Clone High Boxing: Cleo vs Joan (patron reward) (Patreon)

First of the reward stories based on the Clone High show and https://www.deviantart.com/herosmacker/art/Joan-Of-Arc-Vs-Cleopatra-BOXING-COMM-949580201 in particular. Love the show to death, especially the first season, so it was fun to mess around with. If I knew more about history, I could probably do some wild stories with this kind of stuff. 

Also between the rewards, commissions, and just some stories I mean to follow up on, expect a bunch of boxing to come.

On the last very special episode of Clone High, Joan of Arc tried to arrange a charity event for recently divorced orphan babies. When Cleopatra got involved for the attention, the drama broke out until they couldn’t agree on anything. They finally decided to agree to disagree… except for the thing they agreed on. They scrapped their original plans for a “carbakewash” and started selling tickets to some gloved up, girl on girl boxing action.

Some of the greatest minds and leaders from worldwide history (or rather, their clones) were gathered for the fight of the semester. It gathered more attention than the slap fight between Abe and Booth during drama class, and raised infinitely more money. They’d had to get more volunteers just to gather the donations and tickets while showing the students and locals to their seats.

Both girls had dressed in tight, sporty outfits for their showdown. They both wore large red boxing gloves, short trunks, boots, and snug sports tops that boosted up their breasts into perky, bubbly shapes. Joan went with her usual emo flair to it, the boxing gear all done in grim gray and black that made her violet hair and pale skin stand out. Cleopatra was very much the opposite. The attention-whoring flirt had her black straight hair freshly done and hanging down to her middle back. Her clothes were a bold blue and gold color, flattering her deep tan. She had even kept her thick lipstick over her pouty lips and her flashy gold hoop earrings on for the fight. Cleo and Joan both sported a sculpted set of abs in the middle of their outfits, showing that they had been working out hard for the match.

“Are ve ready for ze round une?” Marie Antoinnette asked as she approached the bitter staredown.

Cleo had a smug smirk stuck to her face while Joan returned it with a sour scowl. They both got up and met near the center of the ring. Joan thumped her gloves together angrily, though most of the crowd missed the intimidation of the move in favor of her jiggling jugs.

“You HAD to ruin the point of this whole thing, didn’t you?!” Joan accused.

“Now everyone’s just here to look at boobs and violence instead of actually wanting to help people!”

Cleo blew a dismissive raspberry.

“I’m just giving them what they want. I’m sure your boring whatever would have been a huge waste of time and you’d just have come crawling back to me anyway because I’m the only one who can get anything done around here. So you can knock it off with the righteous act, Joanie.”

Joan growled and clenched her fists inside her gloves.

“I’ll knock your BLOCK off, bitch!”

Joan threw a furious fist at Cleo’s face, but the brunette gasped and recoiled quick enough to keep from being completely blindsided. The punch went wide and smacked Marie in the chin, sending her head flying off her neck. It bounced off her breasts and landed in her own hands before she sighed.

“Not again…” the French ref groaned. She waved a sign for Round 1 over her head.

“Let us begin, oui?”

With Joan having already taken her first swing, Cleo glared back at her and had put up her dukes. The girls circled with each other, trying to pick up on the subtle bob of their gloves and stances. They traded a few light jabs before Cleo naturally got greedy and threw a few more committed punches. Joan blocked and dodged them until Cleo leaned into a lower punch, digging some leather hard against her abs. The goth boxer grunted and jerked forward, doubling over a bit for Cleo to snap a short uppercut into her chin. Joan popped back upright, shaking her head to try and lose some of the dizziness. She blinked her vision back on straight in time to see Cleo charging right for her with a huge haymaker.

Joan panicked but threw out a stiff straight, intercepting Cleo with a stunning shot to the face.

“OWW! My perfect nose!” Cleo whined out nasally as she cupped her pretty face.

“Ohhh, so sorry. I meant to hit LOWER!”

Joan slammed a hard hook into one of Cleo’s sideboobs She gasped and stumbled as her center of gravity flew to one side, wobbling her tan tits around as they clapped into each other. The elitist Egyptian growled as she turned and threw a wide haymaker back at Joan. The goth leaned back around it and right back in for a cross to Cleo’s chin. A quick spray of spit flew from her pouty lips as her face distorted from the punch.

“Ha! Looks like relying on your looks and manipulating people doesn’t help you in real fight!” Joan pointed out to the reeling Cleo.

The popular princess rubbed her spinning head and grimaced back at her former roommate. She started to square up again but her face turned to one of total shock.

“Oh my god! Is Abe making out with JFK!?” Cleo gasped.

