Post by SammieSinclair on Feb 7, 2015 17:05:08 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, “your following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit... and is for the FAWN Lightweight Championship!”
At this point, not everyone in the crowd knew exactly WHO would be challenging for that belt tonight--but any enemy of Polly Lockwood is friend of the FAWNatics, leading to a rousing cheer as the man in the suit continues...
“Introducing first, she hails from San Antonio in the great state of Texas. She stands 5 feet 3 inches tall, and tips the scales tonight at 124lbs... Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the forever Young American...”
His voice trails off for a moment, before tacking on the words that send the crowd absolutely through the roof...
“... and your NEXT Lightweight champion... OLLLIIIVVVIIIAAA BAAARRRKKKEEERRR!!!!!”
Olivia Barker...
With the Young Americans union forever consigned to history, the buxom redhead needed her own identity. The first trappings become apparent when the arena’s sound system comes to life. Gone is Metallica, and in its place is Train... yet a sly nod to the old Ollie, and possibly a dig at the new Polly, remains. As “All-American Girl” pumps over the speakers, Barker bursts through the curtains...
“ALL-AMERICAN GIRL”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIzpabHe3Ok
Again, gone are the hot pants and the bikini top. Two pieces have been replaced by one, though the plunging neckline still reveals plenty of Olivia’s ample cleavage. Now, Barker spots gear modeled after the flag of her native San Antonio: blue on the right side, red on the left, with a white star emblazoned across the midriff, which contains an illustration of the Alamo in its center. The pads and boots on Olivia’s right side are blue, the ones on the left red.
Delighted to be back on Pay Per View for the first time since her former partner had defeated her over a year ago, Barker is all smiles as she takes the time to slap as many hands as she can on the way to the ring, then doing a full lap and a half around the immediate ringside area. Barker takes the steps two at a time, turning her back to the ropes and pumping a fist to the masses--which is met with another thunderous cheer--and a rousing chant of “WEL-COME BACK!”
With the time for lightweight craziness of historic proportions on tap, a civil war between the former Young Americans for the highest position in the sub-125 world on the line, the crowd is at a fever pitch.
With Ollie’s lovefest yet concluded, the house speakers interrupt with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
“DON’T TREAD ON ME":
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet, saluting crisply. The other 98 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in quite a different way.
While once upon a time this musical cue would spur a round of enthusiastic shouts and cheers for both her and the redhead in the ring, the crowd’s cascade of boos is deafening, the Young Americans’ Benedict Arnold being booed out of the building or more appropriately in this instance, into it.
The PA barely breaks through the jeers.
“And her opponent…the Lightweight Champion…hailing from Buffalo, NY; standing 5 feet 1 inch tall, and weighing in tonight at 118 scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE American... POLLY LOCKWOOD!”
Polly Lockwood...
The haters only get louder when the blonde hardbody strides confidently to center stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moves away from her forehead, Lockwood adds her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others recede.
Looking delighted, lightweight gold gracing her taut and tawny midriff, Lockwood waves at Olivia facetiously.
Polly’s wardrobe remains worthy of flag waving. The tiny blonde hardbody sports the former Young Americans’ standard uniform of hot pants and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American fails to wear Old Glory over her shoulders, Polly’s banner having been pilfered after last month’s humiliating post-match beatdown from that Confederate bytch, Ivy Armstrong.
Instead, Lockwood opts for a flag with a rattlesnake and the old chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ in its place. She spreads her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walks down the ramp and aisle. Lockwood growls at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood shrugs off her flag cum cape, draping it over her corner. She walks to the center of the ring, pulling a microphone to her lips.
“Oh Ollie,” Polly says through a sneer. “Back from the sticks, get a win, and your facing me for the title. Just exactly who did you blow?”
The FAWNatics make their disapproval obvious and loud.
“Or maybe Bethany just wants to set things up for the most drama. Sorry to break it to you, Red. But there ain’t no drama here. I kicked you to the curb. I got my gold. And next, I’m kicking your ass ALL OVER AGAIN.”
Lockwood tosses the stick to the canvas with a ‘CLUNK’, the ref snatching it off the canvas and handing it to a FAWN flunky on the sidelines while the True American demands Barker come out and take her ass kicking.
If Lockwood had thought Olivia wouldn't accept that invitation, the TRUE American turns out to be VERY mistaken. And while Polly might have always been known as the speed half of their championship union, the San Antonio Rose demonstrates surprising quickness in sprinting across the ring. Barker reaches Lockwood's corner before she can even think about trying to dip through the ropes, nearly eighteen months of frustration bubbling to the surface as she starts firing forearms.
The little blonde hardbody keeps her guard high, blocking nearly every forearm until the redhead sends a gutbusting uppercut into Lockwood's flat abdomen. Polly's blue eyes widen and her arms drop reflexively in response to stop another. But Barker instantly goes back to the top side and finds room for her forearms to SMASH into either jawline with left-right-left-right. Polly's blonde locks explode into the air as her head swings wildly from side to side. The FAWNatics shout out a 'YAY' for each strike until their voices go sore and Polly plops to a seat on the canvas, already looking shellshocked.
When Lockwood hits the deck, she falls out of the range of Olivia's fists and forearms--but not her feet. So Barker starts sending a barrage of boots to the Star Spangled Bytch's shoulders, chest and stomach, driving her one-time best friend deeper and deeper into the corner. But Polly IS in the corner, which means the referee finally steps in, wrapping an arm around the redhead's waist and pulling her away. Olivia STARTS to take a step back toward the corner when the official lets her go... but then, ANOTHER idea occurs to her. The San Antonio Rose retreats to the far corner, ready to lift a page from Lockwood's book and bust a traitorous bronco.
Polly's hands grip the bottom ropes loosely, her head bobbing from the brutal bombardment. Seemingly unaware of her surroundings, the champ tries to shake some senses back into place as Olivia bursts out of the opposite corner and races toward Lockwood. Again, Polly's baby blues look like they're about to bulge out of her face. She tries to rise in time but gets met halfway up. The first collision of crotch to chin and backside to chest forces Polly back down to a seat. Olivia quickly grabs the ropes on either side and gets to busting the blonde, her butt a battering ram that has the crowd going nuts and Polly looking like the world's hottest shock absorber. And what a shock it is when Olivia racks up a 20-spot under the official's good graces, Polly left a sputtering wreck underneath the haunches of her former partner barely a minute into the match.
As Barker climbs back to her feet, not only does she have her opponent a mass of boneless goo, the San Antonio Rose already has the crowd eating out of her hand. "OL-LIE! OL-LIE!" the FAWNatics chant, the redhead almost absently nodding her head along in time with them, before turning back to the reeling Lockwood. Grabbing the blonde's ankles, Olivia drags Polly out of the corner. But rather than dropping down for a cover, Barker tucks Polly's feet under her ankles. The challenger then gets ready to fall back, and launch the TRUE American with a catapult.
