Dörte Backpfeifengesicht's Punchable Face (Patreon)

A random thought one day when I remembered learning the German phrase “Backpfeifengesicht.” It means a face you want to punch/slap, and that kind of built into a persona as I brainstormed it out into a lady you love to see lose. So it became this supportive but sadomasochistic fandom surrounding this woman who’s too strong for the middle ranks so she’s stuck losing over and over.

As usual, making the humiliation of somebody bitchy and signing up for it with some understanding of what she’s getting into out of pride. I also didn’t know enough German to really mess with her dialogue much besides the name with an accent on it.

The Fire Boxing Federation was broken up into three tiers. Going by the fighter's performance and stats, they were sorted throughout the ranks. Top Tier was for the strongest and most capable fighters, which included Dörte  Backpfeifengesicht. She had torn through the Amateur and Middling ranks with ease, showing incredible skill after all her dedicated training.

She was also stuck as the eternal bottom of the Top Tier because she turned out to be too good for the Middling tier but outclassed by every other high ranking boxer. Since one couldn’t drop a tier in the FPF, Dörte  found herself piling up the losses trapped in a division where she couldn’t defeat a single fighter. People started to know her as "the Bavarian punching bag," and even her fans adored her for her ability to take enough hits to lose fantastically every time. Not that it made her feel any better that her fans were always waiting to see how she'd lose this time.

She was up against Fiona Kennedy, an Irish heavyweight woman with long and straight red hair. She was broadly built, especially about her hips and limbs. Lean abs and a tightly bound chest formed a firm upper body but her bulging arms and legs showed some intense power. She wore tiger-striped tight shorts and a sports top with her hair swaying behind her as she bobbed in her corner. She was decently ranked in the top tier of the league, so she was tough and light on her feet with powerful legs and thickly toned booty powering her movements.

And in the other corner was Dörte, a much more scrappy woman. She was athletic and pretty curvy like most of the ladies in this league. She had some toned but shapely curves all wrapped up in her gold colored outfit, which she liked to think showed her superiority over her earlier opponents. Nowadays, others took it as a good way to see her slobber stains easily. Her shoulder-length, sandy colored hair danced above her shoulders as the German athlete bobbed readily. Her lean muscle tensed readily and a fire burned behind her dark blue eyes.

She huffed, pounding her yellow mitts together as she stared across at the taller woman. She was committed to beating her losing streak and convinced she could take down a meathead like this. She just had to do what she did to get this far; obliterate her like the rest of the nobodies she met along the way!

Walking to the center as the ref called her over. Fiona had several inches in height on her, but even then Dörte looked up at her with a confident grimace.

“Ready to feel the superior might of yours truly!” she taunted.

"Sure, sure. It'll be fun using a punchin' bag that punches bag. Even if it's just for a couple seconds, ya two pump chump" Fiona chuckled dismissively.

Fiona’s fans cheered in the crowd, calling for her to "Wreck 'em, tiger" or waving "Fiona is Fire" signs. Dörte  had her own support, but it came from her fans who loved her reputation for doing her best and ultimately failing. Signs showed her pretty, smug blonde face photoshopped over a heavy bag. Adoring fans called out things like "Take a pretty beating, DB!" and a chant of "Lose the match, not your dignity" in German.

"Oh knock it off!" Dörte  snapped. She was always frustrated with her sadistic fandom.

Fiona bumped her gloves while she was looking away. It snapped her attention back to the fight just before the bell rang and the beefy redhead threw a huge straight at her face.

The tigers big orange glove slammed straight into the blonde’s nose, slamming her head back as she stumbled. She growled as she rubbed her face.

“Why you fucking-“

She stamped a boot to the canvas, planting herself firmly before running back in. She let out a husky battle cry while throwing out those golden gloves with reckless abandon. They would hurt most ladies, if not knock them out in a hurry, but once again she was up against a brick wall. They barely stung as her golden punches all being absorbed by the redhead as the fans continued to cheer. Fiona’s thicker figure jiggled from the impacts, but they largely only annoyed the tigress. That just got Dörte even more pissed and throwing her useless punches faster and wilder.

Both sides cheered for how the fight was going as Fiona shifted her footing carefully. She let her gloves and intensely thick arms soak most of the blows. A few swept around to connect to her solid sides, but she smirked as her gauging defenses confirmed that her hits were all but useless against her.

"Those're some mighty impressive mosquito bites there, lass," she jeered before suddenly swatting one of Dörte's stronger blows aside like it was a paper towel in the breeze. The German joke was flung awkwardly to one side from the deflected blow.

