How Using My Oppai Skill to Enlarge My Sister’s Breasts Led to Building a Harem

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Chapter 51.2

Ten minutes into the match, my counterattack begins.

“Hn!!”

“Gah!?”

Grabbing Shishidou-san’s swinging arm, I lock it in an armbar, pinning her to the mat, wrenching her shoulder joint.

“Guh, aaah…!!”

In the ring’s center, Shishidou-san grinds her forehead against the mat, writhing in pain. Her joint, twisted to the brink, seems ready to snap.

Screams erupt from the crowd.

The invincible Shishidou-san, caught off guard, now trapped in a joint hold.

“Stop it, you bastard!!” “Let her go!!”

As the ultimate heel, I’m showered with boos. Ignoring them, I lean in, putting more weight into the hold—

“Aaaa…!!”

Shishidou Kokoro claws at her head, tormented. The audience panics.

But I don’t ease up. Because I know—she’s not truly suffering.

(I’m not fully locking it…)

Joint locks use leverage; a slight misalignment prevents a true hold. In a show, that’s exploited on purpose.

“Guh, aa… Kuh…”

My massive frame bears down, seemingly crushing her joint. Shishidou-san endures the brutal assault—then hooks her foot on the rope.

“Break!!”

The ref dives between us, halting the hold. I release her arm with a reluctant air, standing.

The crowd exhales in unison, relieved.

“Guh… You’ll pay for that, you bastard!!”

“Gu!?”

A thunderous dropkick, fueled by her full weight, slams my chest, hurling me to the ring’s edge.

My body crashes into the ropes, rebounding. The creaking ropes, absorbing my bulk, fling me back—right into—

“Oraaa!!”

A spinning back kick counters, smashing my face.

“Shaaaa!!”

Shishidou-san roars, fists raised. I collapse to the mat, staring up at her.

(It hurts… But she pulled back at the last second, so no major injury.)

I hit her slowed foot face-first. If she’d kicked through, I’d be out cold.

(This is… pro wrestling…)

A controlled kick, staged to look devastating. It’s a technique far harder than amateurs realize.

(It’s all calculated…)

One mistimed move, and it’s either fake-looking or crippling. Pro wrestling’s a razor-thin line of entertainment, collapsing with the smallest error. She pulls it off like it’s nothing—a true professional.

“Gugu…”

“Still standing, huh? Tougher than I thought…”

It’s a show. We both know it. That shared understanding fuels our exchange.

It’s so damn fun, my masked face breaks into a grin.

“Not bad…”

“…”

No words needed. As if sensing my vibe, Shishidou-san smirks.

“Come at me.”

“Oooo!!”

The fierce clash resumes.

※

After rounds of strikes and throws, about thirty minutes pass since the match began.

“Haa… Haa… You’re really tough…”

“Fuu… Fuu…”

We’re both panting, shoulders heaving. With stamina to spare, I move.

“Zua!!”

“Kuh… Ah!?”

My rolling sobat catches her upper chest, sending her slender frame flying.

(Didn’t hit. Just pushed.)

A kick strong enough to crack her sternum—I eased off at the last moment, pushing instead.

“Aaaa…!!”

She flies back, far more dramatically than I expected.

(That’s her receiving skill…)

In pro wrestling, taking a move is as crucial as delivering one. Making it look brutal while landing safely—pure pro artistry.

“Fuuu!!”

“A…!”

To heighten her peril, I grab her silky hair, yanking her up. She screams, clutching my wrist, resisting—

“Kyaaa!?” “What’re you doing!? Stop!!”

The crowd gasps. No wonder—pulling hair like that could rip it out.

“Aaaa…!”

“Hn!!”

Using brute strength, I force her up, driving a knee into her chiseled abs. She doubles over. I follow with an elbow to her face.

“Hiii… Cruel!” “Stop it!!”

For the finisher, I slide my arm under her crotch, hoisting her upside down.

“Uwa!?” “Enough already…!”

I slam her back onto the mat. My body slam makes her bounce off the ring’s springs, rebounding hard.

“—Guaaaa!!”

A deafening crash. She writhes, her screams matching the impact, thrashing in agony.

(She’s incredible… It shouldn’t have hurt at all.)

It’s all acting. The hair-pull was a trick—she supported her weight with my wrist, sparing her scalp. No pain.

My knee and elbow struck thick muscle, avoiding injury.

It looks vicious, but I’m careful not to break her. I’m all in on this pro wrestling.

(Still, I’m beat…)

Even a thirty-minute workout exhausts me. Doing it under the crowd’s eyes? Draining.