Her arms trailing above her as she's dragged to the center, the insensate titleholder slides along the mat. Olivia moves her grip to behind the blonde's knees. And Polly Rocket is forced into takeoff when Barker drops to her back. The smaller blonde is launched into the sky. Her arms windmill as Lockwood tries to backstroke her way out of trouble. But she paddles through air, not water, and her forehead SMASHES into the top buckle. Polly's noggin snaps back, the True American staggering away from the corner, drunkenly stumbling toward the center where a focused redhead awaits her onetime friend, arms wide.
And as the TRUE punch-drunk American staggers into range, Olivia dips into a slight crouch. Her arms move quickly, slipping around Lockwood's waist. And as Barker straightens up, her pythons begin to constrict. Olivia had strength for her size, but against her fellow lightweights, the San Antonio Rose could get VERY brawny--as she hoped to remind Polly, with a crushing bearhug.
Polly is the fly in the trap as the freckled redhead clamps shut around the Star Spangled Bytch. Olivia's biceps flex as she cinches tight around the tummy and back of the tawny blonde. Polly grunts and gulps hard. She tries to take a breath but it's cut short by another tightening of the noose around her collapsing abdominals. Lockwood's arms rise on either side of the redhead's temples, the champ ready to ring some ears and make her escape, but a shake and a rattle of the pocket-sized Rocket sends those arms back down and the chin of the blonde's loosened head onto Ollie's left shoulder, another constriction sending a gurgle through the blonde's lips.
Barker gives her dishrag of a former partner one good wringing for good measure, and then relaxes her grip, allowing the already glistening blonde to sag against her softer, more curvaceous frame. Olivia raises her left arm, nudging Lockwood's head underneath before clamping down tight. With her right hand, the San Antonio Rose secures a firm grip on the waistband of the Lightweight champ's waistband. Then, popping her hips, the redhead attempts to hoist Polly off her feet, hoping to get her suspended and into position to bust what little brains Lockwood might have.
But when Barker shifts and lifts Lockwood into the air, the flawless if abbreviated stems of the lightweight champion put a little more boost into the launching than Olivia had prepared to provide. It's too much for the redhead to control and instead of stopping at vertical, Lockwood flips all the way over, landing on her feet, if only for a moment. The battering she'd survived proves too much to stick the landing. Instead, the blonde hardbody collapses to her knees. Still, the Star Spangled Bytch knows she has to get out of the ring under any locomotion she can manage and the champ starts knee-walking her way toward the ropes, the True American retreating from the rampaging redhead.
And she NEARLY reaches the cables... only as she starts drop and roll, Olivia's fingers plunge into her hair. Lockwood offers an almost comedic, high pitched yelp as Barker tugs the blonde up to her feet, spinning her away from the ropes in the process. Once the TRUE American is vertical once more, Ollie releases her locks, her hand instead moving to claim Lockwood's wrist. With her new grip, blonde and redhead continue to spin in a fixed circle, Polly yipping a little louder and higher with each orbit. As they near completion of their third revolution, Olivia starts to whip Lockwood toward the far corner, planning to follow her in with a splash.
And off the vertically-challenged champion heads at a high rate of speed, the extra revolutions adding to her velocity as Lockwood's barely able to turn before SLAMMING into the buckles with incredible force. The impact sends a shudder through the taut frame of the Star Spangled Bytch, but it's nothing compared to when a quick-arriving and curvy redhead barrels toward her former partner and BURIES Polly under a sumptuous avalanche of Yankee goodness. Olivia remains pressed to the splattered, rubbery champion for a tick or two before stepping aside and letting Polly lurch forward a few steps, the crowd 'OHHHING' before Lockwood legs lock and she takes a full-on header to the canvas, the crowd erupting as Polly Patriot faceplants.
The San Antonio Rose sends Lockwood spilling to her back with a nudge of her boot, before shuffling into a standing straddle of the TRUE American at the waist. Barker quickly shifts from standing to kneeling, dropping to her knees and planting her backside heavily atop Polly's lap. Leaning forward, Olivia plants both palms atop Lockwood's gurls. It wouldn't be the most difficult of covers to kick out of, but it still sent a bit of a message--and it had the FAWNatics roaring in delight at Little Miss Benedict Arnold's comeuppance.
Clearly unprepared for the size of the fire lit under her former Young American counterpart, the deflated Lockwood struggles and squirms weakly under Ollie's pressing palms for...
ONE...
and TWO...
... but before three can come, Polly fights a shoulder up to the disappointment of the FAWNatics. The nails of her right hand shoot toward Barker's eyes, but the red intercepts, grabbing Lockwood at the wrist. "I know all about you Polly," Olivia chastises while stopping another similar attempt by Lockwood with her left set of talons. "But you don't know shyt about the San Antonio Rose," the redhead continues.
Holding both wrists tight, Olivia starts to push Polly's arms back down to the canvas, Lockwood's biceps trembling each inch of the way in resistance. Still, as strong as the TRUE American might be, her former partner proves stronger at the moment, and eventually the blonde finds her wrists pressed to the mat above her head--which has her shoulders AGAIN flat against the canvas.
ONE...
TWO...
With a determined grunt, Polly manages to shrug her right shoulder off the mat... for all of three seconds, before Barker presses it back down.
ONE...
TWO...
Lockwood gets her LEFT shoulder up this time, but can barely maintain it for two seconds before the challenger again forces her down.
ONE...
TWO...
This time Polly bridges away from a defeat at the hands of her former partner and the end of her second reign as lightweight champ. Balanced on the crown of her head and her boots, with Barker atop her curved tummy, the smaller blonde huffs in effort to keep Ollie from flattening her back to the canvas. Barker finds herself unable to break the arch of the little blonde hardbody beneath her. Instead, she starts to back down the torso and legs of the champ, setting her boots to the canvas. As she does, the True American pops her legs into the air and they snap shut around the noggin of the redhead. Polly flexes the sinew in her tanned thighs, even as she starts to drape down the rising length of the San Antonio Rose.
Once Lockwood's thighs go to work, it's not long before Olivia's cheek begin to match the color of her locks. But the determined challenger STILL continues to work her way up to her feet. Barker secures a renewed grip on both of Polly's wrists, a particularly emphatic pulse of the champ's scissors enough to send a tremor through the stems of the San Antonio Rose. It wouldn't be long before Lockwood's leg strength would overwhelm her. Olivia understood that all too well. Knowing time is of the essence, Barker starts to pull up on Polly's arms, hoping to lift her former partner into the stall position, and introduce her to the Texas Twister.
TEXAS TWISTER @0:08:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nsQ4ZorsjU
Lockwood shakes her head in disbelief, hurriedly flexing her legs for as much as they're worth, trying to end the remarkable display of the reborn Rose. But it's simply no use for the Star Spangled Bytch, Polly ending HIGH on Olivia's shoulders. With her former friend seated just where she wanted, Barker spins in a tight circle to gain even more momentum and impact and the effect is spectacular. The busty redhead rotates and sits out POWERBOMBING Polly into the deck with prejudice, the lithe blonde bouncing from the impact between Ollie's extended legs. The women settle, Barker on her ass, Polly on her back, lights turned out by the Texas Twister for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENNOO!
