Post by bigfan on Aug 7, 2017 1:03:53 GMT
“Laaaaaadies and gentlemen,” the announcer boomed, “our next event is a title match for the Intercontinental Championship Belt!” On cue, the FAWNatics go mad, jolted to life at the promise of what's to come. “First, the challenger… hailing from Munster, Germany, standing at five feet, eight inches and one hundred and forty pounds… ALOISIA BERGE!”
ALOISIA BERGE:
“NEXT GIRL” BY THE BLACK KEYS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_PrT25o8Vs
As her music begins to play, the familiar curves of the professor slide through the curtain. Aloisia smiles at the FAWNatics, strutting down the aisle and slapping hands with attendees. She has never been comfortable with this part, the fan interaction. But she is considerably better at it than she was long ago. It's still awkward to feel all eyes on her, and she's not stupid – she knows a good chunk of FAWNatics are more fans of her body than herself. Still, it's good to be fighting.
Her usual red two-piece and matching boots are getting the night off. Instead, she is wearing a black one-piece that still manages, somehow, to be more revealing. A slim black V stretches from her crotch to her shoulders, connected behind her neck with a nearly invisible but strong strand. Two more black strips wrap around her sides. She wears matching mid-calf black wrestling boots. Aloisia had wanted to try something new out. The fact this attire seems to support her generous chest proportions, which seem to be growing since she joined FAWN, is a bonus to her. The fact almost all of the goods are on display and the back comes up like a thong is a bonus to fans.
She stops to sign occasional autographs. Some are still screenshots of her being stripped post-loss, but there's more now that are of just her or her post-win. The images of her losing to Trisha bother her less now. Truthfully, she's been way more focused on the humiliating loss she suffered at the hands – and toys – of Cindy Bash. Not that she didn't hate Trisha still. But… somehow, the Bash loss was more personal and managed to sink deeper into her brain, burning like a coal set to ignite its surroundings.
Aloisia reaches the ring and hefts herself up onto the skirt, sliding through the cables while pondering the match. Truthfully, this match didn't make sense. There are people who have records more deserving of a title shot against Trisha than Aloisia. She hadn't challenged Trisha, either. She doubted Trisha had arranged the match. Most likely, she tells herself, someone in booking is hoping for another giant upset ending with stripping and humiliation – starring her. The fact there is, to say the least, unaddressed rage from Aloisia towards the Minnesota Amazon also makes it a smart marketing angle, but Aloisia has been in FAWN long enough to get a general idea of what booking looks for: an epic fight followed by epic humiliation. Aloisia climbs the turnbuckles and waves to the fans, thinking to herself, Fine. That's what they'll get, but I won't be playing the victim today.
Aloisia is interrupted, almost mid-thought as the sound system booms to life again. The Heavy's "Oh, No Not You Again" ramping up to announce the champion.
“OH NO NOT YOU AGAIN” BY THE HEAVY:
youtu.be/dC4rumutsMI
TRISHA BELLE:
Trisha would usually relish and soak up the jeers, but her attitude has shifted with the IC title in her possession. The Minnesota Mauler bursts through the curtain sprinting down the ramp to the ring, the jeers flowing over her like wind through her hair. She gracefully slides head first beneath the ropes, popping up to her feet to show off that Berge wasn't the only girl who changed her outfit for the match. When she gets to her feet the FAWNatics get there first look at Belle in a new burgundy one-piece with a neckline that also plunges just past the navel. The outfit is accessorized with a thin black belt with an ornate golden buckle in the middle and the Minnesota girl is wearing her usual big black wrestling boots, this time with gold colored laces to better match the belt. After bouncing on her feet for a moment, Trisha looks to her shoulder and even feigns surprise at the IC belt draped over her arm. "Oh, right. I almost forgot about this old thing." She kisses the face of the belt and throws it up, with a cheer, showing it off to the FAWNatics in the arena, getting a large mixed pop of cheers and boos. Finally, the crowd settles down enough for the announcer to finish his job, "And, from Minneapolis, Minnesota, standing 5 feet 10 inches and weighing in at 150 pounds, your Intercontinental Champion, she's the Minnesota Mauler... TRISHAAAAA BEEEELLE!
