Post by alyadmirer on May 18, 2016 22:02:12 GMT
With the night growing short and the gold getting glittery, it’s time to start defending title belts and the unmistakable strains of the one, the only, THE most awesome musical icon, flow through FAWN Arena, namely Barbra Streisand's "Don't Rain on My Parade".
”DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZTSuMErgsw
The crowd roars not because they love Yentl, though Shawna knows they surely must, but because the infamous winner of FAWN’s first Royal Rumbrr pushes through the curtain and into view. Though Shawna Sapperstein had seen more than her fair share of down times in her FAWN career, the stylish brunette is riding the wave of breakout tag team success. Having bested the Valley Girls in style, she and Jersey’s Firecracker are ready to take down those that could not be taken down.
Sapperstein sweeps back her perfectly feathered coppery coiffure with a rake of her fingers and raises her right arm giving the FAWNatics a window-washing pageant wave.
The assembled crane their necks toward the upper stage in anticipation of her lovely Latina compatriot. Their wait is a short one, as a dark-haired, coffee-n-cream-skinned beauty emerges and joins her partner, surrounding Shawna in a warm embrace. The FAWNatics double-down on the volume in their welcome for Marisa Fuentes. As with Sapperstein, the Jersey Girl’s singles career had been mostly as roadkill to the big names of the lightweight division. But with the New York/New Jersey connection clicking, Fuentes appears a talent reborn.
The spicy Cuban pumps her fist excitedly at the crowd as the announcer heralds her team’s arrival.
"Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit and is for the FAWN Tag Team titles. Introducing first, hailing from Queens, New York and Jersey City, New Jersey respectively…at a combined weight of two hundred and thirty-five pounds, Shawna Sapperstein and Marisa Fuentes, together they are SPPPIIICCCYYY MAAATTTZZZAAAHHH!!!!!"
SHAWNA SAPPERSTEIN:
MARISA FUENTES:
The Jewish-American Princess and her saucy Latina cohort make their way down the aisle slapping hands with fans on either side of the aisle. Presenting a united front in terms of attire, both Shawna and Marisa are clad in tight, red, two-piece outfits. Gone is Sapperstein’s mock cocktail dress and Marisa’s baby blue ensemble. Instead each is minimally covered with cherry-red halters cut both low and high to provide the fans plenty of cleavage and tummy. Below is a thin rim of spandex that can generously be called boy-cut trunks, though perhaps with only half the material. Each wears white boots and pads to seal the deal.
Sapps smiles broadly, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses, her eyes brightening when she sees a banner reading “Spicy Matzah is so DELISH!”.
Sapperstein offers a thumbs up, clearly appreciating the backing of her faithful fans. Next to her, the sultry mélange of Cuba, Africa and Jersey has the crowd percolating. Marisa enthusiastically slaps hands with the FAWNatics and, meeting with Shawna at the steps, gives her partner a set of high-fives.
Spicy Matzah head up to the apron, each taking a turn in opening the top and middle ropes wide for the other. Shawna picks out a corner and provides the fans an eyeful as she limbers for the battle ahead, her flashes of leg and cleavage to the fans no coincidence, the brunette loving every second of attention. A few feet away the exotic little firecracker swivels her hips, throwing a few shadow punches for good measure.
It wouldn’t take three times for tonight to be Matzah’s charm. They’d come up short in a title match with the Valley Girls and had avenged that loss. This evening’s second chance at the big prize would take a bigger effort but would provide the ultimate reward.
The FAWNatics continue to shower Matzah with cheers and adulation, but their ruckus is soon interrupted by a stomp-stomp-clap rhythm, though not one of the FAWNatics’ making. Soon after comes the voices of Iggy Azalea...
“HEAVY CROWN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3f8_hp7Nc6I
“And now,” the announcer resumes, “introducing the champions...”
Those words send the crowd into raucous jeers.
“At a combined weight of four hundred and twenty-seven pounds… Representing the Black Court, Ashley Locke, Pandora and Adrianna Papadopolous... they are... THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!! ”
The curtains part, and that serves as more than enough of a cue for the audience to lose their collective sh!t. And out step three physical specimens, who together form possibly the most imposing trio FAWN has ever seen.
PANDORA
Pandora’s age is a hard thing to guess just by appearances, but she’d likely be carded at the Arena bar. And while there aren’t many women on the roster that can make the likes of Maggie Connor, Becky Clayton and Roxie freakin’ McCrimmon look like lightweights, she would certainly qualify. She stands just south of 6 feet tall and more than pleasingly fills out her white bikini top. The lights seem to dance off Pandora’s impossibly bronzed, impossibly smooth stomach. And her taut undercarriage is sheathed in a matching set of bikini bottoms, with three aqua buttons befitting her Miami roots leading toward tied off stretches of fabric that extend halfway down her thighs.
And when your legs never end, that’s a LOOOONG way.
ASHLEY LOCKE
To her right stands the former Goddess of Love. But with that moniker now relegated to history, Ashley Locke remains an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that is probably leg. Said gams are exquisitely sculpted and look downright dangerous, as do her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in a orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms match the top, as do her pads and boots, though the pads are basic lycra and lack any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot is adorned with a the stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
ADRIANNA PAPADOPOLOUS
To Pandora’s left is FAWN’s certified Greek Goddess, Adrianna Papadopolous. It’s immediately clear Adrianna regards the filthy, teeming masses much as she did before her time off among the immortals, like a deity gazing down from the heights. Her subjects stare, momentarily slackjawed at the Greek beauty, Addy in a black version of her original attire, only appropriate for a member of Emily West’s Black Court, the organization no doubt buoyed by her return.
Pappy adjusts her revealing bikini top, while the accompanying short, black, pleated skirt gives the look of a miniaturized toga, an occasional flash of the familiarly-hued blue panties still remaining beneath. Her elbow-pads and boots have gotten the Court treatment as well, going basic black.
With all three dressed for battle, combined with their introduction, both the challengers and the crowd look a little on edge. Any combination of these three beauties posed a tall order. Which alignment of heavenly bodies would go into battle against them?
There is perhaps one clue: Ashley and Pandora carry the straps over their shoulders.
Pandora approaches the ring, her hindquarters perhaps not possessing quite the same degree of bootyliciousness as her former stablemate LaKeisha Bates—few do—but her hips make up for it with extra sass. The Three stop at the end of the aisle, and as Ellie Goulding’s voice replaces Iggy’s, Locke and Pandora slowly raise their title belts into the air, each with one hand...
“This heavy crown
You can't always please the crowd
But I am still not bowing down
This heavy crown
It comes and goes around
And when it's time, I'll pass it proud..."
Just as the last line begins, the Greek Goddess and the Goddess of Love violently pull their belts back down, toward their abdomens.
“But bytch I got it now!”
The champions fan out--Pandora remaining in front of the ramp, while Ashley drifts to the right side of the ring and Pappy to the left. The Three then each climb onto the apron, leaving only the ropes behind Shawna and Marisa--the ones FURTHEST from the aisle--free and clear, should they feel like running back to the locker room before the Three arranged their passage to the nearest trauma center.
Panny, Pappy and Locke each thread one luscious leg through the ropes and into the ring... but then, the Greek Goddess withdraws hers. As Pandora and Ashley enter the ring, Adrianna descends to the floor. After a few moments of discussion, the Beach Goddess withdraws to the apron, leaving the Ashley Locke in the ring to start the match.
After a moment's discussion on who would take on the leggy former Aphrodite, it's Marisa who again answers the early call as she had against the terrible twins. She'd both started fast and then took a pasting from the natural clones. Tonight, a prolonged beating would very likely not be followed by a comeback. Matzah would have to be immaculate to have a chance at squeezing out a win, at least that's the feeling in the air, and Fuentes less than fiery circling of the ring after the bell does little to quell those feelings. Looking unsure how to attack the near six-footer, Marisa feigns a collar-and-elbow toward a dipping Ashley and instead, the dusky beauty goes low, trying for a single-leg pick-up.
But when you're a near six-footer, especially one with the reputation that each member of the Three had helped to build, one of the first things you learn and that you come to expect in any match with a smaller foe is how much such pests like to rely on misdirection. Therefore, Locke refrains from commiting to the first move, instead waiting to see the Cuban-American beauty switch gears. And as Fuentes goes low, Ashley takes a step to the side, sweeping clear of Marisa's past. A further side shuffle lets her slip behind the challenger, Locke lacing her arms around the waist of the Jersey Firecracker.
