Post by bigfan on Apr 5, 2017 16:15:56 GMT
The FAWNatics murmur as the card continues to satisfy their lusts. The ring announcer breaks the din.
“At this time will you please welcome... Rachelle Leah.”
The prodigal Step-MILF emerges from stage left and the startled crowd recovers enough to jeer loudly.. The drop-dead fortysomething blonde wears a curve-hugging, sleek black minidress, and absently passes a microphone back and forth between her hands until the boos lessen slightly. Once they finally do, Rachelle brings the mic to her lips.
“We’re baaaack,” the blonde bellows.
Rachelle Leah:
The response from the FAWNatics is RESOUNDINGLY in the negative and it doesn’t take long from the manager to scream at the assembled to shut their mouths.
“Bethany sent us off to work the lucha libre down in Monterrey and Mexicali and Acapulco ," Leah responds firmly. “She did not want us tearing apart those slack losers with overactive thyroids…The Three.”
The crowd roars with laughter at the thought of anyone having to protect FAWN’s greatest tag team ever. Rachelle Leah is not amused.
“Don’t believe it? Well, you’re going to see something happen to the team that dethroned them and it will NOT be pretty. Well, other than that my girls are involved. Ladies and gentlemen, hailing from Hidden Hills, California... Weighing in at 250lbs of the sexiest carnage you can possibly imagine... My pride and joy, the incomparable... the INVINCIBLE…AND YOUR SOON TO BE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS... Alyson and Beverly... THE VAAALLLLLLEEEYYY GIIIRRRLLLSSS!!!!!”
Alyson Valley:
Beverly Valley:
The FAWN Arena’s speakers come to life with the pulsing beat of Pink’s “Trouble.” The identical icons and one-time FAWN tag team champions join their manager/Mom, sharing the FAWN spotlight for the first time in many a moon.
Even with the time away, the trio’s exploits are enough to earn them a copious amount of hate between the shameless gawking of the blonde beauties . One universal truth of life in FAWN: it didn’t matter how wicked or duplicitous a girl might be, if she was gorgeous, she would receive her share of loud and lustful appreciation and with the Valleys, it was twice as nice.
The blonde beauties look exactly the same, even down to their sartorial choices for the evening: classic white fightin’ two-pieces with sequined trim, the tops adorned with the bedazzled script “Totally” and the tushes the word “Bytchin’!”
Rachelle Leah overtakes her stepdaughters once they reach ringside, ascending the steel steps while Aly and Bev jaw with a handful of FAWNatics. Once on the apron, Rachelle takes a seat on the middle rope, holding the cables open for the flaxen-haired twins to slide through. One twin—Aly or Bev? Who can tell—stretches and warms up, while the other absently twirls a few blonde locks around one finger.
Rachelle Leah joins them in the squared circle and guides them to the center, putting an arm around the shoulders of each until the catcalls drop to a level she can overcome. The manager turns to the upper stage.
“Get out here you Irish slugs. My ‘Girls’ ravaged the wrestlers south of the border, and that was fun, but there’s no better feeling than being FAWN Tag Team champs. So polish up that gold and get ready to hand those belts over.”
"And introducing their opponents...hailing from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at a combined total of two hundred and fifty-five pounds, they are the reigning FAWN Tag Team Champions...they are Maeve and Moira…the Ríúil KAAAAAAAAAAAANES!"
Maeve Kane:
Moira Kane:
Even as the announcer's voice trails off, the sound of Celtic pipes fill the arena, quickly morphing into a base-heavy electronica beat. The FAWNtrom flickers to life, but instead of displaying the usual Kanes entrance clip, something new has been created. Only once before have the Kanes and Valleys met in the ring, and while the twins may have won that encounter, they nonetheless took a considerably drubbing from the Irish siblings...the highlights of which now appear in a quick montage, much to the enjoyment of the audience.
In response, Beverly and Alison wheel toward Rachelle and whine in unison in protest, which in turn causes the step-MILF to turn her wrath on the announcer and the referee, demanding that they put an IMMEDIATE STOP to this "character assassination" of her darling girls. The officials merely shrug their shoulders, indicating their helplessness to do anything about it. With a HRUMPH, Leah turns her attention back to the top of the ramp, while Aly and Bev already have their narrowed eyes locked on the pair of figures who now emerge from behind the curtain.
The elder Kane, Maeve, is clad in a hunter green one-piece which hugs her lush curves and pushes up her impressive 36DD’s, while her sister Moira (an "Irish twin" at a mere 10 months younger) is garbed in a two-piece ensemble is of a matching shade of green than that of her sibling, and likewise highlights her not-unimpressive 34D’s. The Irishwomen stride down to the ring exuding nothing but absolute confidence. They have faced...and beaten...the best teams in the sport, and it was obvious that they were bound and determined to do the same again tonight, and to retain their gold. That gold, incidentally, is slung over a shoulder of each Kane.
Climbing up the ring stairs to the apron, Moira Kane gives an arch of an eyebrow and the barest of head nods to the referee, silently commanding him to sit on the bottom rope and open the cables up for them. This he did without protest...and much to the annoyance of the Valleys...and blonde Moira and redheaded Maeve stepped into the squared circle. The crowd explodes with cheers as the Kanes each jump up to a different corner turnbuckle and hold their title belts aloft, allowing the waves of adulation to wash over them.
Alighting back down to the canvas, the Champs hand their belts over to the referee, who passes them through the ropes to a ringside attendant. Standing in center ring, hands defiantly on their hips, the Kanes look their opponents up and down, and Moira says, "Yer fittingly named, 'cause we'll be on the mountaintops"...and with this, both Irish lasses thrust out their chests a bit more..."an' ye two scrangers will be down in the valley when this night is done."
The twins scowl at Maeve and Moira and seem ready to pounce, the Cali blondes not taking well to the younger Kane sister’s insults. But since the Riuls are each on the balls of their feet, ready for the attack, the challengers’ manager/stepmom places a palm on a shoulder of each and talks them back to their assigned corner. Rachelle Leah slides out through the ropes and one of the twins, we’ll say Beverly, moves through with her. The cougar drops to the floor and Bev remains at her post.
The champs move to the opposite corner and enter into a brief discussion. Moira heads out leaving the busty redhead to begin the Riuls’ defense.
Alyson moves to the center and Maeve joins her, the Irishwoman using her bounty to chest into the blonde. Aly is bumped off her position, skidding back a step before regaining her balance and scowling as the bell rings.
The wily veteran surges forward and collects Alyson in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. She quickly forces Aly into a backpedal. A few steps out from the Girls’ corner, Valley manages to pivot and sweeps the redhead past, shoving her to the buckles where Beverly waits on the outside with a fist at the ready.