Another chorus of boos begins, Trisha smiles, turning her smirk toward Aloisia as she remarks, "So, who do I owe for the pleasure of beating your ass for the, what, third, fourth time?" she chuckles as she reminisces about her history of bullying and torturing the German girl.
Aloisia arches an eyebrow. “You don't have your little shadow anymore. Shouldn't you be more worried about who's going to bail you out of all the trouble that gold-plated albatross is going to bring you?”
Trisha snorts as she hands the belt to a ring attendant. Both women allow themselves to be patted down by the referee, who is obviously expecting this match to be a nightmare for himself. Once sure no one is secretly armed, he motions for the bell.
The two women circle each other and lock up at the shoulders. Both fighters shove but neither gives. Through a toothy smile, Trisha coos, “I don't need the hillbilly dead weight to take your sorry ass down. I'm surprised you'd step into the ring with my again, or is it just that thrilling to have a real woman take control of you?”
Aloisia is MORE than aware Trisha was trying to get into her head. Thankfully, Berge doubted Aloisia had any interest on anything not directly involving herself so she probably wouldn't hear anything about her lost Christmas loss. But Belle seemed more focused on gloating, giving Berge a chance to roll back and flip her opponent. Trisha slams to the canvas and hops up immediately, spinning around just in time to catch a foot to the sternum. Trisha backs into the ropes and Aloisia charges her, slamming a chop across the chest. Trisha brings a heavy left across Aloisia's temple before shoving her back a few feet.
The fighters circle each other a bit more. Trisha lunges for Aloisia but the German kicks at her side. Unfortunately for Berge, her nemesis catches the leg and smiles. Aloisia smiles back, jumping and launching her free leg for Trisha's head.
Trisha's smile doesn't fade. Expecting the German girl to throw herself fully into this rematch of sorts, with the added weight of a golden belt on the line, she saw the spin kick coming. Belle just ducks her head enough for the kick to swing over her, Berge twirling gracefully in the air before falling to the mat, Trisha never letting go of the mocha girl's boot. The Minnesota Mauler just re-positions herself, almost sitting on Aloisia's back as she locks in an ankle lock, but adds torque and pull to the limb, bending it back to add the pressure of a single leg Boston Crab in an attempt to mangle her opponent's appendage early in the match.
Berge howls and groans, but when the ref approaches to check for a tap, she waves him away, gritting her teeth in frustration. Trisha cackles, "You sure you want to play it tough? Because I'm all too willing to tear your leg off at the socket!" she gloats, sticking her tongue out in a sadistic, almost child like display of glee. But still Berge refuses. In fact, the German born girl digs her nails into the mat and starts clawing her way to the ropes, dragging and stretching her already pain riddled leg as her fingertips stretch out and finally find the bottom rope, forcing Trisha to break the hold.
"Fine!" Trisha blurts, throwing Aloisia's leg to the mat hard, banging the already well wrenched knee with a smack to the canvas. Belle just backs into her corner, looking over Berge now like a lion eying a wounded gazelle. All but licking her lips as she crouches slightly, hands on the middle ropes, and stomps the canvas with her big black boots.
Trisha paws at the canvas like a bull ready to charge while Aloisia pulls herself up. From Trisha's standpoint, Aloisia is sluggish because she's already worn down. But in actuality, Aloisia's just enjoying a slow pace to antagonize Trisha. Plus, from the German's view, the Mauler might was well be yelling, “I'm about to charge you!”
Sure enough, as soon as Aloisia's on her feet and turns around, she sees Trisha coming at her full speed with an arm out for a clothesline. Aloisia manages to bend backwards a la Matrix while driving out an elbow to greet her attacker. The elbow bites into Belle's ribs, cutting her charge short. Belle stumbles and turns, clutching the point of impact and snarling. As she turns to face Aloisia again an arm flies across her throat, laying her out.