Just as Fuentes had taken a pounding in Matzah's last match, the last time she had helped the Three defend the titles, Aphrodite had been worked over in a manner in which the champions had never been before--and clearly that is fresh in the mind of the leggalicious blonde, who pops her hips and begins to bridge back, looking to SLING Marisa overhead with a quick and emphatic German suplex.
With Marisa wrapped up in Ashley's arms, pulled tight by the towering blonde, there's little time to fight free. And when that time passes, there's little Fuentes can do when her boots leave the canvas. She tossed up and over, landing on the back of her skull and her spinal column. The impact THWAPS through the arena, Shawna cringing and Marisa out-and-out yelping, reaching for her lower back. Still, she scrambles to her feet fast enough to scamper out of Locke's snatch for her raven locks. Marisa works at her vertebrae as she circles again, again trying to come up with something against the person many considered the weakest link of the championship chain. Marisa isn't waiting for Ashley to initiate and the crowd seems pumped at her aggression. Fuentes races at the statuesque blonde, leaping toward a forearm smash aimed at Ashley's jawline.
The punch connects, snapping Ashley's head backward and forcing the towering blonde into the briefest of backpedals. But Locke quickly rights herself--and then waves Marisa in to take another shot. The Cuban-American spitfire doesn't hesitate in the face of the invitation, and launches herself into a second jumping forearm. And to the delight of the FAWNatics, it appears Locke's arrogance might have been a little misplaced. While she still remains upright, Ashley staggers back a few more steps on this occasion, the ropes possibly serving to keep Aphrodite on her feet when her back his the rubber coated steel. And Fuentes STAYS on the attack, launching another jumping forearm that SLAMS into Locke's bosom.
Grabbing a wrist, the Jersey Firecracker presses her luck by going for an Irish whip... but Ashley reverses, sending Fuentes sprinting toward the far cables. And once those ropes propel Marisa back toward her, Locke extends one of her ridiculously lengthy stems, looking to catch Fuentes under the jaw with a big boot.
On the rebound, Fuentes sees the large leather coming straight at her and slides baseball-style underneath. Skidding to a stop, the Firecracker pops back to her feet, pirouettes and races at a spinning Locke. The Spicy One SLAMS another forearm into Ashley's jaw sending the big blonde into a full backpedal, Locke's back thumping against the buckles. Marisa doesn't waste a moment as she sprints to the opposite corner and makes a u-turn. Scurrying back toward the cornered champ, Marisa leaps from a few feet out, determined to make an impression by bringing the splash to the blonde Amazon.
Alas, when the lovely Latina goes airborne, so too does the Goddess of Love--Ashley gripping the top rope with both hands for support and swinging her legs into the air. This time, Marisa can't avoid Locke's soles, which catch the challenger flush in the chest and send her crashing to the mat. From the floor, Adrianna offers her partner a round of applause--sincerely? Or perhaps with a touch of snideness, given Ashley's last performance. Stalking out of the corner, the leggy blonde stoops and scoops Marisa up to her chest. "This should slow you down a bit," Locke mutters, preparing to toss Fuentes into the air, and leave her All Choked Up when Marisa dropped throat first across the top rope.
Ashley leans the Cuban-American grappler over the top rope and drops, Marisa's neck landing flush with the rubber-coated steel. Fuentes' head snaps back and she staggers after it drunkenly. Thankfully for Matzah it's in the general direction of her partner and a call from Shawna sends Marisa off on angle toward her friend, hoping to reach her before the long legs of the blonde can catch her foe up.
And maybe with a little more air left in her lungs, Fuentes might have stood a chance. Unfortunately, those gams allow Ashley to snatch an ankle and YANK the Jersey Firecracker backward with her fingers still about an inch away from brushing Shawna's. Rolling Marisa to her back as she retreats across the ring, Locke lets go of Fuentes' ankle with one hand, just long enough to reach behind her back for Pandora to make the tag. And the FAWNatics hold their collective breath as the former World champ enters the match for the first time, reaching down to claim Marisa's other ankle. Without another word, the two curvaceous blonde's prepared to fall in opposite directions, ready to make a wish with Fuentes' stems.
Marisa pleads both with her palms and her quivering lower lip. She holds her voice in check, that is until the blondes make good on their threat and drop east and west. Her groin muscles shredded by the forced pair of splits, Marisa's shoots to a seated position, howling in agony. Her hands reach for her inner thighs, but the horizontal champions only amp up the pressure by using their incredible gams to grapevine around Fuentes' shorter versions and split the poor Firecracker even wider. The dark eyes of Fuentes well as she cries to the official to get both women off her and one woman out.
"Alright, girls, " the referee sighs, "one of you..."
But his voice drifts off when, instead of getting an argument, Ashley releases Marisa leg and rolls out to the apron. Pandora relinquishes her grip as well and pushes to her feet, pulling Fuentes up to a stooped base via a handful of hair. With the Cuban-American beauty doubled over, the Beach Goddess laces her arms around Marisa's midsection. Given the size disparity between them, it shouldn't take much effort at out for Pandora to muscle the challenger up across her shoulder--or, from there, to SLAM her down chest first with her aptly-named Dominator.
DOMINATOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sDgsgIwHUg
With Marisa bent at the waist in front of her, Fuentes' legs still quaking, Pandora wraps her arms around Marisa's tawny tummy and effortlessly flips Fuentes up her frame. With the Jersey Girl's back bent over Panny's right shoulder, the blonde almost looks bored as she marches around the ring for a evening stroll before throwing Marisa to the mat sack-of-dirt style. The snuffed Firecracker lands on her face and chest. She curls into a fetal ball, trying to hug her entire frame into a cocoon.
"No, no, no...." Panny purrs, shaking her head as she pries open the protective shell Marisa has constructed for herself. Taking a handful of hair, the curvaceous blonde jerks Fuentes up and then stuffs the Latina back into the Three's corner, Marisa's arms spilling over the top rope. While Pandora saunters away from the corner, Ashley discreetly slips her fingers into the waistband of the Firecracker's bottoms, looking to make sure Fuentes doesn't leave the corner as Panny moves into position--which turns out to be not far from the Matzah corner.
"FUNNY GIRL sucks on toast!" Pandora yells at Shawna before taking off in a sprint back toward her own corner, looking to BURY Fuentes under a one hundred and fifty-one pound avalanche.
A redfaced Sapperstein takes a swing at Pandora but comes up empty against the big blonde bully. Panny moves plenty fast for her curves and the inattentive ref doesn't give a second thought as to why a squirming Fuentes can't seem to get out of the buckles as Panny approaches. The beach blonde lifts off, not far but plenty far off the canvas at the same time. She makes the poor Latina disappear under a tidal wave of flawless pulchritude. Pandora bounces away from burying Marisa with a smile firmly planted. She casually saunters down the length of the ring as Marisa's legs turn off and she plops her ass to the canvas, The Three again quickly turning a pair of hot challengers into ragged foils, or at least the one that had been in the ring so far.
Returning to the splattered form of Marisa Fuentes, Pandora places a boot against the Latina’s windpipe and presses down ALL her weight, sending the Jersey Firecracker's shapely legs into a kicking frenzy as her hands pry and push and the Beach Goddess' ankle. "Break the choke, Pandora!" the ref barks, then immediately starts a five count.
"ONE!"
Panny doesn't break the choke, but she DOES raise a hand, allowing Ashley to high five herself back into the match.
"TWO!"
Pandora eases up, but only to start stomping down on Fuentes' upper chest as Locke slips through the ropes. Once Marisa had been driven down into a puddle, fully on the canvas, Pandora relents and departs--while Aphrodite takes Fuentes' ankles and stuffs them under her arms. Having rendered the challenger All Choked Up once tonight by dropping her across the top rope, now Locke apparently intends to accomplish the same game by slingshotting her, throat first, into the bottom cable.
With Panny having puddled a challenger, her standard job with The Three, Ashley sets Marisa up for a short violent ride. Falling to her back, Locke sends Fuentes shooting up at substantial speed. Her neck is thrust into the bottom of the ropes this time and her trip comes to an abrupt halt. A gasping, bugeyed Firecracker grabs at her throat, trying to draw in oxygen with raspy breaths. Somehow, her flailing feet slip out of Locke's hands and the Spicy One is able to roll her way out of the ring, flopping to the floor. Unfortunately, it's at Adrianna's feet, but Shawna doesn't give a damn. On the sidelines too long, she races around the corner to throw herself at the big brunette and spirit her partner to temporary safety.