But Maeve seems to read the twins’ minds and levels a right forearm into Beverly’s jaw. The blonde is sent flying from the apron and crashes to the floor below, at her stepmother’s feet.
A delighted Kane spins away from the wreckage and toward the interior of the ring, only to have Alyson snap her head back with a wicked, whipping European Uppercut that sends the champ flopping deep into the corner, Maeve’s arms draping over the top rope on either side.
Aly dives in close, lifting a pointed knee into Maeve’s breadbasket, drawing a deep gasp for breath from the Riul, Kane’s emerald eyes going wide. They get no smaller when the natural clone sinks a second and a third into Kane’s gut with enough force to send Maeve’s curvy frame folding between the upper and middle buckles.
With Rachelle Leah’s help, Beverly is back in place and tags her sister’s left shoulder. Inside, Alyson wraps an arm around Maeve’s braincase as turns toward the center of the ring, capturing Kane in a side headlock.
Her twin slips in and does the same from the opposite side and they race forward with the champ in tow. In unison, both blondes leap with legs extended and double-bulldog the auburn-haired grappler into the deck with impunity.
Maeve bounces halfway up to her knees, peepers green and glassy as she feints to a second faceplant into the canvas.
Confused, the ref chooses one of the Valleys and leads the correctly booted Alyson back to the Girls’ corner. Beverly scoops the gobsmacked Maeve over like a perfectly lumpy pancake and drops atop her in a crossbody for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Maeve saves herself and her sister from an embarrassingly early exit and a turnover of the tag titles. Kane rolls to her abundant chest and pushes to all fours where she tries to recover more of her wits before attempting a rise to vertical.
Beverly, already on her feet, sinks her ruby-tipped nails into Maeve’s auburn locks and mounts the Irishwoman like an equestrian. The twin rises slightly and SLAMS her pear-shaped behind into the lower spine of Kane, flattening the veteran to the canvas.
Quickly, Beverly settles into a catcher’s stance atop her foe and, one by one, posts Maeve’s arms over her bended knees. The final piece of her camel clutch is acquired when her laced hands cup under Kane’s chin and YANK back on the redhead’s head, neck, and spine.
From the outside, Moira can barely believe her eyes as these scraggers are making her big sister look like a rookie instead of one of the ONLY three-time FAWN tag champions.
Bev leeeans back, bowing Maeve’s back to impressive and terrible lengths, the arch agonizing and yet beautiful for those lucky enough to be in the front rows facing Kane’s considerable cleavage, the champ’s spandex forced to its limits to contain its contents.
Maeve’s cries are muffled by Bev’s cupped, constricting hands as is her response to the official’s offer to call the match if she submits and gives the belts to the Valleys. A stifled shake of her head is enough for the ref to wave off Rachelle Leah’s insistent claims the busty lass signaled her surrender.
After a dozen seconds of wrenching and riding, Beverly slips her cupped hands from underneath, exchanging it for a grip in Maeve’s mane. The twin stands and places a boot behind the braincase of her foe and CURBSTOMPS Kane’s flawless features into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Maeve’s face BANGS off the deck brutally and a smirking Valley, standing in a straddle over the face-down Riul, sweeps Kane over with a kick to the ribs. Maeve ends on her back, glassy eyes staring up at the baby blues of Beverly.
“Not exactly The Three, are you?” Bev asks calmly.
She leaps into air above the splayed Maeve, kicking out her legs to drop her genetically identical backside into Kane’s gut. But the stubborn redhead rolls out of the way and Valley plants her tailbone into the canvas like a lawn dart instead. A shockwave moves up and down a wincing Beverly’s spinal column, her hands reflexively shooting to her cheeks to try and massage away the pain, with very little success.
Maeve is hardly better if she is at all. Kane crawls desperately for her corner, slowly making the trek to her younger sister while Beverly rolls off her ass to hands and knees and moves likewise to hers.
It’s a race to the outstretched hand of a waiting flaxen-haired partner and it’s difficult to tell who might break the tape first.
As it turns out, Beverly is able to scramble more quickly, tagging the outstretched hand of her DNA doppelgänger. Thus, even though it is only the merest of moments later when Maeve does likewise with her own sister, Alyson has already slipped through the ropes and begun her dash to the opposite corner. The crowd lets out a roar as the Kanes brush fingers, but Moira is only a bit more than halfway through the cables before she is met with a running kneelift to the temple, courtesy of Aly. The Irish lass crumples with a loud moan to the canvas, her right leg still strung up over the strands.
Before pressing her advantage, Valley instead turns her attention to Maeve, who is crawling out of the ring, unaware of what has just occurred to her sibling. The redhead lets out a startled yip as she feels a hand grab the bottom of her ring togs, and an instant later she is "helped" out of the ring altogether, crashing in a heap to the cold arena floor.
Coincidentally, Rachelle opts to take a little stroll over to that side of the ring, and while the elder Kane claws at the ring apron and struggles to regain her footing, she is startled to find a pair of hands seizing her scarlet mane, pulling her head up and back; a heartbeat later her beautiful face is slammed into the edge of the mat. She remains standing as the step-MILF, smiling like the cat who ate the canary, struts back to the Valley's side of the battlefield, but the side of Maeve's face lay pressed to the canvas, her eyes glazed and her mouth slack.
Back in the ring, Alyson is likewise making good use of Kane tresses, as she hair hauls Moira up on her pins. Tucking the stunned blonde's head under her right arm, Valley grabs a handful of tights and executes a letter-perfect vertical suplex. Moaning Moira's back arches in anguish as her spine protests the impact.
Popping back up to her feet, the luscious lits jumeaux bends down toward her prone opponent, hands on her knees, and clucks her tongue disapprovingly. "Science has proven that the optimum number of hot blondes in any social situation is three," Valley purrs. "And as you can see, those three spots are more than ably taken by me, my sister, and our steppy. Not that you're anywhere near our class, but to the dweebs in the audience, you still kinda qualify as hot." Her voice taking a more sinister shade, she adds, "So I guess we'll just have to do something about that."
To fulfill her remark, Alyson places the sole of her boot upon Kane's eyes and viciously rakes it across her peepers, drawing a shriek from the now-blinded blonde. Moira rolls over onto her belly, intent on pushing up to her hands and feet, but Valley suddenly dropping her derriere down upon the Irishwoman's lower back puts a halt to those hopes. Alyson pulls her rival's arms up over her knees, setting Kane up for a camel clutch, but instead of cupping her hands under the Eire star's chin, Valley's fingers claw at her face, stretching her mouth wide, twisting her nose, and scratching her perfectly manicured nails across her victim, who screams like a banshee in pain, and with more than a touch of panic. Back in the FAWN locker room, tactics like this are known as 'Chaotic Catting'...done to overwhelm a girl not with wrestling maneuvers, but by threatening her vanity on a primal level. The result, as seen here, is that the victim is so overwhelmed, she can't formulate a plan of escape.