The San Antonio Rose rises to one knee, straddling the obliterated blonde at the waist as she looks to the referee. "You sure?" she asks, sporting a sly grin.
"'Fraid so, Ollie. I mean... I suuuuuuppppose no one would mind me fast-counting her, but..."
Barker shakes her head. "Don't sweat it," she says, leaning forward and plunging her left hand into Lockwood's damp locks. "I wouldn't WANT to beat her that way." Pulling the Lightweight champ up to a seat, Olivia suddenly pushes against the back of Polly's noggin, sending the Star Spangled Bytch's mug shooting toward her cleavage. "But I wouldn't mind winning THIS way!" she says, first to the official before posing a question to the FAWNatics. "HOW 'BOUT YOU GUYS? WANNA SEE ME JUGG OUT LITTLE MISS BENEDICT ARNOLD?"
There likely isn't a single person in the house who doesn't shout out 'YES', except Polly who instead could only offer a muffled squeaks and shouts, her air passages buried in the redhead's cleavage, baby blues exploding out of their sockets in sheer panic just over the curves of Ollie's chest. There is no anger or frustration now for Lockwood. Only dyed in the wool fear of what is perilously close to happening. The blonde hardbody tries to swing her noggin from side to side in desperation, but the redhead's clasp is too tight. Her lids flutter, the crowd going wild with every second the champ remains under, the FAWNatics reveling in every karmic second as Polly melts like a heated marshmallow in Olivia's grip. With very few combinations left to open this lock, Lockwood turns her right set of talons up and curved and goes for the juncture of Ollie's thighs.
And now it's Ollie, whose eyes go wide as saucers, her jaw falling slack in a silent scream... though, for a moment at least, neither the ref nor the crowd seem able to spot the exact cause of Barker's distress. Finally, the curvaceous redhead's voice emerges. The first sound to push past her lips is something of a high pitched whimper, but then the challenger manages to string together a few syllables. "Oh... no... you don't... bytch..." The tremor in her voice grows more pronounced with each word, the stubbornness of her will and her hatred for her onetime best friend in direct opposition with her fading body. The FAWNatics encourage her to hold on just a little longer, certain that Polly couldn't remain conscious with her face wedged snuggly between Ollie's girls much longer... but gradually, Barker's fingers begin to relax as the urge to move her hands from offense to defense begins to grow irresistible.
And when the distressed blonde feels some slack given, she pushes away for the fleshy prison with her opposite hand, more than ready to give up her underhanded grip to breathe. The greasy-faced champ flops to her side, gasping in giant inhales. She side crawls a couple feet away before oxygen deprivation gets the better of Lockwood and she stops to draw in more. Rolling up to all fours, Polly chokes in more air, her head drooping, some of collected humidity of Ollie's gurls on her face dripping off the end of her adorable nose.
Just a few feet away, Olivia chokes back the tiniest of sobs as she pushes up to her feet. The redhead marches over toward Polly, her former partner now perhaps free, but still looking worse for wear following the front sleeper.. There remains a decided hitch to Barker's stride, but still she reaches the champ and yanks her up with a handful of hair. Now more determined than ever to extract a little vengeance on the traitor, Barker drags her by her mane to the near corner, smashing her face into the top turnbuckle once before spinning Lockwood's back to the buckles. The San Antonio Rose then climbs to the middle rope, a boot alongside each of Polly's hips, her left hand still tight in the Star Spangled Bytch's tresses. Balling her right hand into a fist, the FAWNatics are quick to start counting as Olivia begins firing punches down into the blonde's greasy mug.
"ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVUUUUUUNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHH...."
At that moment, Lockwood's hands rise, her palms thrusting into Barker's bosom with a surprisingly forceful push--enough to lift Olivia into the air as she's sent away from the corner. And, as she descends, Polly swings her right foot into the air, her boot splitting the San Antonio Rose's stems and BLASTING into her tenderized crotch. With a feeble wail, Olivia crumples the rest of the way to the canvas and immediately curls into a fetal ball, the crowd needing a moment to recover from their sympathy pains before unloading their displeasure on the Star Spangled Bytch.
The True American couldn't care less. To see Barker on the mat in front of her is a rare enough sight tonight her heart skips a beat, realizing control is hers to claim. She pushes past the weariness and drops a knee into the redhead's ribs, drawing a pained groan from Ollie. "Did you forget who wears the pants, slut?" Polly growls. She sinks her nails into the auburn locks and tugs a still debilitated Barker up to stooped feet. "You're best isn't near enough." Polly tucks Olivia's head under her right shoulder, wrenching her former partner's neck in a side headlock. Lockwood surges toward the nearest corner, tugging Olivia along for the ride. Reaching the buckles, Polly races up one side and pushes off with her boots when reaching the top, hoping to make a successful 180, land on her taut tush and hit The Rose with a big time bulldog.
Ollie can't even think about trying to lift her arms to push Polly off--every single ounce of her strength needed to keep her legs from giving out from under her. In the end, though, that might have ended in a better fashion for the San Antonio Rose, if she had crumpled to her knees. Instead, Lockwood vaults herself off the top rope, swinging around Barker's slumped frame before pulling the redhead down to the canvas, SMASHING Ollie's face into the mat. The impact sends the buxom former tag champ flopping over to her back, arms and legs splayed.
The blonde, however, uses her taut derriere to bounce directly to her feet. Looking re-energized, she puts a boot to Olivia's side then decides to do two better, leaping into the air above Barker's chest and mushroom STOMPING both of the redhead's gurls flat or as flat as they ever could be. Ollie yelps in pain, the sound becoming more high-pitched when Polly rubs the soles of her boots against the thinly-covered, tender tissue. Smirk finally re-emerging, Polly hops off her curvy carpet and heads for the corner she's just evacuated. She heads to the top and rises to a stance looking out on the FAWNatics. "You un-American slobs. Thomas Jefferson would be ashamed!" With that, Polly launches into a soaring backflip, her tummy headed toward Ollie's, the champ hoping to gut the challenger with the red glare of rocket-like moonsault.
At least one wiseguy tries to respond to Polly's admonition by starting a chant in honor of John Adams, but nothing comes to it this far south of Boston. Meanwhile, the so-called TRUE American sails toward the heavens--nearly high enough to ask our esteemed third President about the Louisiana Purchase. Navigating the air in a graceful flip, Lockwood's belly SPLASHES down across Olivia's, the San Antonio Rose folding up across her former tag partner. Polly doesn't waste any time hooking both legs, and the official slides into place, somewhat reluctantly slapping off the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Barker gets a shoulder up.