Belle is barely on the canvas, though, before hopping up and staring daggers at a now smirking Aloisia. Trisha slams a forearm across Aloisia's chest, sending her meat shelf into a jiggle. Aloisia returns fire. The women glare at each other before whipping themselves into the ropes behind them and rushing each other, slamming their bodies together in a show of dominance. Neither woman goes down. They do it again off different cables. Same, neither woman gives.
Once more, the women go to cables and bounce themselves off. This time, however, Aloisia has decided for a different strategy, launching herself in a missile dropkick perfectly aimed where Trisha's head should be.
“Should be” are the operative words. Aloisia sails and looks down only to see Trisha skidding across the mat in an attempted baseball slide take down. It's only a brief second but feels like forever as both women, going VERY fast, lock eyes and share a moment not of mutual hate but mutual, “We may have made mistakes.”
Trisha's slide sends her under the opposite ropes as she slips out of the ring by mistake, standing slightly awkwardly as she looks back to her opponent. Aloisia, at the same moment falls to the mat, her hip hitting the canvas hard, but Berge quickly scrambles to her feet again, just as Belle rolls back into the ring. The two scramble to their feet almost simultaneously and rush toward each other again. This time however, both Trisha and Aloisia think exactly alike, both amazons going for a clothesline and the two wrestlers' arms make full contact, sending Belle and Berge falling back to the canvas with a thunderous crash.
The FAWNatics are on their feet at this display, although more than a few are getting a good laugh as well. The referee starts his count. “One… Two….”
Instantly the women push themselves to their feet. The fighters lock up but instantly Aloisia flips Trisha with an arm drag. To the German's consternation, Belle doesn't go down but manages to catch herself with her feet. It's now the Mauler's turn, still locked to Berge, to flip the professor with an arm drag. Aloisia hits the mat in a sitting position. Belle rams a kick into the base of Berge's spine, then sends another into her face to lay her out. For good measure, the champ stomps on the knee she'd been working on three times before kicking it full force.
“This is a wrestling match,” the referee reminds. “How about some wrestling?”
“Champs do what they want,” Trisha hisses as she reaches down for Aloisia's legs. The Pretty Polynesian greets her by kicking her legs up and scissoring them around Trisha's neck, squeezing and then flipping the Minnesota amazon to the canvas. Aloisia positions herself atop Trisha's shoulders and manages to drive a few punches between the eyes to daze. While the referee scolds, Aloisia rises, steps back and leaps for a standing moonsault.
STANDING MOONSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCH5kGRT0-o
Trisha's eyes roll in her head for a moment after the sudden surge from Berge, but she shakes the daze just in time to see Aloisia with her back turned and launching into a perfect standing moonsault. Or it would have been perfect if Belle hadn't countered by tucking in her legs, greeting Aloisia's ample chest as it lands with pointed knees. Berge groans on impact, "UUUGHHH!" completely taken by surprise with the counter. The Minnesota Mauler doesn't let up, either. Instead, Trisha grabs a fistful of Aloisia's thick hair. Before the ref can complain about the hair hold, she throws a knuckle into the breathless Polynesian girl's temple, one, two, three swift knuckle strikes hit before Belle goes for the kill. She drags Berge by the hair into her lap where she locks her arms around Aloisia's neck with a sleeper while her legs snake around the busty beauty's waist, all happening in center ring, far from the sanctuary of any ropes. Trisha brushes her lips close to the German girl's ear, "Familiar territory for you, huh? No where to go but down and out. But you're use to it, I'd think. Just take the nap and the loss, little girl." she taunts her opponent, trying to embarrass her or convince her enough to tap or accept her fate as a sleeping loser.
Aloisia doesn't reply, not even a snide comment. Instead, she's accessing the situation. Trisha's arms are locked on so there's no point even trying to break them. Same with her legs. On her knees with Belle acting as malicious Yoda on her back, Aloisia thrusts her head back a few times into Trisha's nose and mouth. It won't break the hold, but it'll distract a little while Aloisia shifts and adjusts. Belle's heavier but only by ten pounds. Berge realizes this is doable.
