interested to see if there were any financial benefits to be had.

Adding total organ removal as a conclusion of a male event was an interesting twist. He wondered if there might be a female equivalent. It would probably be uterus destruction, he guessed,

“Definitely,” Jimmy said. “The winner will be the one who gets his opponent down and gets on top of him. His first task is to jack off his opponent, just like the boys at your high school shower fight. Then his cuffed wrist will be freed from his belt, and he’ll be given a sharp butcher knife. These young guys have their instructions.

“They’ll obey the rules to the letter, because they’re literally fighting for their manhood! If they want to walk out of here with their cock and balls intact, they’ll do exactly as instructed. Any deviation from the script and the guy on top will also automatically qualify for total castration.

“At least one of these studs will be made into a fuckin’ woman, no matter what! They’ll have to squat to piss. That’s the whole purpose of this party, and what the men have come to witness. The warden is a member, and does all the paperwork to cover their absence, which will not likely be necessary, as well as whatever happens to them in this competition.

Jackson’s pulse rate became palpable as the nude male fight commenced. The men sparred, each looking for an advantage. They were both capable street fighters. They were able to punch with their free hand, but could not defend well with just one arm free. It was a good match up, and before long both had bloodied the other’s face.

Both also had their left eye swelling closed. Their penises bounced and their balls swung wildly with each move. The men in the audience cheered on their favorite. With only one arm free to maintain balance as well as to fight, their primary use of their free right arm was to remain upright, and to strike at their opponent.

With the need to keep the arm moving to keep their balance, they had little opportunity to get a foot up to kick the other in the nuts. Critical was keeping upright. Neither was able to gain an advantage, and the punishing fight went on for more than 45 minutes. Both slipped more than once, but recovered before the other could take advantage.

The young men bobbed and weaved between punches to avoid receiving a telling blow from the other, but both managed to connect regularly. The one-arm attacks were sometimes awkward, but were taking a toll every time a big taped fist connected. This late in the bizarre battle it was apparent the men were becoming exhausted.

At last, one of the tiring men, slamming his foot down in a sudden turn, broke the spike heel off one of his boots, and went down. Immediately the other straddled him, sitting on his chest, his back to the downed man’s face, and with his free hand grasped the base of his opponent’s rigid penis.

The firm flesh of the captive penis reacted to his grasp, and he felt in complete control of his downed adversary. He could feel the stiff organ pulsing in his powerful fist. He continued to jerk on his adversary’s cock, causing it to stiffen and swell further, until the flared head beginning to leak a telling dribble of pre-ejaculation fluid over the victor’s pumping fist.

A handler stepped in, and unclasping his bound wrist, placed a butcher knife in his newly freed hand. The direction of this event had taken an irreversible course. Jackson held his breath. They had given the convicted murder the chance to kill another man, this time in public. The dominant man did not use the blade immediately, but instead continued to firmly, rapidly and purposefully pump on the raging erection of his foe. “You’re my bitch, you fuckin’ prick!”

Jackson grinned when he saw the man on top was effectively jacking off the young man he had pinned to the concrete floor. He was going the whole way. The men watching the show cheered him on as he aggressively masturbated his fight-mate, and in a couple of minutes he gradually increased the tempo of jerking the captive cock until he brought the pulsing flesh-mast throbbing in his fist to an erupting ejaculation.

Jackson was startled with his stimulated sexual response to this sight. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and realized what a highly erotic event this was proving to be. What enhanced the excitement was in knowing that the big testicles and spurting cock were about to come off.

Without hesitation the man on top got his long stout fingers around the large swinging testicles as well as the rigid cum-spurting penis of his downed rival, painfully pulling and stretching the entire gonad assemblage away from the screaming and ejaculating young man’s groin.

The men surrounding the combatants shouted their unbridled encouragement. The victor responded as they wished. The crowd was delighted to see the man with the knife was highly sexually stimulated, and massively ejaculate as he screamed in rage. With a swift and masterful stroke of the sharp blade, he separated his foe’s cum-spurting penis and gonads as a single unit from his clean-shaved crotch.