Lockwood forces a smile through a slight grimace as she rubs her tanned belly. But what the champ feels is nothing to the damage she's caused. Olivia is folded and heaving from her blasted midriff. "Always were soft," the patriot admonishes. The insult draws a determined grunt from the redhead and she struggles to rise. Meanwhile, Lockwood moves to the ropes and slides through, ready to partake in some taunting of the fans. She lets the Florida Communist Party have it with both barrels as behind her Barker rises and catches an extra breath. Amazingly, she's quickly off at a full bouncy sprint toward Polly, who as if on cue, turns as she dips, grabs the middle rope, and launches herself toward Ollie's already destroyed gut with her Lockwood Lunge.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bX4B0_6k_rM
The voluptuous redhead only has enough time to slam on the brakes, but not to change direction, and Olivia ends up skidding into the high speed projectile that is Polly's shoulder. Aided by the spring of the ropes, Lockwood's star spangled spear BLASTS into Barker's midriff, the San Antonio Rose folding across the invasive shoulder. Blonde and brunette then hit the deck, one-hundred and eighteen pounds of sculpted TRUE American driving her heavier adversary nearly through the mat with surprising force.
Polly rises above the splattered Barker then thinks better of letting the opportunity pass. Instead she leaps into the air to come down across Barker's belly in a simple but 'cherry-on-top' crossbody splash that jackknifes the impaled Ollie. The curvy auburn-haired grappler settles to a starfish under the rampaging champ for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The San Antonio Rose gets another shoulder up, a tick slower this time, Polly hardly dislodged from atop her. Still, the winded redhead manages to roll over onto her right hip, gamely trying to work her way out from underneath the Star Spangled Bytch.
Polly leaps to her feet as if electrified. She goes toe to toe, looking up at the zebra, all Tea Party lunatic, breathing fire. "I had that you...you...socialist. Three. You know...after one and two." Lockwood shoves the buffoon and runs both hands through wild, honey blonde locks. "I swear. Deport 'em all."
With Olivia softly groaning, stirring and rolling to her chest, the light bulb over Polly's head clears away the psychic gloom. Lockwood heads for the penthouse one more time. Quickly clambering to her familiar perch, the True American turns this time with Ollie just starting to push toward all fours. If a Lunge was good how could a Leap not be better? And Polly vaults heavenward, or the Orlando equivalent, her body tucking tight as it reaches its zenith before getting all froggy on the way down, Lockwood looking to land her Leap.
A near breathless, groaning Olivia starts to crawl away, but her progress is slow... and Polly has factored it into her flightplan. Coming out of her tuck, Lockwood's belly strikes Barker's back with a meaty "THWAAAP', the TRUE American's weight driving her foe back to the mat. Olivia finds her stomach and juggs viciously smoooshed underneath her, thanks to a woman once as close to her as a sister. Barker moans softly, her lungs enflamed thanks to the continued diminished oxygen under Polly's assault. As the Star Spangled Bytch bounces up to her knees, a gasping Olivia tries to drag herself toward the ropes--'tries' being the operative word.
"Yeah. This is the loser I remember," Polly says, placing a domineering boot on Olivia's ass. "San Antonio Rose?! Nuh uh. SAN ANTONIO BLOWS!"
The blonde removes her shoe leather and reaches down to pluck Olivia off the canvas. Getting Barker to her feet, she spins Olivia to face away from her with a shove and comes at the curvy grappler, arms extended. The limbs slip under and around Ollie's, Polly hoping to link her fingers in a full nelson, lift the overmatched Young American and deliver her to the mat with the biggest Patriot Driver the most pathetic excuse of an American ever deserved.
PATRIOT DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=13lIpxRgWck
Olivia begins to shake her head--a far cry from the force of nature she'd been in the early going, that is now the extent of the resistance she can offer. And it is nowhere near enough. The TRUE American muscles her slightly larger foe off her feet, breaking the nelson only when she pivots to the side, SLAMMING the San Antonio Rose down to her back. But the back of Barker's skull also crashes wickedly against the thinly padded plywood, Ollie's eyes drifting crossways for a moment before her eyelid's shutter closed--a detail that escapes the notice of everyone but Polly, kneeling beside her with a satisfied smirk.
But instead of going for the pin, the True American rises to her feet and strolls to her corner to gather up her flag. Raising it high and stretching it wide, she approaches the splayed, semiconscious Ollie. "Truer words were never sewn!" Polly shouts to the back row. The crowd responds with a few well-chosen words of their own that only grow louder when Polly places the flag like a shroud over the spreadeagled redhead. She sensually slithers atop the demolished Barker in a full body pin, Lockwood nose to nose and chest to chest with the body beneath.
"Count!"
A stunned official slides next to the unique pin and slaps the mat for the...
ONE...
TWO...
The only sign of movement from underneath the flag is an almost imperceptible one, as the smallest of gasps from the plucked San Antonio Rose draws a brief patch of cloth ever so slightly into mouth. Needless to say, that is HARDLY enough to stave of the inevitable...
THREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer declares, following the bell, "your winner, via pinfall... and STILL FAWN Lightweight Champion... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!"
The FAWNatics are anything but overjoyed, while the referee reaches through the ropes to accept the TRUE American's title from a ringside staffer.
The official moves to Polly and grabs a wrist, using it to tug the delighted if depleted Lockwood off her former partner. Before Polly can throw her next fit, she's handed the lightweight gold and that soothes the savage breast. "Ya suppose she knows now!" Polly shouts. "I'm not so sure," she says with a wicked chuckle before pushing the ref away.
Placing the gold around her waist and snapping the belt in place, Polly heads for her familiar stomping grounds, a top buckle. With her fortified tummy, it doesn't take a genius to know she has one more splash in mind to provide Olivia some broken ribs and relieve her of any idea of trying to face Polly again. "Say it with me now," she yells. "I pledge allegiance to Polly!" then leaps toward the covered Ollie.
Perhaps surprisingly, a few voices to chime in with the triumphant blonde--not many, to be sure. Certainly not more than the masses remaining loyal to Lockwood's former partner. Not that they do Olivia much good at the moment. If she HAD regained any of her senses since the tolling of the bell, it's impossible to tell with the yellow flag covering every curvaceous inch of her... which also means that, even if she has been roused at all, she is unable to see the flying Star Spangled Bytch descending toward her. Polly lands one parting splash, this one gold-reinforced...
... and at last there's a sign of life from Barker, in the form of a loud, "gyyyuuuuUUUUUNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Polly bounces off the remains of her former partner and former threat. She contains a grimace as she rises and places a boot on the shrouded curvy frame of the beaten Barker, Polly shouting as loudly as she can manage "U...S...ME!"
At this point, not everyone in the crowd knew exactly WHO would be challenging for that belt tonight--but any enemy of Polly Lockwood is friend of the FAWNatics, leading to a rousing cheer as the man in the suit continues...
“Introducing first, she hails from San Antonio in the great state of Texas. She stands 5 feet 3 inches tall, and tips the scales tonight at 124lbs... Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the forever Young American...”