She pointed over Joan’s shoulder, and despite all her mistrust the juicy drama was too irresistible. Joan’s head whipped around, inevitably seeing nothing of the sort. Cleo’s feigned surprise turned to a wicked smirk as she grabbed Joan by the shoulders and slammed a knee into her crotch. The audience gave a surprised groan of sympathy pain before cheering the catty move. Joan gave a guttural grunt as her strength immediately left her body, crossing her legs and sending her gloves down to cup her aching groin.

“DINGER!” she cursed under her breath as Cleo backed off to admire her handiwork.

Joan was all but melting down to her knees, unwillingly bowing to the cheating Cleo.

“What? What ‘appened?” Marie asked, trying to tilt her decapitated head at an angle where she could see past her own breasts.

Cleo ignored her completely along with Joan’s usual whining. The goth was too busy holding her throbbing pussy to stop her as the Egyptian tore into her. She threw huge, unhindered blows to either side of Joan’s face, knocking her head around. The sweat, drool and leather started smudging her dark makeup as Cleo savagely beat the stuffing out of her.

“Guess manipulating people turned out pretty handy, eh, sunshine?” she pointed out mockingly.

Joan just groaned as her eyes rolled, knocked completely senseless between the cheating and the beating. Cleo pulled on her violet hair, making the drooling goth dangle there like a broken puppet. Cleo cupped her chin, smushing her cheeks and lips between her pinching glove.

“Stick with me, Joanie. We want our donors to really get their money’s worth, don’t they?”

Cleo forced Joan up to her feet, still slouching and weak enough that her face rested between the tanned tits. They were so enviably perky that they held her up on their own while Cleo left her hands free to hammer her in the guts some more. She huffed over and over, each blow burrowing deeper to spray sweat and spit into her bosom. Joan was soon sputtering on a small puddle of her own fluids before Cleo slammed an uppercut into her chin. The listless emo went flying off of her opponent and crashed into a corner, arms flopping and draping over the tops like a human scarecrow.

Joan groaned and barely held on, slumping lower by the moment. She forced herself to scoot back up to almost her full height, but she couldn’t safely leave the corner without falling on her bruised up face at this point.

“I’m… I’ma getchu… fer this… Cleo…fatra,” the redhead mumbled drunkenly as her brain cells tried to find one another.

Cleo gasped, momentarily shocked. Even the shallow, half-witted insult was enough to sting her huge but fragile ego. Cleo shot both fists straight out, drilling into Joan’s breasts as they were crushed against her ribs. She coughed for air as Cleo ground her gloves against her, the smooth leather twisting and wrenching on her nipples. Joan’s eyes watered but Cleo wouldn’t let her fall. She pushed weakly at the pinning gloves but she couldn’t budge them in her beat and exhausted state. The dominating brunette just laughed and gloated some more.

“I know everyone’s jealous of my gorgeous boobs, but don’t worry! I’m sure they’ll swell up past something more than mosquito bites with a bit of working over. See!?”

Cleo finally backed off, but she grabbed the front of Joanie’s top along the way. She pulled it out and down, making her pale boobs bounce right out of her clothes. The cheers reached a new peak as they saw the groggy-looking goth’s tits. Even if it was her own doing, Cleo couldn’t help but immediately get jealous. She frowned at the crowd briefly before following up on her plan, smashing an uppercut into Joan’s underboob. It connected hard enough that her titty bounced up along with her fist and slapped into the poor goth’s face, shocking and stunning her as she was punished for the envy she wasn’t even aware of.

“I’ll teach you to upstage me while I’m beating you shitless!” Cleo snapped with an indignant stomp.

She slammed a few more punches into Joan’s boobs, bruising up her pale skin quickly before she raised her heavy gloves. She slammed them down on top of the goth girl’s head, leaving her seeing stars as she crumbled into a sloppy kneeling position. After a moment of uncertain wobbling, she fell forward and right into Cleo. The dominating brunette bully had already turned around, striking a pose as she pretended to adjust her hair. It left her butt thrust out and waiting for Joan to fall into the pillowy buns, her nose buried between the crack of her opponent’s sweaty trunks.

“See? Even this loser knows her place is kissing my ass!” Cleo crooned, playing to the crowd while stroking her own ego.

She shook her ass for her hooting fans, which happened to rub it into Joanie’s face. Joan’s miserable moans were the best she could manage, and those just sent a sadistically pleasant tingle up Cleo’s hips. She even started to flex her toned and shapely glutes, making her butt cheeks bounce and thump against Joan’s face like she could beat her up without even using her hands. Joan’s tiny grunts were becoming music to Cleo’s ears as her victim’s warm breath turned out more exciting than anything.