In that quick moment of mastery over his opponent, he completed the fight’s prime objective of a total ceremonial castration. The wound in the loser’s groin where his genitalia had been spurted blood, thrilling the cheering men who had come for this extreme form of violent entertainment.

The jubilant victor leaped to his feet, holding his severed prize high over his head and dancing in elation. His own firm member began pulsing, and then to spurt jets of cum into the air, to the delight of the male audience. A glass of heavily salted water was splashed onto the clean groin wound of the other, stemming the flow of blood.

“Our surgeon will stitch him up to ensure the end of his urethra is exposed. so that he will be able to pee like a woman,” the host said. “He’ll have to squat to piss, but that’s appropriate, because he’ll become a bum boy for the other inmates, and will likely die with a penis filling his colon with semen while a blade rips open his belly. He’s about to get started as a boy-cunt as I speak.”

Two burly handlers flipped the loser onto his stomach, and propped his buttocks in the air. Without hesitation, the victor mounted him, thrusting his spurting erection into the castrated loser’s rectum and deep into his colon. The man’s humiliation was complete. He ceased his disconsolate screaming, and quietly sobbed.

Jackson was impressed with the positive effect of dressing the nude male fighters in spike-heeled boots. The vision of the spike heels on naked males doubled the raw cock-lifting eroticism of the experience. Jackson made a mental note to keep this in mind.

The men who made up the audience displayed remarkable restraint by keeping their own organs in their pants, but Jackson spotted more than one pair of trousers with a growing dark moist spot, revealing the wearers’ involuntary production of their own pungent seed, a partial ejaculation producing what are commonly called fresh pecker tracks.

Jackson had an immediate new appreciation for what power there was in watching as a group of like-minded people, a live, only partially controlled act of extreme sexual violence. This was going to be the foundation for what he would develop as a secret show organization.

CHAPTER 2 – A Startling Discovery


Jackson Avery’s wife Martha had left her cell phone on the counter when she had rushed out for a coffee meeting, and when it buzzed to give notice a text had arrived he picked it up. He knew better than to open it, but the message was brief and showed on the front screen:

“Adding Betty, who’s 5, redhead, experienced. Serious punch and knees! Her Mom’s into it. Love this tot’s chances! Got aggressive opponent for her? See you Thurs. Love, Helen.”

Now he was too curious not to look. It was part of a string of messages from a woman who’s ID at the top of the string was Helen Regent. They were all signed ‘Love’. He wondered if Martha might be bisexual. He was certain Helen was gay. He had only met the Regents once at a New Years Eve party, and spoke with them briefly.

Harry was a prominent political lobbyist in Washington, with a significant law background. His law practice pulled a lot of weight. His firm also did work in London, Berlin and Bangkok, representing big industry to governments. He was also known for representing highly placed people in legal disputes, ranging from tax avoidance to involvement in criminal activity.

His wife Helen was a voluptuous beauty with long jet-black hair, curls in the right places, and Betty Page bangs that covered her eyebrows. She was a sexy dresser, and reputedly had more interest in wives than in husbands. Helen had a strong, influential manner, and looked like the kind of always-smiling woman who at first glance was a charmer.

Those with dealings with her discovered she was also used to getting her way, regardless of the social cost. Jackson found her interesting, and noticed in a couple of conversations during the evening that she was indeed able to sway opinions, and used persuasion as her main tool. She also showed an edge that suggested she could be brutal, when doing so would allow her to dominate.

The text message on his wife’s cell phone suggested both Helen and Martha had erotic taboo interests they acted upon, far beyond the apparent. It also made it clear the two were working together on a private project. Jackson was leaving for New York Thursday morning, and would be gone for 2 days of business negotiations. Martha knew this; he’d planned the trip 6 weeks ago, and with ongoing delicate negotiations, she also knew there was no way he was going to cancel. What the fuck was his wife up to?

Little girls fighting? Tots in combat? She would have their Las Vegas mansion to herself for two days. Obviously she planned to entertain guests, with cute and perhaps nude fighting little girls as the entertainment. He suspected his wife and Regent’s were into a girlie, kiddie and tot fight club! Fucking hell!