Steeling herself, Aloisia struggles up to her feet, holding Trisha onto her back. Trisha decides to make this more difficult by “accidentally” turning the sleeper into a choke, which the referee warns her about. When that fails, Trisha begins ripping Aloisia's head side to side, trying to hurt her neck muscles.
Despite this, Aloisia gets up to a stoop, with Belle frantically trying to pull her over either way. Once up, even if unsteady, Aloisia flops backwards, making sure to slam the back of her skull full-force into Trisha's mouth. The champ rattles underneath her but never releases. That's okay, though. Aloisia plants her feet onto the mat and pushes her waist up, rolling back on top of her attacker for a pin.
ONE!
T--
Belle releases and shoves Berge off of her, crawling from under the woman. Trisha rubs her mouth and licks her teeth to make sure she's not bleeding. No crimson. She sees Aloisia rolling to all fours and stomps the woman on the back. Berge takes it but keeps moving. A stomp to the back of the neck, however, almost flattens Aloisia out. Annoyed by the persistence of this woman she's beaten twice, Belle decides it time to make a point. While Aloisia gets up, Trisha bounds herself off the cables behind her and aims a Belle Ringer for Aloisia.
BELLE RINGER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2S1GD_NbIQ
But Aloisia's head isn't where Trisha hoped. Seeing her attacker on the move, Berge forces herself up and manager to barely sidestep the limb thrust towards her. Better year, Aloisia grabs the gam and holds it while raising an elbow, which she promptly drops towards Trisha's knee.
The Minnesota Mauler grimaces and hisses between gritted teeth. But responds by jumping up, her free leg swinging surprisingly swiftly up into Berge's skull. Belle's booted toe connects harshly with the Polynesian Beauty's temple, taking Aloisia totally off guard and her body goes limp for a moment, falling to the canvas in a heap. Trisha goes down after her, straddling the German's chest as she lifts Berge by her hair so the dazed girl's face is buried in Belle's belly. Trisha makes it seem she's going for a belly or crotch smother, selling it by grinding her opponent harshly. But, in reality, Belle's strategy is actually grinding her outfit's belt buckle into her pretty opponent's face to see what kind of damage that will do, all the while muffling any protests by keeping Aloisia's mouth covered by flesh and fabric.
When Dr. Berge finally shoves herself away from, her head hitting the mat, the referee immediately notes the three lines of faint red – two on Aloisia's forehead, one on the bridge of her nose. The lines quickly darken as trickles of blood form. Aloisia wipes the blood and looks at her hand. The official looks to Trisha and starts to scold her.
Cutting him off, in the least convincing apologetic tone ever, she holds up her hands. “I don't even know howOOOOOOOOOW!” Trisha's mouth and eyes round out at Aloisia kicks her feet up and plants one between Trisha's legs. The other slams onto the metal buck on Trisha's belt. Belle spills backwards, agonized by sharp pain from her womanhood and metal pressing into her gut. The champion manages not to fall onto her back, instead scrambling backwards to the ropes.
Aloisia stands, smiling as little red streams trickle down her face. “Well, this changes a lot,” she hisses. The professor's eyes look almost possessed. Trisha isn't a fan of it, frankly, and launches herself from the ropes and onto Aloisia. Grabbing the German by the sides of her face, Trisha uses her momentum to drive Berge backwards into the mat. The ring shakes and Belle goes for a pin.
ON--
Aloisia bucks Trisha off. Belle is, to say the least, annoyed. Still, if she wants more pain, Trisha's happy to help. Belle pulls Berge up and begins to sling her over her shoulders for a torture rack. As she settles the woman into place, Trisha sees a claw full of manicured fingernails closing in straight on her eyes.
And this visual warning leaves just enough time for the Mauler to WRENCH the rack as hard as she can, doing her damnedest to completely interrupt the Professor's momentum with pain. She pulls at Berge's neck and leg so hard, attempting to dislocate the already battered limb while also bending the poor girl's back into an unnatural inverted U shape, and finally placing immense pressure at Aloisia's chin. Belle even smoothly slides her forearm along her seemingly helpless opponent to place pressure on the already red throat of Berge, not letting her catch any breath at all if it's up to her.