Luckily for Moira, the referee fully realizes that Bethany Christian would be very. very upset if one of FAWN's top stars had her beauty marred for life in a match, and he sharply warns Valley to cease and desist, moving quickly through his count. Pouting, Alyson removes her hands from Kane's face and stands up, releasing the embattled Irish lass. Valley struts a circuit around the ring, running her fingers through her luxurious golden halo of hair, almost seemingly bored with the match.
With Maeve still struggling to climb back up on the apron and resume her place in the corner, it falls to Moira to either withstand continued punishment and avoid defeat, or somehow even turn the tide. But if Aly has any say in the matter, neither is in the cards for the tag champ.
The twin finds Moira up to her haunches and sinks her nails into Kane’s flaxen locks, pulling her up to a straight kneel.
“You two are so overAHHH.”
Alyson’s voice rises in volume and pitch as Moira takes the opportunity to lift an uppercut between the challenger’s tanned legs. Kane’s forearm SLAMS into Valley’s kitty, driving Aly to tiptoes, her face twisted in agony from the crotch shot.
Did you forget little girl,” Moira pants. “Maeve and I were cheating when you were in junior high.”
As the younger Riul rises, she slips the stooped, groaning Alyson across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and shows her strength by rising to her feet.
With a delighted Maeve back in place cheering her sister on, Kane tests her balance. The blonde begins to spin clockwise, speeding her propeller until Alyson’s body is straight as a plank on her shoulders. The Airplane Spin in full centrifugal force, Moira dips and heaves through her tenth revolution and the Cali clone is sent flying.
Alyson doesn’t remain airborne long, crashing face and chest-first to the deck.
The challenger hits hard, flopping to her back from the impact. A dizzied Moira slows and wobbles. Perhaps aware she’s ready to tumble over herself from vertigo, Kane uses her collapse to her advantage, leaping into a senton above the twin, crushing the blonde underneath.
Alyson jackknifes around the impact, a great burst of an exhale escaping her lips as her clone and stepmom fidget on the sidelines.
Moira reaches behind and beneath her, cradling up Aly’s legs and shoulders so her foe’s in a tight ball then rocks Alyson back onto those shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Aly kicks her way free, popping out with a tick to go. Pushing to all fours, she crawls toward her uterus-mate, Beverly extending a hand as far as she can.
Next to her, Moira is up and stalking, puckering at Rachelle before stomping the right hand of her stepchild. Alyson yelps in pain, pulling her hand off the mat and holding it gingerly to her chest, bringing her advance toward a tag to a halt.
With Alyson pulling up to her haunches, Moira lets loose with a series of soccer kicks to Valley’s chest, the crowd chanting ‘YES’ with each blistering boot to the bosom. Kane lines up the tenth in the series and unloads, only to have Valley finally duck out of the way.
The champ pirouettes through the miss and is soon trailing Alyson as she tries to gallop on hands and knees to her sister. Grabbing an ankle of the challenger as Valley’s fingers flex inches away from salvation, Moira starts to tug her foe back toward the middle when Alyson rolls to her derriere and kicks her way free of Moira’s grip.
She dives blindly behind and manages to hit the fingertips of her twin. A grinning Kane motions Beverly in, but the challenger appears in no hurry, more concerned with helping her partner out.
“Get her back,” Bev demands when she’s ready to enter. Kane complies, though she takes some time to rev up the crowd while doing so.
“Shut you mouths,” Rachelle shouts in response. “My Girls need it to be quiet to concentrate.”
Beverly, halfway through, turns to her stepmom and nods knowingly. The FAWNatics don’t seem to agree, booing loudly.
With Valley distracted, Moira slips close and grabs Beverly by an ear, forcing her the rest of the way in, Bev yelping with dismay as she’s dragged toward a waiting Maeve in the Kanew corner at least until Valley’s right hand flashes at the overly pleased champ, raking across Moira’s eyes.
The Riul shrieks in pain, releasing Beverly and blindly waddling off toward a neutral corner, having lost her bearings. Maeve shouts at her younger sibling and Kane turns in the right direction when the blinded blonde walks right into a bearhug from the challenger.
Beverly surrounds Moira’s midriff, squeezes tight, lifts her fellow blonde off the canvas, and drops to one knee, violently and brutally splitting Moira’s wickets with an inverted Atomic Drop.
Moira hops into the air, features twisted in anguish. She lands in a pained, pigeon-toed squat, Maeve grimacing on the sidelines, feeling the sympathy pains for her sibling. Valley drives a toe kick into Kane’s navel, doubling the gasping champ. She surrounds Moira’s head with a front facelock and drags the Irishwoman back to the safety of the Girls’ corner where she’s slapped on the shoulder by Aly.
While one twin enters, the other is very slow to leave. As Alyson heads for the far ropes, Beverly shoves a reeling Moira forward. Aly rebounds at full speed toward the wobbly Kane, set up mid-ring like an Irish bowling pin.
As Alyson closes the gap from in front, Beverly shoots into action from behind and, with perfect synchronicity, the natural clones send Moira rocketing to the deck with their Sweet&Sweeter signature lariat and chopblock combo. The cooperation has Kane writhing on the canvas, cradling the back of her head with one hand while the other still kneads in the area of her undercarriage.
Both Valleys jump across Moira in dual crossbody pinning attempts. The ref drops to the canvas, slapping the mat once before he realizes one Valley, even if he knows not which, is illegal. He refuses to count again until one is off the splayed Moira. Beverly rolls away and Aly collects the pin and the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
A red-n-green flash enters from the side, knocking Alyson off the flaxen-haired Kane even as Moira kicks out in what looks like it might have been in time.
With all four combatants in the ring, the official has more than his hands full. Not knowing which Valley is legal, he heads for the elder Kane, sure she shouldn’t be in the ring. He ushers her to the Riul corner while two identical blonde jackals put upon Moira, maneuvering the poor Gaelic beauty into a mind-blowing and back-breaking Boston Crab/ Camel Clutch combo.
As Moira is arched to the breaking point, Rachelle Leah cheering her kids on to snap the spine of the champion, Maeve pleads with the striped-shirt to turn and catch the Valley Girls breaking her sibling. She tries to dive over the man’s shoulders to get to her sister, but the zebra catches and carries her to the corner where she curses loudly, stepping through if only to try and end Moira’s torture.
The man finally turns to see Beverly moving through the cables and a ragdolled Moira Kane being released from Alyson’s Clutch.