Adrianna's only move in response to Marisa's tumbling out of the ring is to lower her head and regard the sputtering Firecracker with a smirk, but that doesn't stop the FAWNatics from ERUPTING when Shawna comes up from behind and DRIVES a forearm into the voluptuous brunette's back. Caught completely from the blindside, Pappy groans and slumps forward--and the Jewish-American Princess capitalizes, bum rushing the doubled brunette into the guardrail. With the Greek Goddess neutralized, Sapperstein returns to her partner and starts to help her to her feet...
But the champions are known as the Three for a reason, which becomes readily apparent when Pandora grabs two handfuls of Shawna's dark locks and roughly turns her around, pulling her into a knee lift the connects perilously south of Shawna's navel. With Sapperstein left gasping, Panny pulls the brunette into a standing headscissors and wraps her arms around the challenger's waist. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she spies Papadopoulos crawling away along the railing--so Pandora swings Sapperstein up onto her shoulders and starts to charge toward the vacated steel, intending to powerbomb Shawna's back into the edge of the barrier.
A frantic Sapperstein wriggles and fights for all she's worth as she reaches the top of Panny's shoulders. All looks lost when the big blonde races toward the guardrail but Shawna breaks her legs free of the wrapping arms of the blonde. The Queen of Queens shoots her stems behind her, going horizontal in the space in front of the still charging Pandora. Sapps then tries to sit out, into the front row of the crowd no less, hoping to DDT the curvy Amazon's skull into the metal pipe at the top of the barrier and turn the momentum distinctly in the challenger's direction.
'THOOONK!'
Panny has often been described as an irresistible force in the world of FAWN, but in this encounter with an immovable object, the object wins. The Beach Goddess whips away from the concussive impact, tumbling and landing face down, the former World and reigning Tag champ rendered about as motionless as she had ever been in the FAWN Arena. But as much as this action has given the crowd reason to cheer, the important fighters in this match are Ashley Locke and Marisa Fuentes--and at the moment, Aphrodite is assisting a clearly still woozy Firecracker up onto the apron. Lacing an arm around Marisa's neck, Locke takes a handful of waistband in preparation of suplexing the challenger back into the ring.
Ashley launches Fuentes off the strip of mat outside the ropes and into the squared circle. But the Jersey Girl adds a little 'oomph' behind Locke's play and, instead of landing on her back, Marisa drops onto her boot soles. Instantly, she's racing to the far ropes and rebounding as a turning Ashley wonders why she didn't hear 'splat' behind her. Sprinting back at the leggy Amazon, Marisa connects with the wide-eyed champ using what's becoming a patented flying forearm. After a wicked head snap, Ashley stumbles toward the middle of the ring and a shove from Fuentes sends her tripping to the deck. It takes a split-second for the Firecracker to be in motion, surging toward the splayed Ashley and flipping into her Cuban Star Press, aimed at collapsing the champ's abdomen: www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3zmeHkY03s ). Meanwhile, Shawna, with the help of some friendly fans, climbs out of the crowd to send Adrianna to sleep alongside Pandora if she felt the need.
Pappy writhes and groans on the ground, but does nothing in the way of an offensive maneuver--and the buxom brunette's pacified condition convinces Shawna to head back around the ring, knowing her partner would need to make a tag in short order. But not yet. Instead, the Jersey Firecracker sprints toward a suddenly toppled Goddess of Love and goes airborne, splashing down tummy to tummy across Ashley's midsection and sending Locke's luscious legs flying into the air. Fuentes snatches them, cradling them tight for...
ONE...
TWO...
Ashley kicks out.
Meanwhile, Adrianna has recovered enough to climb up onto the apron, taking up station in the Three's corner and reaching a hand toward the downed Aphrodite.
Marisa notices Adrianna's helping hand and turns to the ref. "She thinks you are el stupido." Fuentes informs the Greek Goddess only blonde are that dumb. It's Matzah's turn to get Spicy as far as the Cuban-American beauty is concerned and she grabs the ankles of Aphrodite and drags her toward the Matzah corner. Considering the size differential and Marisa's condition, it's an arduous task but finally Shawna is able to tap her partner's shoulder. Climbing the outside of the corner, Sapperstein reaches the perch above Fuentes and, with Marisa still in possession of the long lower limbs of the blonde’s, the Haw Haw Hawtie bunny hops over, looking to drop her derriere onto Ashley's chest and accept the legs from Marisa for the matchbook pin of a lifetime.
As Sapperstein takes flight, Locke's eyes go wide, and her first instinct is to roll out of the way. It's a good thought, but there's an issue: Marisa Fuentes clutching her ankles as tightly as she can. Granted, after what she had endured so far, that's not super hard or for super long, and Locke does manage to pull her stems loose--only by the time she does, Shawna's tush as 'THWAP'ing down atop Ashley's bosom. The Jewish-American Princess reaches back to collect those gams...
ONE...
Pappy threads a leg through the ropes, ready to rush to the rescue--and possibly put the referee on the spot.
TWO...
Locke bucks out, sending Shawna flying forward and landing on her knees, just a couple of feet beyond Aphrodite's noggin.
Sapperstein is immediately pointing at Pappy and the ref is sent like a hound after a thrown stick, chasing after the encroaching Adrianna. Meanwhile, Shawna grabs one of the blonde's wrists and Marisa the other, pulling the hurting Amazon to her feet. They move Aphrodite down the ropes and fling her to the opposite strands. As the champ hits the cables, Sapperstein and Fuentes link hands and race at Locke, knowing they'll have to leap in unison to rip Ashley off her feet with a double clothesline and bring Matzah even closer to the biggest upset in FAWN tag history and everlasting glory.
"C'mon, Adri..." the official begins to protest, moving to place a hand on Papadopoulos' shoulder...
... but the Greek Goddess cuts him off, swatting that hand away and bellowing with rage, "HOW DARE YOU, MORTAL? TOUCH ME AGAIN, AND YOUR HAG OF A WIFE WILL NEVER KNOW ANOTHER NIGHT OF PLEASURE WITH YOU!"
The ref doesn't back down, though his voice is considerably shaky. "You're not in this match, Pappy!" he counters.
"I AM Tag Team champion, am I not?" Adrianna asks with a sneer.
"This match is with Ashley and Panny!" he asserts.
While Addy might be getting better of the verbal duel, behind the official the match is continuing to progress in the favor of the challengers, Sapperstein and Fuentes launching themselves into a flying double clothesline that sends Ashley's gams flying out from underneath her, the shapely blonde crashing flat to her back in a groaning heap.
Spicy Matzah scramble to their feet and hover over the fallen champion. Again they link hands, this time Sapps' right with Marisa's, the partner's pointing in opposite directions. Together they drop and drive pointed elbows into Ashley's chest. Locke spasms and falls still, the crowd tense with anticipation, which only grows when Marisa hustles to the ropes and slides under leaving Shawna to again collect the long blonde's endless stems and fold them atop her torso in a double-leg matchbook. "Gimme that gold," she says to the official. The man turns and slides to the mat to slap...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
The kickout comes just in time, but it's still a strong one, dislodging the Jewish-American brunette and allowing the leggy blonde to roll to her side. Meanwhile, Pandora has finally roused herself out of the stupor from Shawna's improvised DDT, and while shaking out a few lingering cobwebs, she climbs up onto the apron and gives Pappy's shoulder a par--which seems to call off the dogs, sending the Greek Goddess jumping back down to the floor.
Seeing Pandora take Pappy's place might send chills down the spine of some challengers but the Queen of Queens isn't one. Instead, Sapperstein hops to her feet anf forgets about the nearly beaten champion at her feet. Hoping Panny's senses aren't quite there yet, she launches at the icon of invulnerability, leaping into a dropkick toward the beach blonde's abundant chest, hoping to send her not only flying off the apron but into Adrianna, taking out two of The Three in one blow to leave a reeling Aphrodite between Matzah and the titles.
The Beach Goddess ISN'T all there, and Pandora proves slow to recognize the danger facing her... but fortunately for the champions, Adrianna Papadopoulos isn't. Acting quickly, the curvaceous brunette reaches up and grabs hold of Panny's waistband, pulling back and yanking the statuesque blonde from the apron. Pandora lands on her feet, albeit somewhat drunkenly. Sapperstein, meanwhile, crashes to the canvas, denied the resistance of the Beach Goddess to absorb any of the force of her landing.
"Thanks," Panny pants, drawing a nod from her fellow Goddess, while inside the ring Ashley Locke crawls over and begins to shove Sapperstein underneath the bottom rope.