He tried unsuccessfully to think of an alternative explanation for an experienced 5-year-old redhead with a mean punch requiring an opponent. Surely his wife of 40 years wasn’t into those underground nude KidFights. Hell, although he’d heard talk of them, he had never seen one or even a video to know if they were real. The stories he’d heard said they were run by the mothers of the fighting little girls. That was doubtful at best. There had to be another explanation.

He went quickly into her den, and found her computer was on, although he knew her password. He went online and searched through her Bookmarks. Martha had broad interests, with a lot of bookmarks, but she was very well organized, and he quickly found what he was looking for. They were not on the usual internet, but were instead on the highly secretive and encoded Freenet, requiring Torrent connection.

There were three recently visited websites, a live streaming service and to top it off, a complete archive. She had saved her ID and password that came up automatically, so the sites were, for all practical purposes, completely accessible to him. What the archives had in common was the contraction KidFightClub in the folder names. Obviously this stuff on the fight videos was organized.

He and his wife had young grandchildren; what the hell was Martha doing with her nose into kiddie porn? From what he’d heard, this stuff could get quite filthy, and potentially violent. That was quite risky. The last thing he needed was for some cop to come visiting while she was entertaining her associates with a friendly little nude kiddie fight.

He went to the first folder in the archive to see what was offered, and was startled at what came up. Both startled and turned on. What he found were, as the name made clear, kiddie fights. Or to be more accurate, kiddie girlie fights, featuring nearly naked little girls, getting it on in front of a group of masturbating women. Only women.

Somewhere, in the large party room of a private home, with furniture cleared for the event, a simple unadorned ring was set up, with about 20 women forming an audience around it. The ring was a minimal affair, consisting of 4 stout posts on wide metal bases weighted down by heavy sandbags, standing on a cheap carpet laid on a large plastic sheet, obviously to protect the home’s expensive hardwood floor.

The posts were joined by two strands of small gage wire, one connected to the tops of the posts and the other half way to the floor, both held on with white insulators. A heavy-duty battery was connected to an adjustable energizer. It had three knobs, and looked like it could vary the voltage and pulse frequency of power delivered to the wire.

This ring was nothing but a sophisticated electric fence! The posts were no higher than 3 feet. This ring was designed for fights between small children, and would give them anything from a slight uncomfortable buzz, a solid jolt or a disabling muscle-spasm shock if they were in solid contact and with the right voltage.

This was serious equipment for what purported to be a casual club, meeting in a member’s home. It was clear the stories Jackson had heard were not only true, but understated. What he saw told him there was an organization behind this, and he wondered if he could determine who drove it.

Two pretty little girls, one 6 and the other 5, wearing nothing but skimpy sagging diapers, were placed in opposite corners. These little girls were too old to require diapers. The skimpy protective infant wear had been purposefully pinned loose so that they would hang suspended, and likely slip further down soon after the action started.

A female voice-over on the video said, “Meet Sherri, who’s 6, and her opponent Tammy, who’s just 5. Sherri has a mean right, and Tammy’s a real scrapper. Pick your favorite before they get it on, because all betting is off once the first punch is thrown, no exception!”

The otherwise naked little girls had their hands taped with cloth tape, and were set to fight each other. The women screamed encouragement as the children eyed each other, both of them knowing they were likely to get hurt. This was not going to end without damage. Jackson was surprised they were so very young. Would either of them even know how to effectively fight?

Neither of the naked little girls looked particularly keen; in fact they appeared to have no idea what was going on, but the shouting women were highly excited, making it clear they were experienced, and knew precisely what to expect. Although the two in the ring were novices, the young mothers forming the audience were veterans of these parties.

The young women’s agitated behavior told Jackson most of these ladies were hardened fans of kiddie fights, anxious to see the little girls punch the crap out of each other, and hoping for blood. This video was promising to be good! His refined, urbane wife Martha, grandmother to 3 beautiful little girls, was among them.

One of the women had a small notepad, and Jackson saw she was acting as a bookie. She moved around the room, obviously taking bets on the outcome of the impending fight. He watched Martha give the woman a small roll of folded bills, placing what appeared to be a substantial bet.