His voice trails off for a moment, before tacking on the words that send the crowd absolutely through the roof...
“... and your NEXT Lightweight champion... OLLLIIIVVVIIIAAA BAAARRRKKKEEERRR!!!!!”
Olivia Barker...
With the Young Americans union forever consigned to history, the buxom redhead needed her own identity. The first trappings become apparent when the arena’s sound system comes to life. Gone is Metallica, and in its place is Train... yet a sly nod to the old Ollie, and possibly a dig at the new Polly, remains. As “All-American Girl” pumps over the speakers, Barker bursts through the curtains...
“ALL-AMERICAN GIRL”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIzpabHe3Ok
Again, gone are the hot pants and the bikini top. Two pieces have been replaced by one, though the plunging neckline still reveals plenty of Olivia’s ample cleavage. Now, Barker spots gear modeled after the flag of her native San Antonio: blue on the right side, red on the left, with a white star emblazoned across the midriff, which contains an illustration of the Alamo in its center. The pads and boots on Olivia’s right side are blue, the ones on the left red.
Delighted to be back on Pay Per View for the first time since her former partner had defeated her over a year ago, Barker is all smiles as she takes the time to slap as many hands as she can on the way to the ring, then doing a full lap and a half around the immediate ringside area. Barker takes the steps two at a time, turning her back to the ropes and pumping a fist to the masses--which is met with another thunderous cheer--and a rousing chant of “WEL-COME BACK!”
With the time for lightweight craziness of historic proportions on tap, a civil war between the former Young Americans for the highest position in the sub-125 world on the line, the crowd is at a fever pitch.
With Ollie’s lovefest yet concluded, the house speakers interrupt with the pounding of Metallica’s “Don’t Tread on Me”.
“DON’T TREAD ON ME":
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPl2sTo_8-o
A few scattered ‘Polly Patriots’ shoot to their feet, saluting crisply. The other 98 percent of the FAWNatics make themselves known in quite a different way.
While once upon a time this musical cue would spur a round of enthusiastic shouts and cheers for both her and the redhead in the ring, the crowd’s cascade of boos is deafening, the Young Americans’ Benedict Arnold being booed out of the building or more appropriately in this instance, into it.
The PA barely breaks through the jeers.
“And her opponent…the Lightweight Champion…hailing from Buffalo, NY; standing 5 feet 1 inch tall, and weighing in tonight at 118 scintillating pounds of All-American Awesome. Ladies and gentlemen, she is the one and only TRUE American... POLLY LOCKWOOD!”
Polly Lockwood...
The haters only get louder when the blonde hardbody strides confidently to center stage, bringing a salute to her brow. When the hand, fashioned into a knife-edge, moves away from her forehead, Lockwood adds her own little twist, a middle finger remaining straight while the others recede.
Looking delighted, lightweight gold gracing her taut and tawny midriff, Lockwood waves at Olivia facetiously.
Polly’s wardrobe remains worthy of flag waving. The tiny blonde hardbody sports the former Young Americans’ standard uniform of hot pants and bikini top. Polly alternates her country’s colors between a shiny, eye catching blue topside, white stars prominently placed in just the right spots, and shimmering red and white stripes below; with white pads and boots capping off the ensemble.
The True American fails to wear Old Glory over her shoulders, Polly’s banner having been pilfered after last month’s humiliating post-match beatdown from that Confederate bytch, Ivy Armstrong.
Instead, Lockwood opts for a flag with a rattlesnake and the old chestnut ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ in its place. She spreads her arms wide, showing off the dangerous serpent as she walks down the ramp and aisle. Lockwood growls at the moronic hordes, ignoring the insults and the jeers.
Reaching the ring, the patriot ascends the steel steps. Sliding through the ropes, Lockwood shrugs off her flag cum cape, draping it over her corner. She walks to the center of the ring, pulling a microphone to her lips.
“Oh Ollie,” Polly says through a sneer. “Back from the sticks, get a win, and your facing me for the title. Just exactly who did you blow?”
The FAWNatics make their disapproval obvious and loud.
“Or maybe Bethany just wants to set things up for the most drama. Sorry to break it to you, Red. But there ain’t no drama here. I kicked you to the curb. I got my gold. And next, I’m kicking your ass ALL OVER AGAIN.”
Lockwood tosses the stick to the canvas with a ‘CLUNK’, the ref snatching it off the canvas and handing it to a FAWN flunky on the sidelines while the True American demands Barker come out and take her ass kicking.
If Lockwood had thought Olivia wouldn't accept that invitation, the TRUE American turns out to be VERY mistaken. And while Polly might have always been known as the speed half of their championship union, the San Antonio Rose demonstrates surprising quickness in sprinting across the ring. Barker reaches Lockwood's corner before she can even think about trying to dip through the ropes, nearly eighteen months of frustration bubbling to the surface as she starts firing forearms.
The little blonde hardbody keeps her guard high, blocking nearly every forearm until the redhead sends a gutbusting uppercut into Lockwood's flat abdomen. Polly's blue eyes widen and her arms drop reflexively in response to stop another. But Barker instantly goes back to the top side and finds room for her forearms to SMASH into either jawline with left-right-left-right. Polly's blonde locks explode into the air as her head swings wildly from side to side. The FAWNatics shout out a 'YAY' for each strike until their voices go sore and Polly plops to a seat on the canvas, already looking shellshocked.
When Lockwood hits the deck, she falls out of the range of Olivia's fists and forearms--but not her feet. So Barker starts sending a barrage of boots to the Star Spangled Bytch's shoulders, chest and stomach, driving her one-time best friend deeper and deeper into the corner. But Polly IS in the corner, which means the referee finally steps in, wrapping an arm around the redhead's waist and pulling her away. Olivia STARTS to take a step back toward the corner when the official lets her go... but then, ANOTHER idea occurs to her. The San Antonio Rose retreats to the far corner, ready to lift a page from Lockwood's book and bust a traitorous bronco.
Polly's hands grip the bottom ropes loosely, her head bobbing from the brutal bombardment. Seemingly unaware of her surroundings, the champ tries to shake some senses back into place as Olivia bursts out of the opposite corner and races toward Lockwood. Again, Polly's baby blues look like they're about to bulge out of her face. She tries to rise in time but gets met halfway up. The first collision of crotch to chin and backside to chest forces Polly back down to a seat. Olivia quickly grabs the ropes on either side and gets to busting the blonde, her butt a battering ram that has the crowd going nuts and Polly looking like the world's hottest shock absorber. And what a shock it is when Olivia racks up a 20-spot under the official's good graces, Polly left a sputtering wreck underneath the haunches of her former partner barely a minute into the match.
As Barker climbs back to her feet, not only does she have her opponent a mass of boneless goo, the San Antonio Rose already has the crowd eating out of her hand. "OL-LIE! OL-LIE!" the FAWNatics chant, the redhead almost absently nodding her head along in time with them, before turning back to the reeling Lockwood. Grabbing the blonde's ankles, Olivia drags Polly out of the corner. But rather than dropping down for a cover, Barker tucks Polly's feet under her ankles. The challenger then gets ready to fall back, and launch the TRUE American with a catapult.