But Aly isn't showing mercy. Rather, grabbing Moira by her matted mane, she hauls her up to her feet, then...the irony...Irish whips her into, of course, the Valley's corner. There, she drapes Kane's arms over the top ropes, then lifts her left leg and places it atop the middle rope, and repeats the move with the blonde's right limb. Thus is the Irish battler strung up like a scarecrow.
Grasping the ropes, Alyson drives her shoulder into the gasping Moira's bread basket a few times, but to soften her up a bit. She then saunters back a few steps and, demonstrating that those ballet lessons she took in grade school aren't forgotten, she does a lovely pirouette. But that graceful motion is followed by one of pure brutality, as the tyrannical twin uses it suddenly lunge at her entrapped rival, slamming her knee hard and with malice into Moira's vulnerable groin. The Irish lass gives a piercing howl as she throws her head back. Aly presses her body against that of her opponent, taunting Kane my giving her ear a little lick of tongue.
Unable to watch this any longer, Maeve once more jumps through the ropes and makes a beeline toward the opposite corner...only to once again be intercepted by the ref. Aly turns and steps up behind the zebra, sticking her tongue out at the enraged redhead and laughing; meanwhile, Beverly has dutifully untied one of the turnbuckle pads and pulled loose the string, which she now wraps around Moira's throat, strangling her.
Furiously, Maeve grabs the referee by his shoulders and roughly turns him around. Aly tries to block his view, bringing her hands up in front of his face, but he cranes his neck and looks around her, and witnesses Bev garroting Moira. He gruffly tells Maeve to return to her corner instantly so he can deal with it, and she complies, happy that he'll at least alleviate her sister from her present circumstance. Beverly yanks the string away from the Irishwoman's neck under threat of disqualification, and the official then pulls Kane free of the corner.
Exhausted, Moira drops to her hands and knees, intent on crawling if necessary over to her corner. Aly and Bev share identical smirks of derision, then slap hands to exchange places. Almost casually they trade places, then Beverly struts over to Kane, who has agonizingly made it nearly a third of the way to salvation. Valley then drops her shapely derriere down upon Moira's lower back, drawing a grunt as the Irish battler's arms tremble to support the weight. She does nothing to impede her adversary's effort, merely grabbing Moira's long locks like reins and purring, "Giddyup!" The added burden of her rider makes Kane's struggle all the more daunting, but impressively she does not give up, slowly crawling closer to her sister. Nevertheless, no one in the arena or watching at home are deluded about the fact that Beverly will most certainly make the effort to prevent a tag. She clearly is just allowing both Kanes the tiniest flicker of home, before she intends to snuff it out.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a mere five feet separate Moira from her sibling's outstretched hand. She can feel Valley's grip on her hair tightening, and she knows that her tormentor is about to take some action to put a halt to her exodus. No one expects Moira to outwit her.
But then the co-tag champ does the unexpected! Without warning she suddenly lunges forward, somersaulting both herself and the startled woman sitting atop her back. In the blink of an eye, the distance between the Kanes is erased, and Beverly is flat on her back with Moira laying upon her. The Irish siblings brush fingertips, and Maeve fairly explodes through the ropes. Bev, pinned beneath Moira, let's out a shriek of surprise and panic as the redhead's hands reach down for her.
The elder Kane sinks her fingers into Bev’s golden mane, lifts her foe’s head and, with Moira a ‘paperweight’ atop Valley’s body, the redhead THUMPS the back of the challenger’s skull into the canvas, once, twice, thrice.
After releasing her foe’s noggin, Maeve offers her sister a hand and tugs her fellow champion to her feet. Concerned both Kanes are loitering over her stepdaughter, Rachelle Leah sends Alyson in to even the odds. But the Irishwomen are keenly aware and Aly barely gets both legs through and straightens to her full height before she’s NAILED by a double clothesline from the champs that sends her frame cartwheeling over the uppermost cable.
Alyson CRASHES onto her startled, wide-eyed stepmom and the women end in a tangled groaning heap to the absolute delight of the FAWNatics.
The Riuls share a high five and turn as one to Beverly, who’s made it to her haunches, her head on a bobble. Unaware of her handicap, the twin pushes wearily to her feet and into a double toe kick DEEP into her lightly tanned tummy. Valley doubles over with a guttural groan and leaves her lowered head on a platter for the Kanes.
The ref is slow to react as Maeve and Moira capture Bev’s braincase in dual front facelocks and instantly drop to their backs, violently tugging the challenger forward and down, SPIKING her skull into the deck with a double-DDT.
A somersaulting Beverly slides to a motionless stop, but the kipping Kanes are hardly finished, each reaching their feet with a pelvic thrust, in turn sending the crowd to their feet.
Caught in the moment, the referee stands spellbound as the women peel Beverly off the deck and, each with a wrist, send Valley speeding to the far ropes. The blue-eyed beauty rebounds toward the Irishwomen where she meets Moira, stationed dead center.
Bending at the waist, the blonde’s arms thrust into the front of the challenger’s thighs and she vaults Valley high into the air with a front flip in an apparent back body drop. But instead of landing on the canvas, a waiting Maeve deftly catches Kane atop her shoulders.
In the blink of her green eyes, Maeve wraps her arms around Beverly’s thighs and sits out, doubling the power of her bomb and making the classic Celtic Combo.
The mat reverberates with the sound of Valley nearly being driven through the canvas-covered plywood. Knocked into next week, and with Maeve still in possession of her lifeless legs, Beverly lies with her shoulders on the mat for the emphatic slaps of…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!
There’s nary a twitch from Bev and her natural clone is only now leaning wearily against the apron, eyes opening wide in horror as she witnesses the last fall of the official’s hand. Rachelle Leah is still on her haunches grasping at Aly’s legs, but the raspy yelp of ‘no’ from Alyson lets Mommie Dearest know the chance to once again manage the champions has been beaten back by the FAWN tag legends.
Maeve tosses Beverly’s limp legs aside and lets the blonde settle in a demolished jumble while Moira lends her sister a hand and tugs the redhead to her feet. The younger Kane swallows her sibling up in a tight embrace as the ring announcer makes the result official.
“Your winners…and STILL FAWN Tag Team Champions…Riul Kanes.”
The crowd erupts in a standing ovation as Moira kicks/rolls Beverly under the ropes and out, Valley plopping to the floor for collection by her likewise defeated twin. Maeve moves in the opposite direction, halting at the cables to receive two golden belts.
She raises each high before meeting her sister in the center and providing Moira her share of the loot. Together they turn to the lens, each holding the inner hand of the other high, reveling in yet another forceful display of why, though The Three might have been the most feared team ever, Riul Kanes would always be the most accomplished.