A mature woman with a shapely figure, wearing an open blouse that revealed more of her cleavage than it covered, a perky short-short skirt above gorgeous bare legs and spike heels stepped into the ring. She was carrying two leather collars decorated with spikes and attached to either end of a chain, less than 2 feet long.

The spikes on the collars looked to be more dangerous than Jackson guessed they were. He would wait for a close-up shot to see if the points gleamed. Collaring the naked children was a creative idea, and introduced several interesting possibilities. In Jackson’s mind, looking forward, collars were in, diapers were out. The collars hid nothing of interest.

The woman brought the girls to the center of the small ring and snuggly collared them. The collars and short chain acted as an elegantly simple mechanical referee. Now the little girls could not escape each other, nor turn their backs. Both of them were now totally vulnerable to the scratching nails, pounding fists, jamming elbows, driving knees and furious kicks of the other. It was simply a matter of which of them could strike the other most often, and hard est.

“Bets are now closed,” the voice said, “Let the fight begin!”

Once the action started, the cute nearly naked little girls would have no option but to fight each other. The chain served as a perfect referee for a fight like this, as it recognized no rules, other than the requirement the fighters continue their attacks on each other. There were no outer options.

These women had developed a terrific structure for their amusing pugilistic pastime, and Jackson realized that men would be easily as interested as any woman in this kind of event. It was a shame to hide a pair of pretty little cuntlets with diapers.

You would not have to be a pedophile to enjoy watching naked little girls combating each other. It wasn’t about sexuality, it was, like all boxing, wrestling and whatever other forms used by the combatants, pure sport. It was just that their nakedness lent color to the fierce competition, and made them both vulnerable to bruises, cuts and scratches on all parts of their cute little bodies.

It was not that their nakedness was required, but clothing provided some level of protection, and fully displayed little cuntlets would have made the naughty little girls’ appearance even more interesting. The two little girls in the ring braced themselves, ready to do combat.

Any little girl of 5 or older was starting to develop the female shape that both women and men found attractive, and all of these children were very well selected. Fat, stubby legs and arms were developing into lovely limbs with the right curves. Their tight little tummies had cute bulges in the right places, and their buttocks retained prominence behind, echoing the form of breasts.

It was completely natural for a man to get aroused, and likely at the peak of the action to ejaculate, just as the women would experience a succession of orgasms watching the performance of highly sexually stimulating kiddie violence. He thought it would make a lot of sense to include men in the audience, simply for the extra revenue they would generate.

This was a natural sport for men, who would likely have innovative ideas on how to improve the excitement factor. Just from watching the preparation, Jackson was developing ideas on how the match might go, and what kind of cruelty he would like to see these kiddies inflict on each other.

When told to begin, the pretty little girls were slow in starting, and Jackson was startled at the rude encouragement of quick zaps from cattle prods in the hands of their unsympathetic mothers. Those jolts had to hurt! They leapt into action, and were soon going at each other with all of the tricks in their bags, striking with growing fervor.

They kicked, pulled hair, scratched, kneed each other and threw volleys of punches, some of those doing some damage. Their lack of style said these two were rank amateurs, just little girls whose mothers happened to belong to a kiddie-fighting club. It was clear they both understood what had to be done in order to win.

Jackson expected they had both been in the kiddie gallery during earlier fights. That would be the least their mothers could do to prepare them for this kind of action. Both were crying and sobbing, but they kept their knees, kicks and punches coming, with growing effect.

Even at their tender age, it was apparent that they had both received some form of training, because they knew to deliver flurries of punches. Jackson assumed they probably also had some prior experience in such bouts. Judging from the number of women in the audience, these nude kiddie battles were likely a common occurrence.

The sobbing children knew to give each blow their all. That was how their attacks on each other were successful. They had probably competed in some ritzy afternoon tea competitions, carefully staged naked little girl fights that were designed to be highly sexually stimulating for their all-female audience. Jackson learned that women got their jollies arranging and watching such things.

Their mothers were clearly getting off on the damage being done to their little daughters, as well as to the damage they were doing to the other. The moms both appeared to be unconcerned, and were quite happy to see the growing damage of scratches, bleeding noses and swelling eyes.