Her arms trailing above her as she's dragged to the center, the insensate titleholder slides along the mat. Olivia moves her grip to behind the blonde's knees. And Polly Rocket is forced into takeoff when Barker drops to her back. The smaller blonde is launched into the sky. Her arms windmill as Lockwood tries to backstroke her way out of trouble. But she paddles through air, not water, and her forehead SMASHES into the top buckle. Polly's noggin snaps back, the True American staggering away from the corner, drunkenly stumbling toward the center where a focused redhead awaits her onetime friend, arms wide.
And as the TRUE punch-drunk American staggers into range, Olivia dips into a slight crouch. Her arms move quickly, slipping around Lockwood's waist. And as Barker straightens up, her pythons begin to constrict. Olivia had strength for her size, but against her fellow lightweights, the San Antonio Rose could get VERY brawny--as she hoped to remind Polly, with a crushing bearhug.
Polly is the fly in the trap as the freckled redhead clamps shut around the Star Spangled Bytch. Olivia's biceps flex as she cinches tight around the tummy and back of the tawny blonde. Polly grunts and gulps hard. She tries to take a breath but it's cut short by another tightening of the noose around her collapsing abdominals. Lockwood's arms rise on either side of the redhead's temples, the champ ready to ring some ears and make her escape, but a shake and a rattle of the pocket-sized Rocket sends those arms back down and the chin of the blonde's loosened head onto Ollie's left shoulder, another constriction sending a gurgle through the blonde's lips.
Barker gives her dishrag of a former partner one good wringing for good measure, and then relaxes her grip, allowing the already glistening blonde to sag against her softer, more curvaceous frame. Olivia raises her left arm, nudging Lockwood's head underneath before clamping down tight. With her right hand, the San Antonio Rose secures a firm grip on the waistband of the Lightweight champ's waistband. Then, popping her hips, the redhead attempts to hoist Polly off her feet, hoping to get her suspended and into position to bust what little brains Lockwood might have.
But when Barker shifts and lifts Lockwood into the air, the flawless if abbreviated stems of the lightweight champion put a little more boost into the launching than Olivia had prepared to provide. It's too much for the redhead to control and instead of stopping at vertical, Lockwood flips all the way over, landing on her feet, if only for a moment. The battering she'd survived proves too much to stick the landing. Instead, the blonde hardbody collapses to her knees. Still, the Star Spangled Bytch knows she has to get out of the ring under any locomotion she can manage and the champ starts knee-walking her way toward the ropes, the True American retreating from the rampaging redhead.
And she NEARLY reaches the cables... only as she starts drop and roll, Olivia's fingers plunge into her hair. Lockwood offers an almost comedic, high pitched yelp as Barker tugs the blonde up to her feet, spinning her away from the ropes in the process. Once the TRUE American is vertical once more, Ollie releases her locks, her hand instead moving to claim Lockwood's wrist. With her new grip, blonde and redhead continue to spin in a fixed circle, Polly yipping a little louder and higher with each orbit. As they near completion of their third revolution, Olivia starts to whip Lockwood toward the far corner, planning to follow her in with a splash.
And off the vertically-challenged champion heads at a high rate of speed, the extra revolutions adding to her velocity as Lockwood's barely able to turn before SLAMMING into the buckles with incredible force. The impact sends a shudder through the taut frame of the Star Spangled Bytch, but it's nothing compared to when a quick-arriving and curvy redhead barrels toward her former partner and BURIES Polly under a sumptuous avalanche of Yankee goodness. Olivia remains pressed to the splattered, rubbery champion for a tick or two before stepping aside and letting Polly lurch forward a few steps, the crowd 'OHHHING' before Lockwood legs lock and she takes a full-on header to the canvas, the crowd erupting as Polly Patriot faceplants.
The San Antonio Rose sends Lockwood spilling to her back with a nudge of her boot, before shuffling into a standing straddle of the TRUE American at the waist. Barker quickly shifts from standing to kneeling, dropping to her knees and planting her backside heavily atop Polly's lap. Leaning forward, Olivia plants both palms atop Lockwood's gurls. It wouldn't be the most difficult of covers to kick out of, but it still sent a bit of a message--and it had the FAWNatics roaring in delight at Little Miss Benedict Arnold's comeuppance.
Clearly unprepared for the size of the fire lit under her former Young American counterpart, the deflated Lockwood struggles and squirms weakly under Ollie's pressing palms for...
ONE...
and TWO...
... but before three can come, Polly fights a shoulder up to the disappointment of the FAWNatics. The nails of her right hand shoot toward Barker's eyes, but the red intercepts, grabbing Lockwood at the wrist. "I know all about you Polly," Olivia chastises while stopping another similar attempt by Lockwood with her left set of talons. "But you don't know shyt about the San Antonio Rose," the redhead continues.
Holding both wrists tight, Olivia starts to push Polly's arms back down to the canvas, Lockwood's biceps trembling each inch of the way in resistance. Still, as strong as the TRUE American might be, her former partner proves stronger at the moment, and eventually the blonde finds her wrists pressed to the mat above her head--which has her shoulders AGAIN flat against the canvas.
ONE...
TWO...
With a determined grunt, Polly manages to shrug her right shoulder off the mat... for all of three seconds, before Barker presses it back down.
ONE...
TWO...
Lockwood gets her LEFT shoulder up this time, but can barely maintain it for two seconds before the challenger again forces her down.
ONE...
TWO...
This time Polly bridges away from a defeat at the hands of her former partner and the end of her second reign as lightweight champ. Balanced on the crown of her head and her boots, with Barker atop her curved tummy, the smaller blonde huffs in effort to keep Ollie from flattening her back to the canvas. Barker finds herself unable to break the arch of the little blonde hardbody beneath her. Instead, she starts to back down the torso and legs of the champ, setting her boots to the canvas. As she does, the True American pops her legs into the air and they snap shut around the noggin of the redhead. Polly flexes the sinew in her tanned thighs, even as she starts to drape down the rising length of the San Antonio Rose.
Once Lockwood's thighs go to work, it's not long before Olivia's cheek begin to match the color of her locks. But the determined challenger STILL continues to work her way up to her feet. Barker secures a renewed grip on both of Polly's wrists, a particularly emphatic pulse of the champ's scissors enough to send a tremor through the stems of the San Antonio Rose. It wouldn't be long before Lockwood's leg strength would overwhelm her. Olivia understood that all too well. Knowing time is of the essence, Barker starts to pull up on Polly's arms, hoping to lift her former partner into the stall position, and introduce her to the Texas Twister.