“I’ve been working out. Can’t you tell?” Cleo gloated as she bounced her buns in Joan’s face.

“In faaaaaact… I wonder.”

Cleo pushed her butt sharply backward, thrusting into Joan to push her back against the ropes. She limply bounced back off of them, but Cleo had turned around to face her again. That left Joan’s face smacking into her toned abs, and with a few testing stomach crunches, even Cleo’s hourglass figure was lightly pummeling the weakened goth. She rippled her abdomen like a bellydancer, using it to smack her around with her firmly flexing abs. Joan took the odd belly busters before she went fully limp, sliding down the dominating brunette. Her dark lipstick smeared over the crotch of Cleo’s trunks as she hit the ground, the cooler mats almost feeling relieving for the bruised up loser.

She landed with her face resting on the ring and her ass up in the air, but Cleo gave a prodding kick into her stomach. It made her flop over like she was already unconscious, forcing to stare up at the spotlights. Cleo’s gorgeous, grinning face cast a shadow over her fluttering eyes.

“Wakey wakey, J.OA!”

Cleo’s ass hit her again as she sat down abruptly, sitting down on Joan’s stomach. The goth girl huffed and flopped hard, surprised at how heavy the skinny bitch could be. Her tender abs ached and she coughed from air with a little more energy than she’d had in the latter half of the match. It still amounted to nothing as Cleo reached out and grabbed her with a glove full of hair.

“It’s no fun if you just lie there. They’ll really empty their pockets over feeding the whatevers it was if the fight looks good. And I ALWAYS look good!”

To prove her point, Cleo whipped off her top and twirled it over her head. Her breasts bounced around, bigger and bouncier than Joan’s and getting an even bigger cheer to match. Her flirty flashing ended with her tossing her top into the crowd and turning her attention back to Joan. She smashed her glove down into Joan’s face, knocking her head to one side and splattering her spit and makeup on the mats. Her vision blurred, not that it mattered for very long. Cleo turned away from her and shifted her weight so sit her damned, perfect ass on Joan’s face, blocking out anything but the dulled cheers of the crowd and the smell and taste of her tormentor’s sweat.

Joan gagged and tried to hold her breath, but that failed as well. Cleo just sat on her and started hammering punches right into her stomach, crushing her abs and rearranging her guts. Every hit got a fresh spasm and a huff out of Joan, and the proximity of her face to Joan’s privates made it feel too good for her to stop. Cleo just bit her lip, loving beating up her bitter rival more than ever. All the while, she rattled off insults to go with her barrage of equally painful punches.

“That’s it! You know this is the only way you can get anybody off, you stuck up little dweeb! Not so high and mighty now, are you Joan!?”

“Er… do I do ze count now, or…?” Marie Antoinette asked, clearly uncertain and largely uninterested either way.

“Mmm… just one more~!” Cleo purred.

She raised a fist high overhead, and just the absence of pain was enough to make the barely conscious Joan flinch knowing something worse was coming. Cleo spiked her glove straight down again, this time lower to hammer it into Joan’s crotch. The trunks provided some modesty but no protection at all as Joan bucked hard, burying her face deep into Cleo’s booty and screaming against her pussy. The pinning brunette gasped and shivered, hugging herself so that her breasts squeezed up behind her gloves arms. She treated herself to a quick orgasm, her feminine juices washing over Joan’s face as the goth finally blacked out beneath her.

Cleo stood back up and brushed some hair away from her face.

“She’s all yours, Frenchy,” she permitted graciously as she strutted back to her corner.

Cleo leaned over the ropes, winking and blowing kisses to the crowd while the ref made her call. Marie just lifted up Joan’s lifeless arm a few times, letting it drop and shrugging her headless shoulders.

“Oui. She’s out. Ze winner is ‘Catty’ Cleopatra!” she announced to the cheering crowd, not bothering to raise her voice that much with how obvious a fact it was.

Cleo soaked up even more attention as the cheers slowly died down. The cloned teens started to wander off and even Mare went to get her head back on straight. The volunteers tried to figure out how to carry out the huge stack of donations while leaving the staff to start cleaning up after them. The janitor was sweeping up the dropped soda cans and tracked in dirt when the principal shooed him away.

“Just a second!” Principal Scudworth insisted.

He reached into the pile of debris, fishing out and dusting off a single tooth. He stuck Joan of Arc’s tooth into his pocket between a half pack of gum and his smoothie punch card.

“After a fight like that, she might want to end up with a do-over,” he noted with a bemused chuckle.