“At this time will you please welcome... Rachelle Leah.”
The prodigal Step-MILF emerges from stage left and the startled crowd recovers enough to jeer loudly.. The drop-dead fortysomething blonde wears a curve-hugging, sleek black minidress, and absently passes a microphone back and forth between her hands until the boos lessen slightly. Once they finally do, Rachelle brings the mic to her lips.
“We’re baaaack,” the blonde bellows.
Rachelle Leah:
The response from the FAWNatics is RESOUNDINGLY in the negative and it doesn’t take long from the manager to scream at the assembled to shut their mouths.
“Bethany sent us off to work the lucha libre down in Monterrey and Mexicali and Acapulco ," Leah responds firmly. “She did not want us tearing apart those slack losers with overactive thyroids…The Three.”
The crowd roars with laughter at the thought of anyone having to protect FAWN’s greatest tag team ever. Rachelle Leah is not amused.
“Don’t believe it? Well, you’re going to see something happen to the team that dethroned them and it will NOT be pretty. Well, other than that my girls are involved. Ladies and gentlemen, hailing from Hidden Hills, California... Weighing in at 250lbs of the sexiest carnage you can possibly imagine... My pride and joy, the incomparable... the INVINCIBLE…AND YOUR SOON TO BE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS... Alyson and Beverly... THE VAAALLLLLLEEEYYY GIIIRRRLLLSSS!!!!!”
Alyson Valley:
Beverly Valley:
The FAWN Arena’s speakers come to life with the pulsing beat of Pink’s “Trouble.” The identical icons and one-time FAWN tag team champions join their manager/Mom, sharing the FAWN spotlight for the first time in many a moon.
Even with the time away, the trio’s exploits are enough to earn them a copious amount of hate between the shameless gawking of the blonde beauties . One universal truth of life in FAWN: it didn’t matter how wicked or duplicitous a girl might be, if she was gorgeous, she would receive her share of loud and lustful appreciation and with the Valleys, it was twice as nice.
The blonde beauties look exactly the same, even down to their sartorial choices for the evening: classic white fightin’ two-pieces with sequined trim, the tops adorned with the bedazzled script “Totally” and the tushes the word “Bytchin’!”
Rachelle Leah overtakes her stepdaughters once they reach ringside, ascending the steel steps while Aly and Bev jaw with a handful of FAWNatics. Once on the apron, Rachelle takes a seat on the middle rope, holding the cables open for the flaxen-haired twins to slide through. One twin—Aly or Bev? Who can tell—stretches and warms up, while the other absently twirls a few blonde locks around one finger.
Rachelle Leah joins them in the squared circle and guides them to the center, putting an arm around the shoulders of each until the catcalls drop to a level she can overcome. The manager turns to the upper stage.
“Get out here you Irish slugs. My ‘Girls’ ravaged the wrestlers south of the border, and that was fun, but there’s no better feeling than being FAWN Tag Team champs. So polish up that gold and get ready to hand those belts over.”
"And introducing their opponents...hailing from Galway, Ireland, weighing in at a combined total of two hundred and fifty-five pounds, they are the reigning FAWN Tag Team Champions...they are Maeve and Moira…the Ríúil KAAAAAAAAAAAANES!"
Maeve Kane:
Moira Kane:
Even as the announcer's voice trails off, the sound of Celtic pipes fill the arena, quickly morphing into a base-heavy electronica beat. The FAWNtrom flickers to life, but instead of displaying the usual Kanes entrance clip, something new has been created. Only once before have the Kanes and Valleys met in the ring, and while the twins may have won that encounter, they nonetheless took a considerably drubbing from the Irish siblings...the highlights of which now appear in a quick montage, much to the enjoyment of the audience.
In response, Beverly and Alison wheel toward Rachelle and whine in unison in protest, which in turn causes the step-MILF to turn her wrath on the announcer and the referee, demanding that they put an IMMEDIATE STOP to this "character assassination" of her darling girls. The officials merely shrug their shoulders, indicating their helplessness to do anything about it. With a HRUMPH, Leah turns her attention back to the top of the ramp, while Aly and Bev already have their narrowed eyes locked on the pair of figures who now emerge from behind the curtain.
The elder Kane, Maeve, is clad in a hunter green one-piece which hugs her lush curves and pushes up her impressive 36DD’s, while her sister Moira (an "Irish twin" at a mere 10 months younger) is garbed in a two-piece ensemble is of a matching shade of green than that of her sibling, and likewise highlights her not-unimpressive 34D’s. The Irishwomen stride down to the ring exuding nothing but absolute confidence. They have faced...and beaten...the best teams in the sport, and it was obvious that they were bound and determined to do the same again tonight, and to retain their gold. That gold, incidentally, is slung over a shoulder of each Kane.
Climbing up the ring stairs to the apron, Moira Kane gives an arch of an eyebrow and the barest of head nods to the referee, silently commanding him to sit on the bottom rope and open the cables up for them. This he did without protest...and much to the annoyance of the Valleys...and blonde Moira and redheaded Maeve stepped into the squared circle. The crowd explodes with cheers as the Kanes each jump up to a different corner turnbuckle and hold their title belts aloft, allowing the waves of adulation to wash over them.
Alighting back down to the canvas, the Champs hand their belts over to the referee, who passes them through the ropes to a ringside attendant. Standing in center ring, hands defiantly on their hips, the Kanes look their opponents up and down, and Moira says, "Yer fittingly named, 'cause we'll be on the mountaintops"...and with this, both Irish lasses thrust out their chests a bit more..."an' ye two scrangers will be down in the valley when this night is done."
The twins scowl at Maeve and Moira and seem ready to pounce, the Cali blondes not taking well to the younger Kane sister’s insults. But since the Riuls are each on the balls of their feet, ready for the attack, the challengers’ manager/stepmom places a palm on a shoulder of each and talks them back to their assigned corner. Rachelle Leah slides out through the ropes and one of the twins, we’ll say Beverly, moves through with her. The cougar drops to the floor and Bev remains at her post.
The champs move to the opposite corner and enter into a brief discussion. Moira heads out leaving the busty redhead to begin the Riuls’ defense.
Alyson moves to the center and Maeve joins her, the Irishwoman using her bounty to chest into the blonde. Aly is bumped off her position, skidding back a step before regaining her balance and scowling as the bell rings.
The wily veteran surges forward and collects Alyson in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. She quickly forces Aly into a backpedal. A few steps out from the Girls’ corner, Valley manages to pivot and sweeps the redhead past, shoving her to the buckles where Beverly waits on the outside with a fist at the ready.