Cradling her suddenly aching head, Sapperstein doesn't seem to notice how close to the edge of the The Three's camp she is and with one final if weak shove from Ashley, Shawna tumbles to the floor and enemy territory. Fuentes instantly tweaks to the danger, first demanding the official get Shawna back in the ring. But when the man goes unheeded and the Firecracker sees Adrianna and Panny pull her partner up, no doubt ready for an Amazon-sized beatdown, Marisa sneaks through the ropes and races toward the congregation. As she closes, she dips to send her spicy little body through, throwing caution to the wind with a suicide dive.
Still on the canvas and looking out of the ring, Ashley fails to notice the charging Cuban-American spitfire. Instead, Fuentes dives over her, sailing toward the ropes unaccosted. But on the floor, Pandora catches sight of the crimson and cafe au lait blur with JUUUST enough time to pay Adrianna back for her solid of a moment ago. Acting quickly, the Beach Goddess releases Shawna and SLAMS her palms into Pappy's shoulders, sending the confused brunette stumbling backward. Panny then barely manage to take a step back herself, leaving only Sapperstein to intercept the flying form of Fuentes. Matzah go down in a combined heap, Marisa's weight driving her partner to the floor, Shawna letting out an "OOOPH!!!" on impact.
Not wanting to give Fuentes any time to reflect on the mishap, Panny promptly grabs one handful of hair and another of briefs, lifting the Jersey Firecracker off her partner, and intending to sling her headlong into the side of the steel ringsteps.
Feeling not only despondent about collapsing her partner to the cement but in not a little pain and confusion over the miss, Marisa is unable to stop Pandora from lifting her and giving the Jersey Girl the bum's rush to the steps. Turning her right shoulder in, Fuentes collides with a terrible CRASH, the crowd groaning in sympathy as she ends splattered next to the turned steel. Mewling and grasping at her shoulder, Fuentes rocks from side to side, dark eyes watering. A few steps away, Shawna pushes to all fours and reflexively begins to crawl toward her partner to check on her teammate, trying to make her way through the forest of long tawny legs between her and Marisa.
It's a treacherous path, particularly with no map, and before long Shawna finds her dark tresses snatched by the Beach Goddess. Hairhauling Sapperstein up from the concrete, Pandora hisses, "Memory's a bit hazy, but I do believe I owe you for a DDT..."
With the Jewish-American Princess' back to her, the curvaceous blonde reaches one hand across the challenger's throat while threading her other arm between Shawna's thighs. Mindful of the growing count from within the ring as she begins to scoop Sapperstein to her chest, Pandora still reckons she has enough time to send Shawna to the floor with an inverted powerslam.
INVERTED POWERSLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qobwXL-whYo
Plucked off the floor, Shawna is easily swept to Pandora's chest, her body pointed outward. Sapps squirms for all she's worth but unlike the powerbomb countered to a DDT that had moved Matzah within grasping distance of the brass ring, the Queen of Queens is dethroned by the beach blonde this time. Pandora throws her body forward but Shawna's leads the way to the thinly padded cement and Panny sandwiches on top of her for good measure. A loud meaty splat joins a loud grunt from Shawna as she hits the floor and, when Pandora rises to her haunches, Shawna remains flat on her chest and unmoving.
Peeling the glistening Jewish-American princess off the deck, Pandora stuffs Shawna under the bottom rope and sends the challenger tumbling toward a risen Ashley Locke. "Shhhhhhhhh," the leggy blonde purrs menacingly as she gives Sapperstein an assist back to verticality. "Not TOO much longer now." Aphrodite slips her left arm underneath Shawna's left, while her right hand reaches to gather that wrist and draw the brunette's left arm across her throat.
COBRA CLUTCH SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL13_MKELRQ
As Ashley readies her cobra clutch slam on the legal woman in the ring, Pandora turns her attention to the still down and all but out Fuentes on the floor. Apparently unsatisfied with her vengeance against Sapperstein, the Beach Goddess takes Marisa's locks, and leads a crawling Cuban-American beauty away from the ringsteps... and toward the announcer station. "You're a pesky little mosquito," Panny mutters, shoving the Jersey Firecracker's head between her thighs and locking on a standing headscissors. "And I'm getting tired of having to swat at you..."
Slipping her arms around the challenger's midsection, Pandora prepares to hoist Marisa up onto her shoulders... and Gordy and Joanna prepare to take cover from the impending powerbomb.
Inside the ring, Locke takes an extra moment to gather herself and Sapperstein, Shawna showing no resistance. It's likely Aphrodite could have clutched to victory but apparently Matzah has earned something more demonstrative. Ashley provides it, launching Shawna HIGH in front of her, turning the copper-haired New Yawker at the highpoint and SLAMMING Sapperstein nearly THROUGH the canvas. The ring reverberates, Shawna bouncing an inch off the mat before settling to ragdoll status in a wide starfish next to the horizontal and frankly exhausted looking Goddess.
Outside, Pandora looks to provide what she had failed with Shawna. Tempting another disastrous counter only in the minds of the most hopeful FAWNatic, Marisa is launched into a front flip up the curvy frame of the blonde, ending seated on her shoulders. But there is no fight at the top this time and Panny surges to the announcer's table before thrusting the dusky darling through. Marisa's body sets off an explosion of scattered desk with what little is left of Fuentes ending in the middle of the wreckage.
With Fuentes disposed of to her utter satisfaction, Pandora turns and slides back into the ring. "Back to your corner, Panny," the official chides her, but she ignores the admonishment, approaching Aphrodite and offering the leggy blonde a hand up.
"You got enough left for this?" the Beach Goddess asks, and Locke nods. "OK, then." Ashley turns away from her partner, and lumbers over to the wreckage of Shawna. Yanking her up by the hair, Locke stoops down and nudges her head under Sapperstein's glutes and between her thighs. And as one blonde straightens and hoists the challenger up into the electric chair, Pandora charges into the ropes behind her. The Beach Goddess rebounds off the cables and springs past Ashley, who uses the time to gather up the brunette's wrists. When Panny hits the ropes in front of her, Ashley leans forward--just a little bit. And the former World and reigning Tag Team champion gets a running start into her leap, lifting one of those ridiculously long legs as far and as high as she can in front her, hoping to catch Shawna under the jaw with the BIGGEST Big Boot she can manage--and provide a boost to Locke's electric chair drop that would prove absolutely fatal to Matzah's title hopes.
ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP, SANS BIG BOOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJSAC1Mxzx4
Even through the daze Sapperstein has entered, seemingly barely noticing as she is lifted atop the shoulders of the leggy near six-footer, the sight of Pandora getting her big boot that high and near draws a look of amazement and fright in the face of the New Yawker. It's quickly swept off as Ashley times her drop to Pandora's missile-like footwear. The force behind both surely puts a Shawna-sized dent in the canvas as the sound of Sapps' back and head hitting the deck is resounding. Behind it silence, as Shawna is knocked unconscious, ending in a wide starfish above the lounging Locke and beneath the hovering, lording Pandora. "NO," Panny says emphatically, first to the sleepy Sapperstein then louder to the once hopeful crowd, who respond with a bevy of boos.
Rising to one knee, Ashley swings a succulent stem over Shawna's midsection, settling into a straddle of the brunette's torso. Reaching back with her left arm, Locke scoops up and hooks Sapperstein's left leg, before leaning forward to effectively pieface the challenger with her right hand. Still, some--admittedly a very few--FAWNatics cling desperately to hope as the referee slides into position to check Shawna's shoulders...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!!!!!
But it might as well be three hundred as three as the official counts out yet another victory for The Three. Locke continues to press Sapperstein's cheek to the canvas as the ref waves Shawna out and the ring announcer makes things official. "Your winner and STILL FAWN tag team champions...THHHEEE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!"
The crowd attempts to get a full throated protest underway but the ultimately dominating show has taken the energy from them, though hardly in the manner of both Spicy and Matzah. Focusing on the demolished pair one could imagine it their last foray into a ring, but the display seems par for the course at the ending of the champions' defenses. Panny and Adrianna move up the steps in line, slipping through the ropes to join a rising Aphrodite.
The referee reaches to raise Locke's arm, but she shrugs her hand away. Instead, she only allows her fellow Goddesses to each raise and arm, Pandora and Papadopoulos each sporting one of the title straps slung over her shoulder. Noticing one of the ringside cameramen zooming in, the Beach Goddess lowers herself to look directly into the lens. "Come one, come all," the curvaceous blonde boasts. "There's not a team in existence that can stop up. There's not a team that can be CREATED that can stop us. These..."
Pappy gives the faceplate of her title belt a possessive caress.
"There will NEVER be held by ANYONE else! EVER!"
At this point, who could argue with that?