The blonde had leaned into the punch enough that all Fiona had to do was shoot her other guarding fist upward to smash hard into her chin. Dörte’s head snapped up, her fans eating it up as a spray of spittle went up like a fountain. Her vision still hazy as she stumbled back, but she was still trying to be the aggressor much to the crowds excitement. She went right back in to throw a few straights and hooks to the taller womans face.

Fiona showed she could really move for such a slab of woman. She advanced while shifting between Dörte 's punches just to unleash several deeply penetrating body blows. The rising hooks bashed into her toned abs with enough force to lift her off her feet with every hit. Fiona advanced on her like a bull, cutting through the German's almost non-existent defenses and powering her back into a corner. With her back braced on the turnbuckles, Fiona could unleash some recklessly aimless haymakers across Dörte 's pretty face.

Dörte found herself getting absolutely blasted by the tigress, slammed off the ground, and keeping her off as the crowd cheered her on. Her boots rarely touched back down before Fiona could crush her guts in another upward blow. The string of power blows to her face started knocking her brain around her skull like a pinball, leading the girl to see doubles, then triples after a few of the wrecking ball-like punches. It was getting tough to see all the Fiona’s past the stars in her eyes.

Dörte  stayed on her feet like she was so famously good at, but her stance slouched and her muscled arms hung at her sides. Fiona smashed her chin with an uppercut that flopped her up again and right back down. The blonde ragdolled against her opponent’s broad and solid chest as her brain tried for a hard reboot. Fiona gave a hearty, mocking laugh, bouncing her chest beneath Dörte’s drooling chin as the crowd went wild.

“My eyes are up here, ye strongbean,” she boasted, flexing her chest to bulge up underneath her face. Dörte’s eyes just rolled, even dizzier to be bumped back and forth by Fiona’s pecs.

“Drool on me next, DB~!” one of the blonde’s fan girls shrieked nearby.

Dörte groaned mindlessly. Getting an upper that might have put any other girls lights out, but unfortunately she was tough enough to stay conscious through the humiliation. The blonde tried to even fight back, but her arms wouldn’t respond fast enough. She felt the bigger woman lean forward, pushing Dörte’s back against the ropes to fully trap her between a rock and a hot place. Her exhausted arms draped across the top ropes, slouching against them as her lower body dropped and her nose got stuck between Fiona’s cleavage.

“Oh, ye need a leg up? Lemme help ya there.”

Fiona bearhugged the smaller boxer, grabbing her around the middle and lifting her up. She crushed Dörte’s soft, perky tits against her wall of a chest. Her gloved arms squeezed around her back to crack her spine noisily. The German pugilist shrieked in pain, dropping any earlier pretenses of her dominating this fight. There were some fans who were surprised that Dörte had no experience in singing given how pitch perfect her screams always were.

“Let go! You damn ogre!” the captive blonde cried.

“Ah, no problem. Ye scream like a girl anyway!”

“We ARE girls… UFF!”

Fiona shoved her roughly back to the middle of the ring and started digging some hooks into Dörte’s ribs. The Irish lass’ heavy punches thudded noisily against the German fighter’s solid but outclassed body, bruising up her muscles too much to be of any use to her. Her body contorted around from the mighty punches steering her around the ring. When her weary arms left no guard up whatsoever, sloppily hovering around her sides, Fiona threw a ferocious uppercut into her upper jaw. Dörte’s cheek distorted from the huge impact, warping her pretty face and sending her flying off her feet. She landed flat on her face a few feet away as the referee started the count.

“Ughhh… who let a fucking truck drive through here…?” Dörte mumbled as she planted a single shaky glove on the mats.

The audience laughed at one of the dazed and humiliating reactions she was so famous for. Fiona paced proudly nearby, flexing her bulging arms for the fans while limbering up her shoulders. The audience loved it, a win-win situation as Fiona dominated the fight and Dörte looked good losing it.

Even Fiona wasn’t surprised when the blonde got back up at 7. She could take a beating and stay standing, but she couldn’t do much more than that in the long run. Sweat soaked her hair and outfit, and Dörte had to wipe some drool from her mouth.

“I’m not done with you yet, you overinflated cow,” Dörte called out with barely a leg to stand on.

“Big talk for a piece of veal,” Fiona replied, approaching her with a hungry grin.

Fiona had been practicing her trash talk as much as her physical training knowing she was going up against the walking punching bag. It proved plenty useful in baiting her tender ego into another bout of furious blushing. Dörte came at her with a huge, angry haymaker that Fiona’s beefier arm easily got inside and brushed away. She brought her free right driving low into the blonde’s abdomen, the pain piercing right through her toned abs. Dörte mist of spittle over Fiona’s extended arm, crumpling over to ease the throbbing sensation in her guts. She flopped forward out of instinct as her legs gave out, faceplanting into Fiona’s musclebound cleavage.