But Maeve seems to read the twins’ minds and levels a right forearm into Beverly’s jaw. The blonde is sent flying from the apron and crashes to the floor below, at her stepmother’s feet.
A delighted Kane spins away from the wreckage and toward the interior of the ring, only to have Alyson snap her head back with a wicked, whipping European Uppercut that sends the champ flopping deep into the corner, Maeve’s arms draping over the top rope on either side.
Aly dives in close, lifting a pointed knee into Maeve’s breadbasket, drawing a deep gasp for breath from the Riul, Kane’s emerald eyes going wide. They get no smaller when the natural clone sinks a second and a third into Kane’s gut with enough force to send Maeve’s curvy frame folding between the upper and middle buckles.
With Rachelle Leah’s help, Beverly is back in place and tags her sister’s left shoulder. Inside, Alyson wraps an arm around Maeve’s braincase as turns toward the center of the ring, capturing Kane in a side headlock.
Her twin slips in and does the same from the opposite side and they race forward with the champ in tow. In unison, both blondes leap with legs extended and double-bulldog the auburn-haired grappler into the deck with impunity.
Maeve bounces halfway up to her knees, peepers green and glassy as she feints to a second faceplant into the canvas.
Confused, the ref chooses one of the Valleys and leads the correctly booted Alyson back to the Girls’ corner. Beverly scoops the gobsmacked Maeve over like a perfectly lumpy pancake and drops atop her in a crossbody for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Maeve saves herself and her sister from an embarrassingly early exit and a turnover of the tag titles. Kane rolls to her abundant chest and pushes to all fours where she tries to recover more of her wits before attempting a rise to vertical.
Beverly, already on her feet, sinks her ruby-tipped nails into Maeve’s auburn locks and mounts the Irishwoman like an equestrian. The twin rises slightly and SLAMS her pear-shaped behind into the lower spine of Kane, flattening the veteran to the canvas.
Quickly, Beverly settles into a catcher’s stance atop her foe and, one by one, posts Maeve’s arms over her bended knees. The final piece of her camel clutch is acquired when her laced hands cup under Kane’s chin and YANK back on the redhead’s head, neck, and spine.
From the outside, Moira can barely believe her eyes as these scraggers are making her big sister look like a rookie instead of one of the ONLY three-time FAWN tag champions.
Bev leeeans back, bowing Maeve’s back to impressive and terrible lengths, the arch agonizing and yet beautiful for those lucky enough to be in the front rows facing Kane’s considerable cleavage, the champ’s spandex forced to its limits to contain its contents.
Maeve’s cries are muffled by Bev’s cupped, constricting hands as is her response to the official’s offer to call the match if she submits and gives the belts to the Valleys. A stifled shake of her head is enough for the ref to wave off Rachelle Leah’s insistent claims the busty lass signaled her surrender.
After a dozen seconds of wrenching and riding, Beverly slips her cupped hands from underneath, exchanging it for a grip in Maeve’s mane. The twin stands and places a boot behind the braincase of her foe and CURBSTOMPS Kane’s flawless features into the thinly-sheathed plywood.
Maeve’s face BANGS off the deck brutally and a smirking Valley, standing in a straddle over the face-down Riul, sweeps Kane over with a kick to the ribs. Maeve ends on her back, glassy eyes staring up at the baby blues of Beverly.
“Not exactly The Three, are you?” Bev asks calmly.
She leaps into air above the splayed Maeve, kicking out her legs to drop her genetically identical backside into Kane’s gut. But the stubborn redhead rolls out of the way and Valley plants her tailbone into the canvas like a lawn dart instead. A shockwave moves up and down a wincing Beverly’s spinal column, her hands reflexively shooting to her cheeks to try and massage away the pain, with very little success.
Maeve is hardly better if she is at all. Kane crawls desperately for her corner, slowly making the trek to her younger sister while Beverly rolls off her ass to hands and knees and moves likewise to hers.
It’s a race to the outstretched hand of a waiting flaxen-haired partner and it’s difficult to tell who might break the tape first.
As it turns out, Beverly is able to scramble more quickly, tagging the outstretched hand of her DNA doppelgänger. Thus, even though it is only the merest of moments later when Maeve does likewise with her own sister, Alyson has already slipped through the ropes and begun her dash to the opposite corner. The crowd lets out a roar as the Kanes brush fingers, but Moira is only a bit more than halfway through the cables before she is met with a running kneelift to the temple, courtesy of Aly. The Irish lass crumples with a loud moan to the canvas, her right leg still strung up over the strands.
Before pressing her advantage, Valley instead turns her attention to Maeve, who is crawling out of the ring, unaware of what has just occurred to her sibling. The redhead lets out a startled yip as she feels a hand grab the bottom of her ring togs, and an instant later she is "helped" out of the ring altogether, crashing in a heap to the cold arena floor.
Coincidentally, Rachelle opts to take a little stroll over to that side of the ring, and while the elder Kane claws at the ring apron and struggles to regain her footing, she is startled to find a pair of hands seizing her scarlet mane, pulling her head up and back; a heartbeat later her beautiful face is slammed into the edge of the mat. She remains standing as the step-MILF, smiling like the cat who ate the canary, struts back to the Valley's side of the battlefield, but the side of Maeve's face lay pressed to the canvas, her eyes glazed and her mouth slack.
Back in the ring, Alyson is likewise making good use of Kane tresses, as she hair hauls Moira up on her pins. Tucking the stunned blonde's head under her right arm, Valley grabs a handful of tights and executes a letter-perfect vertical suplex. Moaning Moira's back arches in anguish as her spine protests the impact.
Popping back up to her feet, the luscious lits jumeaux bends down toward her prone opponent, hands on her knees, and clucks her tongue disapprovingly. "Science has proven that the optimum number of hot blondes in any social situation is three," Valley purrs. "And as you can see, those three spots are more than ably taken by me, my sister, and our steppy. Not that you're anywhere near our class, but to the dweebs in the audience, you still kinda qualify as hot." Her voice taking a more sinister shade, she adds, "So I guess we'll just have to do something about that."
To fulfill her remark, Alyson places the sole of her boot upon Kane's eyes and viciously rakes it across her peepers, drawing a shriek from the now-blinded blonde. Moira rolls over onto her belly, intent on pushing up to her hands and feet, but Valley suddenly dropping her derriere down upon the Irishwoman's lower back puts a halt to those hopes. Alyson pulls her rival's arms up over her knees, setting Kane up for a camel clutch, but instead of cupping her hands under the Eire star's chin, Valley's fingers claw at her face, stretching her mouth wide, twisting her nose, and scratching her perfectly manicured nails across her victim, who screams like a banshee in pain, and with more than a touch of panic. Back in the FAWN locker room, tactics like this are known as 'Chaotic Catting'...done to overwhelm a girl not with wrestling maneuvers, but by threatening her vanity on a primal level. The result, as seen here, is that the victim is so overwhelmed, she can't formulate a plan of escape.