”DON’T RAIN ON MY PARADE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZTSuMErgsw
The crowd roars not because they love Yentl, though Shawna knows they surely must, but because the infamous winner of FAWN’s first Royal Rumbrr pushes through the curtain and into view. Though Shawna Sapperstein had seen more than her fair share of down times in her FAWN career, the stylish brunette is riding the wave of breakout tag team success. Having bested the Valley Girls in style, she and Jersey’s Firecracker are ready to take down those that could not be taken down.
Sapperstein sweeps back her perfectly feathered coppery coiffure with a rake of her fingers and raises her right arm giving the FAWNatics a window-washing pageant wave.
The assembled crane their necks toward the upper stage in anticipation of her lovely Latina compatriot. Their wait is a short one, as a dark-haired, coffee-n-cream-skinned beauty emerges and joins her partner, surrounding Shawna in a warm embrace. The FAWNatics double-down on the volume in their welcome for Marisa Fuentes. As with Sapperstein, the Jersey Girl’s singles career had been mostly as roadkill to the big names of the lightweight division. But with the New York/New Jersey connection clicking, Fuentes appears a talent reborn.
The spicy Cuban pumps her fist excitedly at the crowd as the announcer heralds her team’s arrival.
"Ladies and gentlemen the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 30-minute time limit and is for the FAWN Tag Team titles. Introducing first, hailing from Queens, New York and Jersey City, New Jersey respectively…at a combined weight of two hundred and thirty-five pounds, Shawna Sapperstein and Marisa Fuentes, together they are SPPPIIICCCYYY MAAATTTZZZAAAHHH!!!!!"
SHAWNA SAPPERSTEIN:
MARISA FUENTES:
The Jewish-American Princess and her saucy Latina cohort make their way down the aisle slapping hands with fans on either side of the aisle. Presenting a united front in terms of attire, both Shawna and Marisa are clad in tight, red, two-piece outfits. Gone is Sapperstein’s mock cocktail dress and Marisa’s baby blue ensemble. Instead each is minimally covered with cherry-red halters cut both low and high to provide the fans plenty of cleavage and tummy. Below is a thin rim of spandex that can generously be called boy-cut trunks, though perhaps with only half the material. Each wears white boots and pads to seal the deal.
Sapps smiles broadly, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses, her eyes brightening when she sees a banner reading “Spicy Matzah is so DELISH!”.
Sapperstein offers a thumbs up, clearly appreciating the backing of her faithful fans. Next to her, the sultry mélange of Cuba, Africa and Jersey has the crowd percolating. Marisa enthusiastically slaps hands with the FAWNatics and, meeting with Shawna at the steps, gives her partner a set of high-fives.
Spicy Matzah head up to the apron, each taking a turn in opening the top and middle ropes wide for the other. Shawna picks out a corner and provides the fans an eyeful as she limbers for the battle ahead, her flashes of leg and cleavage to the fans no coincidence, the brunette loving every second of attention. A few feet away the exotic little firecracker swivels her hips, throwing a few shadow punches for good measure.
It wouldn’t take three times for tonight to be Matzah’s charm. They’d come up short in a title match with the Valley Girls and had avenged that loss. This evening’s second chance at the big prize would take a bigger effort but would provide the ultimate reward.
The FAWNatics continue to shower Matzah with cheers and adulation, but their ruckus is soon interrupted by a stomp-stomp-clap rhythm, though not one of the FAWNatics’ making. Soon after comes the voices of Iggy Azalea...
“HEAVY CROWN”:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3f8_hp7Nc6I
“And now,” the announcer resumes, “introducing the champions...”
Those words send the crowd into raucous jeers.
“At a combined weight of four hundred and twenty-seven pounds… Representing the Black Court, Ashley Locke, Pandora and Adrianna Papadopolous... they are... THE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!!! ”
The curtains part, and that serves as more than enough of a cue for the audience to lose their collective sh!t. And out step three physical specimens, who together form possibly the most imposing trio FAWN has ever seen.
PANDORA
Pandora’s age is a hard thing to guess just by appearances, but she’d likely be carded at the Arena bar. And while there aren’t many women on the roster that can make the likes of Maggie Connor, Becky Clayton and Roxie freakin’ McCrimmon look like lightweights, she would certainly qualify. She stands just south of 6 feet tall and more than pleasingly fills out her white bikini top. The lights seem to dance off Pandora’s impossibly bronzed, impossibly smooth stomach. And her taut undercarriage is sheathed in a matching set of bikini bottoms, with three aqua buttons befitting her Miami roots leading toward tied off stretches of fabric that extend halfway down her thighs.
And when your legs never end, that’s a LOOOONG way.
ASHLEY LOCKE
To her right stands the former Goddess of Love. But with that moniker now relegated to history, Ashley Locke remains an Amazon, a statuesque blonde probably right at six feet with her boots and a good two thirds of that is probably leg. Said gams are exquisitely sculpted and look downright dangerous, as do her shoulders, abdominals and chest, the latter armored in a orangish-red leather bikini top decorated with an intricate pattern of small metal studs. Her bottoms match the top, as do her pads and boots, though the pads are basic lycra and lack any sort of adornment. A detail for the discerning eye, the outer edge of each boot is adorned with a the stylized head and shoulders of a black horse.
ADRIANNA PAPADOPOLOUS
To Pandora’s left is FAWN’s certified Greek Goddess, Adrianna Papadopolous. It’s immediately clear Adrianna regards the filthy, teeming masses much as she did before her time off among the immortals, like a deity gazing down from the heights. Her subjects stare, momentarily slackjawed at the Greek beauty, Addy in a black version of her original attire, only appropriate for a member of Emily West’s Black Court, the organization no doubt buoyed by her return.
Pappy adjusts her revealing bikini top, while the accompanying short, black, pleated skirt gives the look of a miniaturized toga, an occasional flash of the familiarly-hued blue panties still remaining beneath. Her elbow-pads and boots have gotten the Court treatment as well, going basic black.
With all three dressed for battle, combined with their introduction, both the challengers and the crowd look a little on edge. Any combination of these three beauties posed a tall order. Which alignment of heavenly bodies would go into battle against them?
There is perhaps one clue: Ashley and Pandora carry the straps over their shoulders.
Pandora approaches the ring, her hindquarters perhaps not possessing quite the same degree of bootyliciousness as her former stablemate LaKeisha Bates—few do—but her hips make up for it with extra sass. The Three stop at the end of the aisle, and as Ellie Goulding’s voice replaces Iggy’s, Locke and Pandora slowly raise their title belts into the air, each with one hand...
“This heavy crown
You can't always please the crowd
But I am still not bowing down
This heavy crown
It comes and goes around
And when it's time, I'll pass it proud..."
Just as the last line begins, the Greek Goddess and the Goddess of Love violently pull their belts back down, toward their abdomens.
“But bytch I got it now!”
The champions fan out--Pandora remaining in front of the ramp, while Ashley drifts to the right side of the ring and Pappy to the left. The Three then each climb onto the apron, leaving only the ropes behind Shawna and Marisa--the ones FURTHEST from the aisle--free and clear, should they feel like running back to the locker room before the Three arranged their passage to the nearest trauma center.
Panny, Pappy and Locke each thread one luscious leg through the ropes and into the ring... but then, the Greek Goddess withdraws hers. As Pandora and Ashley enter the ring, Adrianna descends to the floor. After a few moments of discussion, the Beach Goddess withdraws to the apron, leaving the Ashley Locke in the ring to start the match.
After a moment's discussion on who would take on the leggy former Aphrodite, it's Marisa who again answers the early call as she had against the terrible twins. She'd both started fast and then took a pasting from the natural clones. Tonight, a prolonged beating would very likely not be followed by a comeback. Matzah would have to be immaculate to have a chance at squeezing out a win, at least that's the feeling in the air, and Fuentes less than fiery circling of the ring after the bell does little to quell those feelings. Looking unsure how to attack the near six-footer, Marisa feigns a collar-and-elbow toward a dipping Ashley and instead, the dusky beauty goes low, trying for a single-leg pick-up.
But when you're a near six-footer, especially one with the reputation that each member of the Three had helped to build, one of the first things you learn and that you come to expect in any match with a smaller foe is how much such pests like to rely on misdirection. Therefore, Locke refrains from commiting to the first move, instead waiting to see the Cuban-American beauty switch gears. And as Fuentes goes low, Ashley takes a step to the side, sweeping clear of Marisa's past. A further side shuffle lets her slip behind the challenger, Locke lacing her arms around the waist of the Jersey Firecracker.