TEXAS TWISTER @0:08:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nsQ4ZorsjU
Lockwood shakes her head in disbelief, hurriedly flexing her legs for as much as they're worth, trying to end the remarkable display of the reborn Rose. But it's simply no use for the Star Spangled Bytch, Polly ending HIGH on Olivia's shoulders. With her former friend seated just where she wanted, Barker spins in a tight circle to gain even more momentum and impact and the effect is spectacular. The busty redhead rotates and sits out POWERBOMBING Polly into the deck with prejudice, the lithe blonde bouncing from the impact between Ollie's extended legs. The women settle, Barker on her ass, Polly on her back, lights turned out by the Texas Twister for...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENNOO!
The San Antonio Rose rises to one knee, straddling the obliterated blonde at the waist as she looks to the referee. "You sure?" she asks, sporting a sly grin.
"'Fraid so, Ollie. I mean... I suuuuuuppppose no one would mind me fast-counting her, but..."
Barker shakes her head. "Don't sweat it," she says, leaning forward and plunging her left hand into Lockwood's damp locks. "I wouldn't WANT to beat her that way." Pulling the Lightweight champ up to a seat, Olivia suddenly pushes against the back of Polly's noggin, sending the Star Spangled Bytch's mug shooting toward her cleavage. "But I wouldn't mind winning THIS way!" she says, first to the official before posing a question to the FAWNatics. "HOW 'BOUT YOU GUYS? WANNA SEE ME JUGG OUT LITTLE MISS BENEDICT ARNOLD?"
There likely isn't a single person in the house who doesn't shout out 'YES', except Polly who instead could only offer a muffled squeaks and shouts, her air passages buried in the redhead's cleavage, baby blues exploding out of their sockets in sheer panic just over the curves of Ollie's chest. There is no anger or frustration now for Lockwood. Only dyed in the wool fear of what is perilously close to happening. The blonde hardbody tries to swing her noggin from side to side in desperation, but the redhead's clasp is too tight. Her lids flutter, the crowd going wild with every second the champ remains under, the FAWNatics reveling in every karmic second as Polly melts like a heated marshmallow in Olivia's grip. With very few combinations left to open this lock, Lockwood turns her right set of talons up and curved and goes for the juncture of Ollie's thighs.
And now it's Ollie, whose eyes go wide as saucers, her jaw falling slack in a silent scream... though, for a moment at least, neither the ref nor the crowd seem able to spot the exact cause of Barker's distress. Finally, the curvaceous redhead's voice emerges. The first sound to push past her lips is something of a high pitched whimper, but then the challenger manages to string together a few syllables. "Oh... no... you don't... bytch..." The tremor in her voice grows more pronounced with each word, the stubbornness of her will and her hatred for her onetime best friend in direct opposition with her fading body. The FAWNatics encourage her to hold on just a little longer, certain that Polly couldn't remain conscious with her face wedged snuggly between Ollie's girls much longer... but gradually, Barker's fingers begin to relax as the urge to move her hands from offense to defense begins to grow irresistible.
And when the distressed blonde feels some slack given, she pushes away for the fleshy prison with her opposite hand, more than ready to give up her underhanded grip to breathe. The greasy-faced champ flops to her side, gasping in giant inhales. She side crawls a couple feet away before oxygen deprivation gets the better of Lockwood and she stops to draw in more. Rolling up to all fours, Polly chokes in more air, her head drooping, some of collected humidity of Ollie's gurls on her face dripping off the end of her adorable nose.
Just a few feet away, Olivia chokes back the tiniest of sobs as she pushes up to her feet. The redhead marches over toward Polly, her former partner now perhaps free, but still looking worse for wear following the front sleeper.. There remains a decided hitch to Barker's stride, but still she reaches the champ and yanks her up with a handful of hair. Now more determined than ever to extract a little vengeance on the traitor, Barker drags her by her mane to the near corner, smashing her face into the top turnbuckle once before spinning Lockwood's back to the buckles. The San Antonio Rose then climbs to the middle rope, a boot alongside each of Polly's hips, her left hand still tight in the Star Spangled Bytch's tresses. Balling her right hand into a fist, the FAWNatics are quick to start counting as Olivia begins firing punches down into the blonde's greasy mug.
"ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SEVUUUUUUNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHH...."
At that moment, Lockwood's hands rise, her palms thrusting into Barker's bosom with a surprisingly forceful push--enough to lift Olivia into the air as she's sent away from the corner. And, as she descends, Polly swings her right foot into the air, her boot splitting the San Antonio Rose's stems and BLASTING into her tenderized crotch. With a feeble wail, Olivia crumples the rest of the way to the canvas and immediately curls into a fetal ball, the crowd needing a moment to recover from their sympathy pains before unloading their displeasure on the Star Spangled Bytch.
The True American couldn't care less. To see Barker on the mat in front of her is a rare enough sight tonight her heart skips a beat, realizing control is hers to claim. She pushes past the weariness and drops a knee into the redhead's ribs, drawing a pained groan from Ollie. "Did you forget who wears the pants, slut?" Polly growls. She sinks her nails into the auburn locks and tugs a still debilitated Barker up to stooped feet. "You're best isn't near enough." Polly tucks Olivia's head under her right shoulder, wrenching her former partner's neck in a side headlock. Lockwood surges toward the nearest corner, tugging Olivia along for the ride. Reaching the buckles, Polly races up one side and pushes off with her boots when reaching the top, hoping to make a successful 180, land on her taut tush and hit The Rose with a big time bulldog.
Ollie can't even think about trying to lift her arms to push Polly off--every single ounce of her strength needed to keep her legs from giving out from under her. In the end, though, that might have ended in a better fashion for the San Antonio Rose, if she had crumpled to her knees. Instead, Lockwood vaults herself off the top rope, swinging around Barker's slumped frame before pulling the redhead down to the canvas, SMASHING Ollie's face into the mat. The impact sends the buxom former tag champ flopping over to her back, arms and legs splayed.
The blonde, however, uses her taut derriere to bounce directly to her feet. Looking re-energized, she puts a boot to Olivia's side then decides to do two better, leaping into the air above Barker's chest and mushroom STOMPING both of the redhead's gurls flat or as flat as they ever could be. Ollie yelps in pain, the sound becoming more high-pitched when Polly rubs the soles of her boots against the thinly-covered, tender tissue. Smirk finally re-emerging, Polly hops off her curvy carpet and heads for the corner she's just evacuated. She heads to the top and rises to a stance looking out on the FAWNatics. "You un-American slobs. Thomas Jefferson would be ashamed!" With that, Polly launches into a soaring backflip, her tummy headed toward Ollie's, the champ hoping to gut the challenger with the red glare of rocket-like moonsault.
At least one wiseguy tries to respond to Polly's admonition by starting a chant in honor of John Adams, but nothing comes to it this far south of Boston. Meanwhile, the so-called TRUE American sails toward the heavens--nearly high enough to ask our esteemed third President about the Louisiana Purchase. Navigating the air in a graceful flip, Lockwood's belly SPLASHES down across Olivia's, the San Antonio Rose folding up across her former tag partner. Polly doesn't waste any time hooking both legs, and the official slides into place, somewhat reluctantly slapping off the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Barker gets a shoulder up.