Luckily for Moira, the referee fully realizes that Bethany Christian would be very. very upset if one of FAWN's top stars had her beauty marred for life in a match, and he sharply warns Valley to cease and desist, moving quickly through his count. Pouting, Alyson removes her hands from Kane's face and stands up, releasing the embattled Irish lass. Valley struts a circuit around the ring, running her fingers through her luxurious golden halo of hair, almost seemingly bored with the match.
With Maeve still struggling to climb back up on the apron and resume her place in the corner, it falls to Moira to either withstand continued punishment and avoid defeat, or somehow even turn the tide. But if Aly has any say in the matter, neither is in the cards for the tag champ.
The twin finds Moira up to her haunches and sinks her nails into Kane’s flaxen locks, pulling her up to a straight kneel.
“You two are so overAHHH.”
Alyson’s voice rises in volume and pitch as Moira takes the opportunity to lift an uppercut between the challenger’s tanned legs. Kane’s forearm SLAMS into Valley’s kitty, driving Aly to tiptoes, her face twisted in agony from the crotch shot.
Did you forget little girl,” Moira pants. “Maeve and I were cheating when you were in junior high.”
As the younger Riul rises, she slips the stooped, groaning Alyson across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and shows her strength by rising to her feet.
With a delighted Maeve back in place cheering her sister on, Kane tests her balance. The blonde begins to spin clockwise, speeding her propeller until Alyson’s body is straight as a plank on her shoulders. The Airplane Spin in full centrifugal force, Moira dips and heaves through her tenth revolution and the Cali clone is sent flying.
Alyson doesn’t remain airborne long, crashing face and chest-first to the deck.
The challenger hits hard, flopping to her back from the impact. A dizzied Moira slows and wobbles. Perhaps aware she’s ready to tumble over herself from vertigo, Kane uses her collapse to her advantage, leaping into a senton above the twin, crushing the blonde underneath.
Alyson jackknifes around the impact, a great burst of an exhale escaping her lips as her clone and stepmom fidget on the sidelines.
Moira reaches behind and beneath her, cradling up Aly’s legs and shoulders so her foe’s in a tight ball then rocks Alyson back onto those shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Aly kicks her way free, popping out with a tick to go. Pushing to all fours, she crawls toward her uterus-mate, Beverly extending a hand as far as she can.
Next to her, Moira is up and stalking, puckering at Rachelle before stomping the right hand of her stepchild. Alyson yelps in pain, pulling her hand off the mat and holding it gingerly to her chest, bringing her advance toward a tag to a halt.
With Alyson pulling up to her haunches, Moira lets loose with a series of soccer kicks to Valley’s chest, the crowd chanting ‘YES’ with each blistering boot to the bosom. Kane lines up the tenth in the series and unloads, only to have Valley finally duck out of the way.
The champ pirouettes through the miss and is soon trailing Alyson as she tries to gallop on hands and knees to her sister. Grabbing an ankle of the challenger as Valley’s fingers flex inches away from salvation, Moira starts to tug her foe back toward the middle when Alyson rolls to her derriere and kicks her way free of Moira’s grip.
She dives blindly behind and manages to hit the fingertips of her twin. A grinning Kane motions Beverly in, but the challenger appears in no hurry, more concerned with helping her partner out.
“Get her back,” Bev demands when she’s ready to enter. Kane complies, though she takes some time to rev up the crowd while doing so.
“Shut you mouths,” Rachelle shouts in response. “My Girls need it to be quiet to concentrate.”
Beverly, halfway through, turns to her stepmom and nods knowingly. The FAWNatics don’t seem to agree, booing loudly.
With Valley distracted, Moira slips close and grabs Beverly by an ear, forcing her the rest of the way in, Bev yelping with dismay as she’s dragged toward a waiting Maeve in the Kanew corner at least until Valley’s right hand flashes at the overly pleased champ, raking across Moira’s eyes.
The Riul shrieks in pain, releasing Beverly and blindly waddling off toward a neutral corner, having lost her bearings. Maeve shouts at her younger sibling and Kane turns in the right direction when the blinded blonde walks right into a bearhug from the challenger.
Beverly surrounds Moira’s midriff, squeezes tight, lifts her fellow blonde off the canvas, and drops to one knee, violently and brutally splitting Moira’s wickets with an inverted Atomic Drop.
Moira hops into the air, features twisted in anguish. She lands in a pained, pigeon-toed squat, Maeve grimacing on the sidelines, feeling the sympathy pains for her sibling. Valley drives a toe kick into Kane’s navel, doubling the gasping champ. She surrounds Moira’s head with a front facelock and drags the Irishwoman back to the safety of the Girls’ corner where she’s slapped on the shoulder by Aly.
While one twin enters, the other is very slow to leave. As Alyson heads for the far ropes, Beverly shoves a reeling Moira forward. Aly rebounds at full speed toward the wobbly Kane, set up mid-ring like an Irish bowling pin.
As Alyson closes the gap from in front, Beverly shoots into action from behind and, with perfect synchronicity, the natural clones send Moira rocketing to the deck with their Sweet&Sweeter signature lariat and chopblock combo. The cooperation has Kane writhing on the canvas, cradling the back of her head with one hand while the other still kneads in the area of her undercarriage.
Both Valleys jump across Moira in dual crossbody pinning attempts. The ref drops to the canvas, slapping the mat once before he realizes one Valley, even if he knows not which, is illegal. He refuses to count again until one is off the splayed Moira. Beverly rolls away and Aly collects the pin and the win with the…
ONE…
TWO…
A red-n-green flash enters from the side, knocking Alyson off the flaxen-haired Kane even as Moira kicks out in what looks like it might have been in time.
With all four combatants in the ring, the official has more than his hands full. Not knowing which Valley is legal, he heads for the elder Kane, sure she shouldn’t be in the ring. He ushers her to the Riul corner while two identical blonde jackals put upon Moira, maneuvering the poor Gaelic beauty into a mind-blowing and back-breaking Boston Crab/ Camel Clutch combo.
As Moira is arched to the breaking point, Rachelle Leah cheering her kids on to snap the spine of the champion, Maeve pleads with the striped-shirt to turn and catch the Valley Girls breaking her sibling. She tries to dive over the man’s shoulders to get to her sister, but the zebra catches and carries her to the corner where she curses loudly, stepping through if only to try and end Moira’s torture.
The man finally turns to see Beverly moving through the cables and a ragdolled Moira Kane being released from Alyson’s Clutch.