Just as Fuentes had taken a pounding in Matzah's last match, the last time she had helped the Three defend the titles, Aphrodite had been worked over in a manner in which the champions had never been before--and clearly that is fresh in the mind of the leggalicious blonde, who pops her hips and begins to bridge back, looking to SLING Marisa overhead with a quick and emphatic German suplex.
With Marisa wrapped up in Ashley's arms, pulled tight by the towering blonde, there's little time to fight free. And when that time passes, there's little Fuentes can do when her boots leave the canvas. She tossed up and over, landing on the back of her skull and her spinal column. The impact THWAPS through the arena, Shawna cringing and Marisa out-and-out yelping, reaching for her lower back. Still, she scrambles to her feet fast enough to scamper out of Locke's snatch for her raven locks. Marisa works at her vertebrae as she circles again, again trying to come up with something against the person many considered the weakest link of the championship chain. Marisa isn't waiting for Ashley to initiate and the crowd seems pumped at her aggression. Fuentes races at the statuesque blonde, leaping toward a forearm smash aimed at Ashley's jawline.
The punch connects, snapping Ashley's head backward and forcing the towering blonde into the briefest of backpedals. But Locke quickly rights herself--and then waves Marisa in to take another shot. The Cuban-American spitfire doesn't hesitate in the face of the invitation, and launches herself into a second jumping forearm. And to the delight of the FAWNatics, it appears Locke's arrogance might have been a little misplaced. While she still remains upright, Ashley staggers back a few more steps on this occasion, the ropes possibly serving to keep Aphrodite on her feet when her back his the rubber coated steel. And Fuentes STAYS on the attack, launching another jumping forearm that SLAMS into Locke's bosom.
Grabbing a wrist, the Jersey Firecracker presses her luck by going for an Irish whip... but Ashley reverses, sending Fuentes sprinting toward the far cables. And once those ropes propel Marisa back toward her, Locke extends one of her ridiculously lengthy stems, looking to catch Fuentes under the jaw with a big boot.
On the rebound, Fuentes sees the large leather coming straight at her and slides baseball-style underneath. Skidding to a stop, the Firecracker pops back to her feet, pirouettes and races at a spinning Locke. The Spicy One SLAMS another forearm into Ashley's jaw sending the big blonde into a full backpedal, Locke's back thumping against the buckles. Marisa doesn't waste a moment as she sprints to the opposite corner and makes a u-turn. Scurrying back toward the cornered champ, Marisa leaps from a few feet out, determined to make an impression by bringing the splash to the blonde Amazon.
Alas, when the lovely Latina goes airborne, so too does the Goddess of Love--Ashley gripping the top rope with both hands for support and swinging her legs into the air. This time, Marisa can't avoid Locke's soles, which catch the challenger flush in the chest and send her crashing to the mat. From the floor, Adrianna offers her partner a round of applause--sincerely? Or perhaps with a touch of snideness, given Ashley's last performance. Stalking out of the corner, the leggy blonde stoops and scoops Marisa up to her chest. "This should slow you down a bit," Locke mutters, preparing to toss Fuentes into the air, and leave her All Choked Up when Marisa dropped throat first across the top rope.
Ashley leans the Cuban-American grappler over the top rope and drops, Marisa's neck landing flush with the rubber-coated steel. Fuentes' head snaps back and she staggers after it drunkenly. Thankfully for Matzah it's in the general direction of her partner and a call from Shawna sends Marisa off on angle toward her friend, hoping to reach her before the long legs of the blonde can catch her foe up.
And maybe with a little more air left in her lungs, Fuentes might have stood a chance. Unfortunately, those gams allow Ashley to snatch an ankle and YANK the Jersey Firecracker backward with her fingers still about an inch away from brushing Shawna's. Rolling Marisa to her back as she retreats across the ring, Locke lets go of Fuentes' ankle with one hand, just long enough to reach behind her back for Pandora to make the tag. And the FAWNatics hold their collective breath as the former World champ enters the match for the first time, reaching down to claim Marisa's other ankle. Without another word, the two curvaceous blonde's prepared to fall in opposite directions, ready to make a wish with Fuentes' stems.
Marisa pleads both with her palms and her quivering lower lip. She holds her voice in check, that is until the blondes make good on their threat and drop east and west. Her groin muscles shredded by the forced pair of splits, Marisa's shoots to a seated position, howling in agony. Her hands reach for her inner thighs, but the horizontal champions only amp up the pressure by using their incredible gams to grapevine around Fuentes' shorter versions and split the poor Firecracker even wider. The dark eyes of Fuentes well as she cries to the official to get both women off her and one woman out.
"Alright, girls, " the referee sighs, "one of you..."
But his voice drifts off when, instead of getting an argument, Ashley releases Marisa leg and rolls out to the apron. Pandora relinquishes her grip as well and pushes to her feet, pulling Fuentes up to a stooped base via a handful of hair. With the Cuban-American beauty doubled over, the Beach Goddess laces her arms around Marisa's midsection. Given the size disparity between them, it shouldn't take much effort at out for Pandora to muscle the challenger up across her shoulder--or, from there, to SLAM her down chest first with her aptly-named Dominator.
DOMINATOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sDgsgIwHUg
With Marisa bent at the waist in front of her, Fuentes' legs still quaking, Pandora wraps her arms around Marisa's tawny tummy and effortlessly flips Fuentes up her frame. With the Jersey Girl's back bent over Panny's right shoulder, the blonde almost looks bored as she marches around the ring for a evening stroll before throwing Marisa to the mat sack-of-dirt style. The snuffed Firecracker lands on her face and chest. She curls into a fetal ball, trying to hug her entire frame into a cocoon.
"No, no, no...." Panny purrs, shaking her head as she pries open the protective shell Marisa has constructed for herself. Taking a handful of hair, the curvaceous blonde jerks Fuentes up and then stuffs the Latina back into the Three's corner, Marisa's arms spilling over the top rope. While Pandora saunters away from the corner, Ashley discreetly slips her fingers into the waistband of the Firecracker's bottoms, looking to make sure Fuentes doesn't leave the corner as Panny moves into position--which turns out to be not far from the Matzah corner.
"FUNNY GIRL sucks on toast!" Pandora yells at Shawna before taking off in a sprint back toward her own corner, looking to BURY Fuentes under a one hundred and fifty-one pound avalanche.
A redfaced Sapperstein takes a swing at Pandora but comes up empty against the big blonde bully. Panny moves plenty fast for her curves and the inattentive ref doesn't give a second thought as to why a squirming Fuentes can't seem to get out of the buckles as Panny approaches. The beach blonde lifts off, not far but plenty far off the canvas at the same time. She makes the poor Latina disappear under a tidal wave of flawless pulchritude. Pandora bounces away from burying Marisa with a smile firmly planted. She casually saunters down the length of the ring as Marisa's legs turn off and she plops her ass to the canvas, The Three again quickly turning a pair of hot challengers into ragged foils, or at least the one that had been in the ring so far.
Returning to the splattered form of Marisa Fuentes, Pandora places a boot against the Latina’s windpipe and presses down ALL her weight, sending the Jersey Firecracker's shapely legs into a kicking frenzy as her hands pry and push and the Beach Goddess' ankle. "Break the choke, Pandora!" the ref barks, then immediately starts a five count.
"ONE!"
Panny doesn't break the choke, but she DOES raise a hand, allowing Ashley to high five herself back into the match.
"TWO!"
Pandora eases up, but only to start stomping down on Fuentes' upper chest as Locke slips through the ropes. Once Marisa had been driven down into a puddle, fully on the canvas, Pandora relents and departs--while Aphrodite takes Fuentes' ankles and stuffs them under her arms. Having rendered the challenger All Choked Up once tonight by dropping her across the top rope, now Locke apparently intends to accomplish the same game by slingshotting her, throat first, into the bottom cable.
With Panny having puddled a challenger, her standard job with The Three, Ashley sets Marisa up for a short violent ride. Falling to her back, Locke sends Fuentes shooting up at substantial speed. Her neck is thrust into the bottom of the ropes this time and her trip comes to an abrupt halt. A gasping, bugeyed Firecracker grabs at her throat, trying to draw in oxygen with raspy breaths. Somehow, her flailing feet slip out of Locke's hands and the Spicy One is able to roll her way out of the ring, flopping to the floor. Unfortunately, it's at Adrianna's feet, but Shawna doesn't give a damn. On the sidelines too long, she races around the corner to throw herself at the big brunette and spirit her partner to temporary safety.