The small kiddies’ only defense was to attack, and attack is what they did, with vengeance. Some of their blows were effective, and soon Tammy had a cut above her eye and the taller Sherri had walked right into an uppercut with her head down, and earned herself a serious nosebleed.

This video featuring the nearly naked little girls pounding on each other was proving to be a great introduction to what, in Jackson’s view, was an innovate new sport, and he was getting quite interested in how it unfolded. This kind of erotic action was what got his imagination racing.

The women were screaming encouragement to the little girls, who were sweating from the exertion of the fight, and who’s diapers had begun to slip with the heated action, providing regular revealing glimpses of their most intimate charms, with frequent interesting peeks at their puffy little pussies. This was the best of show business.

The front of the thin diapers were soon yellowing, becoming wet and dripping with their urine. Tammy, in the heat of being severely pounded by Sherri’s taped fists, had also passed a firm stool, visibly rolling in the sling of her slack little diaper, swinging wide with her every movement.

Jackson could also see from the severely sagged diaper she was squirting piss with every blow she took. Compared to Sherri, Tammy was more of a tot, without the ability to act upon her instincts with the kind of results she wanted. She got in a pair of telling blows to Sherri’s right eye, which was swelling and blackening, but her body punches were easily absorbed by the larger 6-year-old.

A woman, likely the hostess, was spraying the ring from a bottle of Febreze, to control repugnant odors. These ladies loved the sights, but were not as comfortable with the aroma of this kind of action. Jackson realized the origin of the term ‘getting the shit beat out of you.’

In this minor exotic sport for erotic minors, shit production was a definite likelihood, and the hostess was prepared. There was no way she wanted the offensive odor of child excrement to mar the enjoyment of her guests for the thrilling aggressive violence they had come to take pleasure in.

The tempo of the battle intensified, and Jackson’s penis rose in his pants as the nearly naked little girls pummeled each other with vicious kicks and punches. This was the stuff of men’s dreams, men who imagined the fun that took place during recess at a reform school playground.

In a dream everything was possible, and in wet dreams, men had conscious control of what they witnessed. These wet dreamers would imagine that uncaring teachers would not supervise little girls on a reform school playground, and in the video fight, there was no referee anywhere in sight.

It was therefore clear these rude afternoon tea parties must have no rules to be enforced. Certainly the organizers knew about rules and the importance of enforcing them. Having chosen to have none spoke volumes of their caring for these children placed in harm’s way.

There was also no sympathy to be found from the women in the audience, most of them young mothers, who were all screaming encouragement for the combative little girls to wreck more violence on each other. Their mothers had put them here, and were as excited as their friends to see their little beauties doing hurtful harm to each other.

It appeared to Jackson that it was as important to the mothers that their children receive hurtful punches as well as to give them. The little girls were too young to do very serious damage, but they did their best, and the audience at first saw the blows as cute, and edgy, but as the fight developed the women were screaming for more damaging strikes.

The short chain joining their collars kept them within easy striking range, and the brilliance of the design was that the only defense for the naked little girls in the ring was to strike back immediately and hard, sustaining the frenetic tempo of their fierce battle.

Sherri acted like she was in total control, but little Tammy was feisty, and gave her some great blows. The younger girl was definitely not making it easy for the 6-year-old. Her knees were damp with Sherri’s urine from blows to her cuntlet, which was protected by the slim diaper. Sherri’s knee was too high to be effective in the groin of the shorter girl.

The fresh warm stool fell from 5-year-old Tammy’s diaper onto the carpet as she swung wide, missing her target, and she inadvertently stepped on it, with it’s brown muck squeezed up between her toes. ‘Girls will be girls,’ Jackson thought, as he watched the hostess squirting another spray of Febreze onto the freshly-stomped kiddie-muck.

‘Why am I not surprised the production of their poop is an important part of their humiliation in the ring?’ Jackson thought as he enjoyed the mayhem of the stimulating kiddie fight. Their mothers and their friends like to see it mean and dirty, and little girl turds are certainly dirty.