But Aly isn't showing mercy. Rather, grabbing Moira by her matted mane, she hauls her up to her feet, then...the irony...Irish whips her into, of course, the Valley's corner. There, she drapes Kane's arms over the top ropes, then lifts her left leg and places it atop the middle rope, and repeats the move with the blonde's right limb. Thus is the Irish battler strung up like a scarecrow.
Grasping the ropes, Alyson drives her shoulder into the gasping Moira's bread basket a few times, but to soften her up a bit. She then saunters back a few steps and, demonstrating that those ballet lessons she took in grade school aren't forgotten, she does a lovely pirouette. But that graceful motion is followed by one of pure brutality, as the tyrannical twin uses it suddenly lunge at her entrapped rival, slamming her knee hard and with malice into Moira's vulnerable groin. The Irish lass gives a piercing howl as she throws her head back. Aly presses her body against that of her opponent, taunting Kane my giving her ear a little lick of tongue.
Unable to watch this any longer, Maeve once more jumps through the ropes and makes a beeline toward the opposite corner...only to once again be intercepted by the ref. Aly turns and steps up behind the zebra, sticking her tongue out at the enraged redhead and laughing; meanwhile, Beverly has dutifully untied one of the turnbuckle pads and pulled loose the string, which she now wraps around Moira's throat, strangling her.
Furiously, Maeve grabs the referee by his shoulders and roughly turns him around. Aly tries to block his view, bringing her hands up in front of his face, but he cranes his neck and looks around her, and witnesses Bev garroting Moira. He gruffly tells Maeve to return to her corner instantly so he can deal with it, and she complies, happy that he'll at least alleviate her sister from her present circumstance. Beverly yanks the string away from the Irishwoman's neck under threat of disqualification, and the official then pulls Kane free of the corner.
Exhausted, Moira drops to her hands and knees, intent on crawling if necessary over to her corner. Aly and Bev share identical smirks of derision, then slap hands to exchange places. Almost casually they trade places, then Beverly struts over to Kane, who has agonizingly made it nearly a third of the way to salvation. Valley then drops her shapely derriere down upon Moira's lower back, drawing a grunt as the Irish battler's arms tremble to support the weight. She does nothing to impede her adversary's effort, merely grabbing Moira's long locks like reins and purring, "Giddyup!" The added burden of her rider makes Kane's struggle all the more daunting, but impressively she does not give up, slowly crawling closer to her sister. Nevertheless, no one in the arena or watching at home are deluded about the fact that Beverly will most certainly make the effort to prevent a tag. She clearly is just allowing both Kanes the tiniest flicker of home, before she intends to snuff it out.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a mere five feet separate Moira from her sibling's outstretched hand. She can feel Valley's grip on her hair tightening, and she knows that her tormentor is about to take some action to put a halt to her exodus. No one expects Moira to outwit her.
But then the co-tag champ does the unexpected! Without warning she suddenly lunges forward, somersaulting both herself and the startled woman sitting atop her back. In the blink of an eye, the distance between the Kanes is erased, and Beverly is flat on her back with Moira laying upon her. The Irish siblings brush fingertips, and Maeve fairly explodes through the ropes. Bev, pinned beneath Moira, let's out a shriek of surprise and panic as the redhead's hands reach down for her.
The elder Kane sinks her fingers into Bev’s golden mane, lifts her foe’s head and, with Moira a ‘paperweight’ atop Valley’s body, the redhead THUMPS the back of the challenger’s skull into the canvas, once, twice, thrice.
After releasing her foe’s noggin, Maeve offers her sister a hand and tugs her fellow champion to her feet. Concerned both Kanes are loitering over her stepdaughter, Rachelle Leah sends Alyson in to even the odds. But the Irishwomen are keenly aware and Aly barely gets both legs through and straightens to her full height before she’s NAILED by a double clothesline from the champs that sends her frame cartwheeling over the uppermost cable.
Alyson CRASHES onto her startled, wide-eyed stepmom and the women end in a tangled groaning heap to the absolute delight of the FAWNatics.
The Riuls share a high five and turn as one to Beverly, who’s made it to her haunches, her head on a bobble. Unaware of her handicap, the twin pushes wearily to her feet and into a double toe kick DEEP into her lightly tanned tummy. Valley doubles over with a guttural groan and leaves her lowered head on a platter for the Kanes.
The ref is slow to react as Maeve and Moira capture Bev’s braincase in dual front facelocks and instantly drop to their backs, violently tugging the challenger forward and down, SPIKING her skull into the deck with a double-DDT.
A somersaulting Beverly slides to a motionless stop, but the kipping Kanes are hardly finished, each reaching their feet with a pelvic thrust, in turn sending the crowd to their feet.
Caught in the moment, the referee stands spellbound as the women peel Beverly off the deck and, each with a wrist, send Valley speeding to the far ropes. The blue-eyed beauty rebounds toward the Irishwomen where she meets Moira, stationed dead center.
Bending at the waist, the blonde’s arms thrust into the front of the challenger’s thighs and she vaults Valley high into the air with a front flip in an apparent back body drop. But instead of landing on the canvas, a waiting Maeve deftly catches Kane atop her shoulders.
In the blink of her green eyes, Maeve wraps her arms around Beverly’s thighs and sits out, doubling the power of her bomb and making the classic Celtic Combo.
The mat reverberates with the sound of Valley nearly being driven through the canvas-covered plywood. Knocked into next week, and with Maeve still in possession of her lifeless legs, Beverly lies with her shoulders on the mat for the emphatic slaps of…
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!
There’s nary a twitch from Bev and her natural clone is only now leaning wearily against the apron, eyes opening wide in horror as she witnesses the last fall of the official’s hand. Rachelle Leah is still on her haunches grasping at Aly’s legs, but the raspy yelp of ‘no’ from Alyson lets Mommie Dearest know the chance to once again manage the champions has been beaten back by the FAWN tag legends.
Maeve tosses Beverly’s limp legs aside and lets the blonde settle in a demolished jumble while Moira lends her sister a hand and tugs the redhead to her feet. The younger Kane swallows her sibling up in a tight embrace as the ring announcer makes the result official.
“Your winners…and STILL FAWN Tag Team Champions…Riul Kanes.”
The crowd erupts in a standing ovation as Moira kicks/rolls Beverly under the ropes and out, Valley plopping to the floor for collection by her likewise defeated twin. Maeve moves in the opposite direction, halting at the cables to receive two golden belts.
She raises each high before meeting her sister in the center and providing Moira her share of the loot. Together they turn to the lens, each holding the inner hand of the other high, reveling in yet another forceful display of why, though The Three might have been the most feared team ever, Riul Kanes would always be the most accomplished.