Adrianna's only move in response to Marisa's tumbling out of the ring is to lower her head and regard the sputtering Firecracker with a smirk, but that doesn't stop the FAWNatics from ERUPTING when Shawna comes up from behind and DRIVES a forearm into the voluptuous brunette's back. Caught completely from the blindside, Pappy groans and slumps forward--and the Jewish-American Princess capitalizes, bum rushing the doubled brunette into the guardrail. With the Greek Goddess neutralized, Sapperstein returns to her partner and starts to help her to her feet...
But the champions are known as the Three for a reason, which becomes readily apparent when Pandora grabs two handfuls of Shawna's dark locks and roughly turns her around, pulling her into a knee lift the connects perilously south of Shawna's navel. With Sapperstein left gasping, Panny pulls the brunette into a standing headscissors and wraps her arms around the challenger's waist. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she spies Papadopoulos crawling away along the railing--so Pandora swings Sapperstein up onto her shoulders and starts to charge toward the vacated steel, intending to powerbomb Shawna's back into the edge of the barrier.
A frantic Sapperstein wriggles and fights for all she's worth as she reaches the top of Panny's shoulders. All looks lost when the big blonde races toward the guardrail but Shawna breaks her legs free of the wrapping arms of the blonde. The Queen of Queens shoots her stems behind her, going horizontal in the space in front of the still charging Pandora. Sapps then tries to sit out, into the front row of the crowd no less, hoping to DDT the curvy Amazon's skull into the metal pipe at the top of the barrier and turn the momentum distinctly in the challenger's direction.
'THOOONK!'
Panny has often been described as an irresistible force in the world of FAWN, but in this encounter with an immovable object, the object wins. The Beach Goddess whips away from the concussive impact, tumbling and landing face down, the former World and reigning Tag champ rendered about as motionless as she had ever been in the FAWN Arena. But as much as this action has given the crowd reason to cheer, the important fighters in this match are Ashley Locke and Marisa Fuentes--and at the moment, Aphrodite is assisting a clearly still woozy Firecracker up onto the apron. Lacing an arm around Marisa's neck, Locke takes a handful of waistband in preparation of suplexing the challenger back into the ring.
Ashley launches Fuentes off the strip of mat outside the ropes and into the squared circle. But the Jersey Girl adds a little 'oomph' behind Locke's play and, instead of landing on her back, Marisa drops onto her boot soles. Instantly, she's racing to the far ropes and rebounding as a turning Ashley wonders why she didn't hear 'splat' behind her. Sprinting back at the leggy Amazon, Marisa connects with the wide-eyed champ using what's becoming a patented flying forearm. After a wicked head snap, Ashley stumbles toward the middle of the ring and a shove from Fuentes sends her tripping to the deck. It takes a split-second for the Firecracker to be in motion, surging toward the splayed Ashley and flipping into her Cuban Star Press, aimed at collapsing the champ's abdomen: www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3zmeHkY03s ). Meanwhile, Shawna, with the help of some friendly fans, climbs out of the crowd to send Adrianna to sleep alongside Pandora if she felt the need.
Pappy writhes and groans on the ground, but does nothing in the way of an offensive maneuver--and the buxom brunette's pacified condition convinces Shawna to head back around the ring, knowing her partner would need to make a tag in short order. But not yet. Instead, the Jersey Firecracker sprints toward a suddenly toppled Goddess of Love and goes airborne, splashing down tummy to tummy across Ashley's midsection and sending Locke's luscious legs flying into the air. Fuentes snatches them, cradling them tight for...
ONE...
TWO...
Ashley kicks out.
Meanwhile, Adrianna has recovered enough to climb up onto the apron, taking up station in the Three's corner and reaching a hand toward the downed Aphrodite.
Marisa notices Adrianna's helping hand and turns to the ref. "She thinks you are el stupido." Fuentes informs the Greek Goddess only blonde are that dumb. It's Matzah's turn to get Spicy as far as the Cuban-American beauty is concerned and she grabs the ankles of Aphrodite and drags her toward the Matzah corner. Considering the size differential and Marisa's condition, it's an arduous task but finally Shawna is able to tap her partner's shoulder. Climbing the outside of the corner, Sapperstein reaches the perch above Fuentes and, with Marisa still in possession of the long lower limbs of the blonde’s, the Haw Haw Hawtie bunny hops over, looking to drop her derriere onto Ashley's chest and accept the legs from Marisa for the matchbook pin of a lifetime.
As Sapperstein takes flight, Locke's eyes go wide, and her first instinct is to roll out of the way. It's a good thought, but there's an issue: Marisa Fuentes clutching her ankles as tightly as she can. Granted, after what she had endured so far, that's not super hard or for super long, and Locke does manage to pull her stems loose--only by the time she does, Shawna's tush as 'THWAP'ing down atop Ashley's bosom. The Jewish-American Princess reaches back to collect those gams...
ONE...
Pappy threads a leg through the ropes, ready to rush to the rescue--and possibly put the referee on the spot.
TWO...
Locke bucks out, sending Shawna flying forward and landing on her knees, just a couple of feet beyond Aphrodite's noggin.
Sapperstein is immediately pointing at Pappy and the ref is sent like a hound after a thrown stick, chasing after the encroaching Adrianna. Meanwhile, Shawna grabs one of the blonde's wrists and Marisa the other, pulling the hurting Amazon to her feet. They move Aphrodite down the ropes and fling her to the opposite strands. As the champ hits the cables, Sapperstein and Fuentes link hands and race at Locke, knowing they'll have to leap in unison to rip Ashley off her feet with a double clothesline and bring Matzah even closer to the biggest upset in FAWN tag history and everlasting glory.
"C'mon, Adri..." the official begins to protest, moving to place a hand on Papadopoulos' shoulder...
... but the Greek Goddess cuts him off, swatting that hand away and bellowing with rage, "HOW DARE YOU, MORTAL? TOUCH ME AGAIN, AND YOUR HAG OF A WIFE WILL NEVER KNOW ANOTHER NIGHT OF PLEASURE WITH YOU!"
The ref doesn't back down, though his voice is considerably shaky. "You're not in this match, Pappy!" he counters.
"I AM Tag Team champion, am I not?" Adrianna asks with a sneer.
"This match is with Ashley and Panny!" he asserts.
While Addy might be getting better of the verbal duel, behind the official the match is continuing to progress in the favor of the challengers, Sapperstein and Fuentes launching themselves into a flying double clothesline that sends Ashley's gams flying out from underneath her, the shapely blonde crashing flat to her back in a groaning heap.
Spicy Matzah scramble to their feet and hover over the fallen champion. Again they link hands, this time Sapps' right with Marisa's, the partner's pointing in opposite directions. Together they drop and drive pointed elbows into Ashley's chest. Locke spasms and falls still, the crowd tense with anticipation, which only grows when Marisa hustles to the ropes and slides under leaving Shawna to again collect the long blonde's endless stems and fold them atop her torso in a double-leg matchbook. "Gimme that gold," she says to the official. The man turns and slides to the mat to slap...
ONE...
TWO...
THRNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
The kickout comes just in time, but it's still a strong one, dislodging the Jewish-American brunette and allowing the leggy blonde to roll to her side. Meanwhile, Pandora has finally roused herself out of the stupor from Shawna's improvised DDT, and while shaking out a few lingering cobwebs, she climbs up onto the apron and gives Pappy's shoulder a par--which seems to call off the dogs, sending the Greek Goddess jumping back down to the floor.
Seeing Pandora take Pappy's place might send chills down the spine of some challengers but the Queen of Queens isn't one. Instead, Sapperstein hops to her feet anf forgets about the nearly beaten champion at her feet. Hoping Panny's senses aren't quite there yet, she launches at the icon of invulnerability, leaping into a dropkick toward the beach blonde's abundant chest, hoping to send her not only flying off the apron but into Adrianna, taking out two of The Three in one blow to leave a reeling Aphrodite between Matzah and the titles.
The Beach Goddess ISN'T all there, and Pandora proves slow to recognize the danger facing her... but fortunately for the champions, Adrianna Papadopoulos isn't. Acting quickly, the curvaceous brunette reaches up and grabs hold of Panny's waistband, pulling back and yanking the statuesque blonde from the apron. Pandora lands on her feet, albeit somewhat drunkenly. Sapperstein, meanwhile, crashes to the canvas, denied the resistance of the Beach Goddess to absorb any of the force of her landing.
"Thanks," Panny pants, drawing a nod from her fellow Goddess, while inside the ring Ashley Locke crawls over and begins to shove Sapperstein underneath the bottom rope.