“Is that all yer after? Not a fight but to cop a feel? Well ye only needed to ask!” Fiona gloated over her.

Her brawny arms hugged Dörte deeper into her bosom. Only her widened and fluttering eyes could be seen as she was titsmothered by her bigger opponent. Even with her steadfast control over the fight, she had worked up enough of a sweat to make it rub into Dörte’s nostrils.

The round’s bell rang and Fiona casually shoved her away. It was music to Dörte’s ears as she wheezed for fresh air. Fiona’s sweat haunted her sense of smell, staggering back to her corner with a heavy cough. She stumbled with her arms out until her gloves caught on the ropes, unsteadily dropping herself into her waiting stool. The league staff passed her a water bottle that she gulped from messily. Some of it splashed over her chest in her dizzied state, but with all the drool and sweat on her top it helped more than anything.

Dörte used the time to shake off some of her blurring vision and spinning head, but she regretted it almost immediately. All it did was let her see the shiteating grin on Fiona’s face and her own fans going wild. With Dörte slouched in her corner with her weary legs splayed out and arms wrestling on the ropes, they were waving around posters with cartoon stars spinning around her head or a loving collage of photos depicting her knocked out cold.

Dörte cursed under her breath. She remembered when she had fans who actually wanted her to win.

“Ready for a fresh beatin’ there, goldie?” Fiona called, rising to her feet as soon as the bell rang.

Dörte groaned as she stood with a much more obvious amount of effort. Everything ached. Even her shaky legs that hadn’t gotten the hell beat out of them hurt from struggling to stay standing. The drunken stagger to her step didn’t make their job any easier as she put up her gloves in a flimsy but at least presentable stance.

Not that it did her any good. Fiona threw a few  heavy punches her way rattling her guard with the casual strikes. Dörte threw a swift counter strike, smacking into the Irish boxer’s tit. She had been aiming for her face but between her rolling eyes and Fiona’s footwork not everything was going according to plan. Fiona swung a huge cross that bashed noisily into the blonde’s face, spinning her completely around in a full 360 spin like an amateur ballerina.

“Lucky shot,” Dörte gurgled defensively, since she couldn’t get much of an actual defense going anyway.

Fiona gave a triumphant laugh before smashing an uppercut into the stunned blonde’s chin. Her head snapped back while the rest of her stayed put, reeling for a moment before falling fully over backward. She hit the mat with her legs swinging up after her before fully settling on the mats. The audience started up a rhythmic clap, clearly getting a beat going for a chant.

“Get back up! Get back up! Get back up!” they repeated encouragingly.

Dörte felt the heavy stomps and claps echoing in her ringing head. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was enough to keep her conscious enough to keep going. She rolled to her side, a gloved hand rubbing her stinging face before starting to push herself back up.

“Draw it out, Dörte! Draw it out!” the crowd went on.

“Come ON!” Dörte shouted in protest as she lurched up to one knee.

At eight, she managed to get up and leaned on her knees, breathing heavily and trying to rest her various sore spots. Fiona was quite comfortable letting her recuperate, which frankly felt worse than if she’d gone in for the kill. The redhead was in no hurry to finish off a minor threat like Dörte when she could do it safer and in style.

Fiona squared up and stood ready and waiting for her. Dörte growled and moved to match her as she shuffled in, feinting and trying to come at her from the side. Fiona didn’t fall for it in the slightest, but she pretended to as she let the blonde outmaneuver her. Dörte grit her teeth and lunged in, unleashing a barrage of hooks and jabs into Fiona’s sides. Surely she could whittle her down as she beat on the vulnerable core of her muscle. Her gloves sank in with padding plapping noises, but each bounced back off the dense muscle. She was exhausting herself more than she was hurting the big redhead, who turned to face her with a grin. Dörte had started to wheeze by the time she was hitting Fiona in her abs with an equal amount of failure. She had to lean in with her arms around Fiona’s neck to stay standing, or slumping as it were.

“Alright. You had yer fun,” Fiona scoffed.

She swung a short, hard hook into Dörte’s ribs, forcing a burst of air and spittle out her lips and over Fiona’s shoulder. Her grip kept her standing as she all but ragdolled against her, huffing and coughing from the heavy body beating. Her toes occasionally left the mats before bouncing right back down to take another wrecking ball of a punch to her belly. The gloves were sinking deeper and deeper until Dörte was starting to wonder if she’d feel full later from all the punches entering her stomach.

Fiona drew out the entire second round like that, but Dörte remained technically standing. Her draping arms kept her up as she dramatically huffed down air, eyes fluttering and belly aching with every breath. Fiona stepped back just before the bell, easily able to watch the clock and her opponent at the same time. Dörte dropped to her knees, reeling for a moment before she flopped forward. With their height difference, she was at the perfect level for her face to fall into the crotch of Fiona’s trunks.