Lockwood forces a smile through a slight grimace as she rubs her tanned belly. But what the champ feels is nothing to the damage she's caused. Olivia is folded and heaving from her blasted midriff. "Always were soft," the patriot admonishes. The insult draws a determined grunt from the redhead and she struggles to rise. Meanwhile, Lockwood moves to the ropes and slides through, ready to partake in some taunting of the fans. She lets the Florida Communist Party have it with both barrels as behind her Barker rises and catches an extra breath. Amazingly, she's quickly off at a full bouncy sprint toward Polly, who as if on cue, turns as she dips, grabs the middle rope, and launches herself toward Ollie's already destroyed gut with her Lockwood Lunge.
LOCKWOOD LUNGE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=bX4B0_6k_rM
The voluptuous redhead only has enough time to slam on the brakes, but not to change direction, and Olivia ends up skidding into the high speed projectile that is Polly's shoulder. Aided by the spring of the ropes, Lockwood's star spangled spear BLASTS into Barker's midriff, the San Antonio Rose folding across the invasive shoulder. Blonde and brunette then hit the deck, one-hundred and eighteen pounds of sculpted TRUE American driving her heavier adversary nearly through the mat with surprising force.
Polly rises above the splattered Barker then thinks better of letting the opportunity pass. Instead she leaps into the air to come down across Barker's belly in a simple but 'cherry-on-top' crossbody splash that jackknifes the impaled Ollie. The curvy auburn-haired grappler settles to a starfish under the rampaging champ for the...
ONE...
TWO...
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The San Antonio Rose gets another shoulder up, a tick slower this time, Polly hardly dislodged from atop her. Still, the winded redhead manages to roll over onto her right hip, gamely trying to work her way out from underneath the Star Spangled Bytch.
Polly leaps to her feet as if electrified. She goes toe to toe, looking up at the zebra, all Tea Party lunatic, breathing fire. "I had that you...you...socialist. Three. You know...after one and two." Lockwood shoves the buffoon and runs both hands through wild, honey blonde locks. "I swear. Deport 'em all."
With Olivia softly groaning, stirring and rolling to her chest, the light bulb over Polly's head clears away the psychic gloom. Lockwood heads for the penthouse one more time. Quickly clambering to her familiar perch, the True American turns this time with Ollie just starting to push toward all fours. If a Lunge was good how could a Leap not be better? And Polly vaults heavenward, or the Orlando equivalent, her body tucking tight as it reaches its zenith before getting all froggy on the way down, Lockwood looking to land her Leap.
A near breathless, groaning Olivia starts to crawl away, but her progress is slow... and Polly has factored it into her flightplan. Coming out of her tuck, Lockwood's belly strikes Barker's back with a meaty "THWAAAP', the TRUE American's weight driving her foe back to the mat. Olivia finds her stomach and juggs viciously smoooshed underneath her, thanks to a woman once as close to her as a sister. Barker moans softly, her lungs enflamed thanks to the continued diminished oxygen under Polly's assault. As the Star Spangled Bytch bounces up to her knees, a gasping Olivia tries to drag herself toward the ropes--'tries' being the operative word.
"Yeah. This is the loser I remember," Polly says, placing a domineering boot on Olivia's ass. "San Antonio Rose?! Nuh uh. SAN ANTONIO BLOWS!"
The blonde removes her shoe leather and reaches down to pluck Olivia off the canvas. Getting Barker to her feet, she spins Olivia to face away from her with a shove and comes at the curvy grappler, arms extended. The limbs slip under and around Ollie's, Polly hoping to link her fingers in a full nelson, lift the overmatched Young American and deliver her to the mat with the biggest Patriot Driver the most pathetic excuse of an American ever deserved.
PATRIOT DRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=13lIpxRgWck
Olivia begins to shake her head--a far cry from the force of nature she'd been in the early going, that is now the extent of the resistance she can offer. And it is nowhere near enough. The TRUE American muscles her slightly larger foe off her feet, breaking the nelson only when she pivots to the side, SLAMMING the San Antonio Rose down to her back. But the back of Barker's skull also crashes wickedly against the thinly padded plywood, Ollie's eyes drifting crossways for a moment before her eyelid's shutter closed--a detail that escapes the notice of everyone but Polly, kneeling beside her with a satisfied smirk.
But instead of going for the pin, the True American rises to her feet and strolls to her corner to gather up her flag. Raising it high and stretching it wide, she approaches the splayed, semiconscious Ollie. "Truer words were never sewn!" Polly shouts to the back row. The crowd responds with a few well-chosen words of their own that only grow louder when Polly places the flag like a shroud over the spreadeagled redhead. She sensually slithers atop the demolished Barker in a full body pin, Lockwood nose to nose and chest to chest with the body beneath.
"Count!"
A stunned official slides next to the unique pin and slaps the mat for the...
ONE...
TWO...
The only sign of movement from underneath the flag is an almost imperceptible one, as the smallest of gasps from the plucked San Antonio Rose draws a brief patch of cloth ever so slightly into mouth. Needless to say, that is HARDLY enough to stave of the inevitable...
THREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer declares, following the bell, "your winner, via pinfall... and STILL FAWN Lightweight Champion... POOOLLLLLLYYY LOOOCCCKKKWWWOOOOOODDD!!!!!"
The FAWNatics are anything but overjoyed, while the referee reaches through the ropes to accept the TRUE American's title from a ringside staffer.
The official moves to Polly and grabs a wrist, using it to tug the delighted if depleted Lockwood off her former partner. Before Polly can throw her next fit, she's handed the lightweight gold and that soothes the savage breast. "Ya suppose she knows now!" Polly shouts. "I'm not so sure," she says with a wicked chuckle before pushing the ref away.
Placing the gold around her waist and snapping the belt in place, Polly heads for her familiar stomping grounds, a top buckle. With her fortified tummy, it doesn't take a genius to know she has one more splash in mind to provide Olivia some broken ribs and relieve her of any idea of trying to face Polly again. "Say it with me now," she yells. "I pledge allegiance to Polly!" then leaps toward the covered Ollie.
Perhaps surprisingly, a few voices to chime in with the triumphant blonde--not many, to be sure. Certainly not more than the masses remaining loyal to Lockwood's former partner. Not that they do Olivia much good at the moment. If she HAD regained any of her senses since the tolling of the bell, it's impossible to tell with the yellow flag covering every curvaceous inch of her... which also means that, even if she has been roused at all, she is unable to see the flying Star Spangled Bytch descending toward her. Polly lands one parting splash, this one gold-reinforced...
... and at last there's a sign of life from Barker, in the form of a loud, "gyyyuuuuUUUUUNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Polly bounces off the remains of her former partner and former threat. She contains a grimace as she rises and places a boot on the shrouded curvy frame of the beaten Barker, Polly shouting as loudly as she can manage "U...S...ME!"