Cradling her suddenly aching head, Sapperstein doesn't seem to notice how close to the edge of the The Three's camp she is and with one final if weak shove from Ashley, Shawna tumbles to the floor and enemy territory. Fuentes instantly tweaks to the danger, first demanding the official get Shawna back in the ring. But when the man goes unheeded and the Firecracker sees Adrianna and Panny pull her partner up, no doubt ready for an Amazon-sized beatdown, Marisa sneaks through the ropes and races toward the congregation. As she closes, she dips to send her spicy little body through, throwing caution to the wind with a suicide dive.
Still on the canvas and looking out of the ring, Ashley fails to notice the charging Cuban-American spitfire. Instead, Fuentes dives over her, sailing toward the ropes unaccosted. But on the floor, Pandora catches sight of the crimson and cafe au lait blur with JUUUST enough time to pay Adrianna back for her solid of a moment ago. Acting quickly, the Beach Goddess releases Shawna and SLAMS her palms into Pappy's shoulders, sending the confused brunette stumbling backward. Panny then barely manage to take a step back herself, leaving only Sapperstein to intercept the flying form of Fuentes. Matzah go down in a combined heap, Marisa's weight driving her partner to the floor, Shawna letting out an "OOOPH!!!" on impact.
Not wanting to give Fuentes any time to reflect on the mishap, Panny promptly grabs one handful of hair and another of briefs, lifting the Jersey Firecracker off her partner, and intending to sling her headlong into the side of the steel ringsteps.
Feeling not only despondent about collapsing her partner to the cement but in not a little pain and confusion over the miss, Marisa is unable to stop Pandora from lifting her and giving the Jersey Girl the bum's rush to the steps. Turning her right shoulder in, Fuentes collides with a terrible CRASH, the crowd groaning in sympathy as she ends splattered next to the turned steel. Mewling and grasping at her shoulder, Fuentes rocks from side to side, dark eyes watering. A few steps away, Shawna pushes to all fours and reflexively begins to crawl toward her partner to check on her teammate, trying to make her way through the forest of long tawny legs between her and Marisa.
It's a treacherous path, particularly with no map, and before long Shawna finds her dark tresses snatched by the Beach Goddess. Hairhauling Sapperstein up from the concrete, Pandora hisses, "Memory's a bit hazy, but I do believe I owe you for a DDT..."
With the Jewish-American Princess' back to her, the curvaceous blonde reaches one hand across the challenger's throat while threading her other arm between Shawna's thighs. Mindful of the growing count from within the ring as she begins to scoop Sapperstein to her chest, Pandora still reckons she has enough time to send Shawna to the floor with an inverted powerslam.
INVERTED POWERSLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qobwXL-whYo
Plucked off the floor, Shawna is easily swept to Pandora's chest, her body pointed outward. Sapps squirms for all she's worth but unlike the powerbomb countered to a DDT that had moved Matzah within grasping distance of the brass ring, the Queen of Queens is dethroned by the beach blonde this time. Pandora throws her body forward but Shawna's leads the way to the thinly padded cement and Panny sandwiches on top of her for good measure. A loud meaty splat joins a loud grunt from Shawna as she hits the floor and, when Pandora rises to her haunches, Shawna remains flat on her chest and unmoving.
Peeling the glistening Jewish-American princess off the deck, Pandora stuffs Shawna under the bottom rope and sends the challenger tumbling toward a risen Ashley Locke. "Shhhhhhhhh," the leggy blonde purrs menacingly as she gives Sapperstein an assist back to verticality. "Not TOO much longer now." Aphrodite slips her left arm underneath Shawna's left, while her right hand reaches to gather that wrist and draw the brunette's left arm across her throat.
COBRA CLUTCH SLAM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL13_MKELRQ
As Ashley readies her cobra clutch slam on the legal woman in the ring, Pandora turns her attention to the still down and all but out Fuentes on the floor. Apparently unsatisfied with her vengeance against Sapperstein, the Beach Goddess takes Marisa's locks, and leads a crawling Cuban-American beauty away from the ringsteps... and toward the announcer station. "You're a pesky little mosquito," Panny mutters, shoving the Jersey Firecracker's head between her thighs and locking on a standing headscissors. "And I'm getting tired of having to swat at you..."
Slipping her arms around the challenger's midsection, Pandora prepares to hoist Marisa up onto her shoulders... and Gordy and Joanna prepare to take cover from the impending powerbomb.
Inside the ring, Locke takes an extra moment to gather herself and Sapperstein, Shawna showing no resistance. It's likely Aphrodite could have clutched to victory but apparently Matzah has earned something more demonstrative. Ashley provides it, launching Shawna HIGH in front of her, turning the copper-haired New Yawker at the highpoint and SLAMMING Sapperstein nearly THROUGH the canvas. The ring reverberates, Shawna bouncing an inch off the mat before settling to ragdoll status in a wide starfish next to the horizontal and frankly exhausted looking Goddess.
Outside, Pandora looks to provide what she had failed with Shawna. Tempting another disastrous counter only in the minds of the most hopeful FAWNatic, Marisa is launched into a front flip up the curvy frame of the blonde, ending seated on her shoulders. But there is no fight at the top this time and Panny surges to the announcer's table before thrusting the dusky darling through. Marisa's body sets off an explosion of scattered desk with what little is left of Fuentes ending in the middle of the wreckage.
With Fuentes disposed of to her utter satisfaction, Pandora turns and slides back into the ring. "Back to your corner, Panny," the official chides her, but she ignores the admonishment, approaching Aphrodite and offering the leggy blonde a hand up.
"You got enough left for this?" the Beach Goddess asks, and Locke nods. "OK, then." Ashley turns away from her partner, and lumbers over to the wreckage of Shawna. Yanking her up by the hair, Locke stoops down and nudges her head under Sapperstein's glutes and between her thighs. And as one blonde straightens and hoists the challenger up into the electric chair, Pandora charges into the ropes behind her. The Beach Goddess rebounds off the cables and springs past Ashley, who uses the time to gather up the brunette's wrists. When Panny hits the ropes in front of her, Ashley leans forward--just a little bit. And the former World and reigning Tag Team champion gets a running start into her leap, lifting one of those ridiculously long legs as far and as high as she can in front her, hoping to catch Shawna under the jaw with the BIGGEST Big Boot she can manage--and provide a boost to Locke's electric chair drop that would prove absolutely fatal to Matzah's title hopes.
ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP, SANS BIG BOOT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJSAC1Mxzx4
Even through the daze Sapperstein has entered, seemingly barely noticing as she is lifted atop the shoulders of the leggy near six-footer, the sight of Pandora getting her big boot that high and near draws a look of amazement and fright in the face of the New Yawker. It's quickly swept off as Ashley times her drop to Pandora's missile-like footwear. The force behind both surely puts a Shawna-sized dent in the canvas as the sound of Sapps' back and head hitting the deck is resounding. Behind it silence, as Shawna is knocked unconscious, ending in a wide starfish above the lounging Locke and beneath the hovering, lording Pandora. "NO," Panny says emphatically, first to the sleepy Sapperstein then louder to the once hopeful crowd, who respond with a bevy of boos.
Rising to one knee, Ashley swings a succulent stem over Shawna's midsection, settling into a straddle of the brunette's torso. Reaching back with her left arm, Locke scoops up and hooks Sapperstein's left leg, before leaning forward to effectively pieface the challenger with her right hand. Still, some--admittedly a very few--FAWNatics cling desperately to hope as the referee slides into position to check Shawna's shoulders...
ONE...
TWO...
THREE!!!!!
But it might as well be three hundred as three as the official counts out yet another victory for The Three. Locke continues to press Sapperstein's cheek to the canvas as the ref waves Shawna out and the ring announcer makes things official. "Your winner and STILL FAWN tag team champions...THHHEEE THHHRRREEEEEE!!!"
The crowd attempts to get a full throated protest underway but the ultimately dominating show has taken the energy from them, though hardly in the manner of both Spicy and Matzah. Focusing on the demolished pair one could imagine it their last foray into a ring, but the display seems par for the course at the ending of the champions' defenses. Panny and Adrianna move up the steps in line, slipping through the ropes to join a rising Aphrodite.
The referee reaches to raise Locke's arm, but she shrugs her hand away. Instead, she only allows her fellow Goddesses to each raise and arm, Pandora and Papadopoulos each sporting one of the title straps slung over her shoulder. Noticing one of the ringside cameramen zooming in, the Beach Goddess lowers herself to look directly into the lens. "Come one, come all," the curvaceous blonde boasts. "There's not a team in existence that can stop up. There's not a team that can be CREATED that can stop us. These..."
Pappy gives the faceplate of her title belt a possessive caress.
"There will NEVER be held by ANYONE else! EVER!"
At this point, who could argue with that?