“Okay!” Fiona laughed showily. “NOW I just think you have a crush on me.”

Dörte just groaned and drooled over her groin until Fiona stepped back another face. Dörte landed flat on the mat as the bell rang, not even bothering with the count. Fiona brushed back her hair confidently, letting it flourish as she strode to her corner. Dörte was left behind to crawl on her elbows and slither into her stool. The attendant passed her a water bottle and she didn’t even Tbother to drink it. Her mouth was caked in drool so she just dumped the bottle over her head, trying to cool off and clear her head at all. Everything was still a stinging blur, and it was only her Top Tier level skills and training as the Bavarian punching bag that kept her standing.

The bell sounded again and she stood up mostly out of instinct rather than pride or expectation to actually fight. She didn’t even fully notice Fiona approaching until she ate a cross delivered right to the mouth. Her sweaty hair whipped and splashed some front row fans as she staggered into the ropes. Fiona quickly followed up with some jabs to her breasts, busting up Dörte’s bust enough that she’d be sore putting on a bra for another week. She howled as her nipples hardened from the unexpected attention, reacting as if she liked it as she tried to wrap her arms around her chest. Her whole body throbbed in irregular pulses of pain, making her moan and howl. Her fans cheered along with her, phones recording everything as her toned ass stuck through the ropes and her writhing could have been mistaken for a porn star from the waist up. At least if you ignored the occasional burst of boxing gloves flashing past the camera.

Fiona finally clobbered her dead in the face, making her flop back far enough that the audience gasped expecting her to fly over the top rope. Her arms were entangled in them well enough that she flopped back down and her legs bent outward, hanging like a scarecrow as her head rolled around between her shoulders.

“Ya… y’ain’t so tough, Tiger,” Dörte still rambled somewhere in her deliriously beaten state.

Fiona stepped back, casually adjusting her glove to make sure it was on good and tight.

“Oh really now? This one still too dainty for ya?”

She moved in with a huge, low uppercut aimed at the slouching Dörte’s stomach. To her credit, the blonde had started to drag herself back up to stand upright in a real testament to her endurance in the face of such a powerful opponent. Unfortunately, that also threw off Fiona’s aim as her targeted stomach went too high and her glove drove right into her crotch. The massive wind up followed through and lifted the German loser completely off her feet, leaving her wide-eyed and shrieking as her entire body’s weight was briefly left balancing on the singular point of the uppercut to her pussy.

Dörte’s scream turned into a choking noise as her eyes crossed in a comically stunned expression. Some of her fans tried to match her screams in their delight at one of her iconic losing faces. It was one her chatty online fandom liked to call a DB Ahegao. It clearly wasn’t the only time she had unwittingly dodged into a low blow.

Dörte landed back on her feet a full couple seconds later, but her legs immediately gave out. She fell to her knees and then her face, gawking and drooling on the mats with her eyes fluttering between wide open and fading fast. She seemed knocked out cold with her eyes open, her ass up in the air as her gloves feebly tried to cup her throbbing crotch. The confused stain of cum and sweat darkened the groin of her shorts, the wet spot made clearer with her choice of tainted gold colors. She looked like she’d just had some of the best sex of her life rather than had the crap beat out of her for three rounds.

Dörte barely twitched as the 10 count went off undisturbed. The bell rang and Fiona moved in closer, posing with her boot raised and planted on Dörte’s ass. With a quick shove of her sole, she put the golden blonde flat on the mats. Her breasts squashed out from under her torso, pillowing her chin and putting it level with Fiona’s boot. It left Dörte’s face resting on Fiona’s toes like she was unconsciously trying to lick it clean.

Fiona flexed for both of her arms of fans, taking a little extra pleasure knowing that basically the entire crowd was cheering on her showy win. She bet even Dörte would like all the praise and attention her fans would be showering on her after losing in such a cartoonishly flashy fashion.

---

Once she was dragged back and revived back in her locker room, Dörte was beat red as she browsed through the recent boxing news.

“Sexiest loss yet!? DB doesn’t disappoint with latest defeat!? Fan talk about discovering a ‘losing streak fetish!?” she read aloud furiously.

Dörte tossed her phone aside, growling as she pulled at her hair.

“With fuckin’ fans like these…” she grumbled.

She fumed for a moment before begrudgingly picking her phone back up. They really WERE praising her for taking hits so well and looking good doing it… it was the best compliment she could get these days, so she went on her usual bitter gratitude of liking her fans’ posts mentioning her in any positive light. Even if they were as crass as “I came to tonight’s low blow! Thanks, DB!”