The battered younger tot had involuntarily added what appeared in the video to be unexpected charm to the event by evacuating her colon yet again. The stress of the fight had caused the delightful child to lose her bladder and anal countenance.

She had released both her pee and poop into her loose diaper, and it appeared the mothers and other women in the audience expected, were delighted by and not surprised by the squealing and shrieking child’s ready display of lost continence. The beating the game little girl was taking removed any of her physical restraint.

Of course it was by design these kiddies would likely take a crap while they were being brutally pounded by other naked little girls. That was the sole reason for the partially view-blocking diapers. Properly revealing their ejection of their liquid and solid excrement, and views of their piss-squirting pussies required that the mess-control diapers be pinned on them very loosely.

It was also the reason the event’s hostess had a Febreze spray bottle close at hand. Production of their excrement was an expected reaction. Kiddie shit was a natural part of this kind of raw uncensored contest, accounting for the need for the little girls to be in diapers, even worn so loosely.

“Accidents” happened, particularly with such small children, who were very few years past their potty training, and with the use of diapers, the homeowner hosting the KidFight event hoped to reduce the amount of clean-up of excrement she knew would be necessary when the others had left.

None of the others, all of them paying customers, would help her restore a clean, prim and proper home, not even her paying friends. She was the one who had charged the others to attend, probably making a few thousand for her efforts, as well as getting half of the gambling take. This certainly was definitely not the kind of mess she would want a hired party cleanup company to see.

The spontaneous production of the little girl’s waste delighted the screaming ladies as much as the blood and snot that now came from both battered noses, and tears that streaked their faces. Both girls were continuously crying, and at the same time beginning to display raging anger and attempts at revenge in the flurry of repeated blows they rained on each other, to good effect.

The fight wasn’t over until the game little 5-year-old Tammy had both eyes swollen shut, and was so groggy from punches she was unable to get to her feet when she fell. Sherri threw her hands high in the air. Her thrilled mother unclipped the chain from her collar, and she ran a double victory lap in the small fight ring, losing her loose diaper as she ran.

She had produced a single tight turd during the fight, one that rolled across the ring when her diaper fell off, firm enough that it left no track. She was elated, and was also still frantically sobbing. Her excitement got the better of her, and she experienced an unexpected bowel movement.

When Sherri she stooped to strike the downed Tammy again with her clenched fist, her tight buttocks parted wide, her anus opened, and she produced and dropped a second firm stink log. She ignored the indignity, and continued to pound her fists into the screaming toddler.

When she was done, the now bottomless Sherri kicked the downed Tammy so hard in the chin she knocked the younger kid unconscious. It was unexpected but made the perfect ending for a kiddie fight. The masturbating women that formed the audience were squealing their delight as they experienced raging orgasm.

They loved this kind of powerful ending to a fight between naked little girls. It was clear to Jackson that once a young mother was hooked on this sport, she would be an easy mark for more extensive kiddie battles, fights that promised much more severe outcomes.

‘This really is serious stuff!’ Jackson thought to himself. ‘It could easily be allowed to go so much further. What potential! I see terrific promise here for a profitable new industry, both with these relatively tame erotic kiddie-fight parties, as well as something far more productive, with guaranteed extreme outcomes for the loser.’

He realized such show competitions would have to be conducted in a totally private place, with a vetted audience, a venue where anything was possible. He had the ability, resources and imagination to obtain such a place, both remote and accessible. The ideas were taking shape in his mind as he enjoyed his wife’s secret collection of videos.

He quickly pulled up another video, and then 3 more, putting them up split screen, allowing him to watch them all at once. He brought up each full screen for a moment to examine the audience, and saw his wife in one these as well. In two of the videos, featuring taller, more experienced 8-year-old girls, there were no diapers.

These were fully nude encounters. The young girls’ beautiful cuntlets were on full, unbridled display. There was nothing hidden. On the contrary, their child-like vaginas had been prepared, engorged by stimulation so that they stood open and their inner lips protruded, a sight prudes might find disturbing. Jackson’s penis surged at the sight. His large cock stood at full attention. He was no prude.



. . . . to be continued