I play it up, hands on knees, panting. Glancing at Shishidou-san, our eyes lock.

“(Time to finish it.)”

Her gaze says it. She staggers up, then flings herself backward.

“!?”

“Haaa!!”

She hits the ropes, using the rebound to rocket forward, legs spread, aiming for my face.

(Uoh!? What’s that…?)

I stare at her crotch, caught off guard, but it’s a headscissors whip—a legit move.

Her legs lock my neck, twisting her body to drop her head, using the momentum to throw me.

“(What the…!?)”

My wrestling knowledge is shaky, but it’s like a sacrificial throw in martial arts, using her fall to hurl me.

“Guhaa…!?”

Thrown with brutal force, I don’t resist, flipping mid-air to crash back-first onto the mat.

The loudest cheers yet explode.

Rope work for instant speed, followed by an acrobatic throw—a finisher. No wonder she’s a fan favorite.

The queen of wrestling, tossing a giant effortlessly, earns endless praise from the stands.

(She’s unreal… This is a pro wrestler.)

Deep down, I’d scoffed at wrestling as scripted fakery. I was dead wrong. This isn’t a martial arts duel—it’s a deadly serious entertainment show.

(Maybe I should just lose…)

I’m ready to concede. Not logically—instinctively. The atmosphere she’s built makes losing feel right.

(Just stay down… Hm?)

She’s gone. Sitting up, I spot—

“Finish her, Shishidou!!” “Do it!!”

The crowd claps, hyping her as she climbs the top turnbuckle.

“Here I go!!”

“Uoh!?”

She leaps, aiming another scissors at my neck.

(What now… Take it again?)

Repeating moves in wrestling’s a no-go. It bores fans and reeks of acting.

“Taaaa!!”

“Guh…!!!”

Her legs lock my neck again. But this time, it’s different—a Frankensteiner, dropping her head straight through my legs to throw me.

But—

(Her grip’s looser than before!)

Fatigue or the unstable turnbuckle—her legs slacken slightly.

The instant I notice—

“Daaa!!!”

I grab her waist, slamming her body to the mat with raw power.

“Gaha—!?”

She didn’t expect the reversal. I broke her finisher with brute force, topping it with a full-power powerbomb.

“A… Uuu…”

She bounces twice, lying supine, motionless.

(What now… Oh, pin!)

Belatedly, I cover her, pressing her slim shoulders to the mat. The ref slides in, starting the count.

“One!”

Stunned, maybe concussed, she doesn’t stir.

“Two!!”

She lifts her head, glaring at me with frustration.

“Th…”

The count halts. Seconds pass, but her shoulders stay down.

“Th—… Three!!!”

The ref finally finishes, and the ringside gong clangs loudly.

“Match over!!!”

The ref crosses his arms overhead, signaling the end. An improbable upset—the queen of wrestling falls.

The crowd buzzes, stunned. They never doubted her victory.

But this is reality. Accident or not, winner and loser are set. And—this isn’t the end.

I’d almost forgotten: this is an adult film shoot. A woman lies spread-eagled—

Shishidou Kokoro, waiting for my cock.

“A… Kuu…”

I touch her body, checking her condition.

(She took the fall right… No injuries—wait?)

Her body’s state flows through my hands. No visible damage, but something catches my attention.

Her knees.

(She’s pushed them hard… They’re wearing out.)

At 29, she’s young by normal standards, but not for an athlete, especially in injury-prone combat sports.

(That’s why… her legs slipped.)

During that turnbuckle leap, her knees were already screaming. She knew it, yet pushed to meet the crowd’s expectations—a true entertainer, a professional.

(Then it’s my turn to shine…)

Steeling myself, I gaze at her defenseless, spread legs. A woman with such beauty, strength, and spirit. The thrill of our fight and her form drive my cock to strain against my trunks.

Screams rise from the stands. The crowd remembers the match’s stakes, realizing what’s next.

Ignoring them, I rip off my trunks.

Shrieks erupt—women gasping at my vertical, throbbing erection.

Shishidou-san’s eyes widen, locking onto my cock.

“A… No way…!?”

Shock at the size of the tool about to claim her.

(I won… Time to do this.)

I shove aside the fabric clinging to her crotch, exposing her barely used pussy.

“Yah… No…!!?”

A feminine cry escapes the once-fierce warrior. That alone makes my cock throb with joy, twitching wildly.

Pinning her down, I align with her pristine pussy hole. And—

“N-No… Wait—!”