The referee starts to check for submission but realizes what he's seeing. “That's a choke! Break the choke!”
“What's a 'choke?'” Trisha asks with a smirk.
“BREAK… THE… CHOKE!” The referee begins counting, but at three Trisha interrupts him.
“I don't lose the belt with a DQ, do I?” The champ's smirk grows into a gloating smile. But the fingers she narrowly avoided earlier jab as far into her ocular cavities as their current occupants will allow. Trisha roars with rage as she dumps Aloisia, who lands on her forehead.
Aloisia isn't on the mat long, as Trisha quickly finds her, even if after a bit of groping, and pulls her up by her long silky hair. Using the mane as a handle, she whips Aloisia into a corner. Berge's face slams into the top ring buckle, leaving a red smear on it. Berge's eyes focus on the turnbuckle covering, sliding under it briefly, before turning.
Immediately, Berge catches a body splash, flattening her into the corner. Trisha pries her body off Aloisia's, offering a slap across Berge's breasts, then throat and, for final insult, cracks an an open-palmed slap across Aloisia's cheek.
The FAWNatics erupt in rage, and Trisha takes a rare moment to turn to them and raise her arms triumphantly, before returning to Aloisia, wrapping her neck in a headlock, and rushing from the corner in a bulldog.
Trisha piles insults to Berge's numerous injuries, wiping her free hand on the crimson streaks on Aloisia's face, spreading the blood on the poor girl's mug, making a blood red mask for the PhD holder. Trisha then gets even more jeers from the fans as she likes the blood from her hand with gusto. Belle then bolts from the corner and leaps into a bulldog that slams Berge's gushing visage to the canvas, a significant red stamp left at the point of impact.
The Minnesota Mauler then rolls her mangled opponent to her back and hooks a leg for a pin. The ref slides in for the count.
“ONE…
TWO…
THR-NO!”
He stops as the battered Berge somehow finds the will to raise a shoulder.
Trisha scoffs. “Fine. You want more. I’ll be glad to oblige you, girly.” As she rolls the still very woozy Aloisia’s head back and forth from one cheek to another on the mat. Then Belle throws a swift punch to the German’s solar plexus. A swift rush of air escapes from the battered girl’s lips, sending her into fits of coughs and sputters.
And with that, the Minneapolis native decides to put Berge down slowly and harshly. She saddles up beside the bruised and bleeding girl, places one hand over Aloisia’s mouth and nose, then the other and presses a firm hand smother into place to end this match with some pathetic squirming.
Aloisia struggles but the struggle quickly slows. Her eyes begin to flutter. The referee picks up her wrist.
It drops.
He picks it up again.
It drops.
Trisha chuckles to herself. The first defense and it was a bloody, messy easy win over someone she loved beating around. She relaxed as she thought about the belt sliding back around her waist.
Relaxing was a mistake, though. Aloisia's eyes pop open in a fashion befitting a horror movie, almost making Trisha jump back. Before she can lean down with more pressure, Berge's balled up fish slams into Belle's ribs. The Minnesotan swears as she pulls away, clutching the point of impact. Aloisia rises, glaring through blood in a way that reminds Belle of a horror slasher. But Aloisia isn't a slasher. She's a woman she's put down before, and damned if she won't do it again.
Belle launches at Berge, grabbing her up in a bearhug that pins the woman's arms to her side. The Mauler lifts and squeezes, enjoying the grunts of her prey. The FAWNatics may hate Trisha, but they adore the visual of both women's racks slammed together and the jumbotron is sure to offer various angle shots. Trisha juts her knee out and slams Aloisia's crotch down on it. She raises her and does it again. Berge lets out an agonized moan just as Belle suplexes her, slinging her sloppily to the mat. Aloisia stares up blankly as Trisha rises and lifts a leg for a guillotine legdrop.
Belle’s leg lands flush across Berge’s throat, and the German bucks hard after the impact, her trachea slightly collapsing under Trisha’s leg. She coughs and sputters as the Minnesota Amazon hooks both the professor’s legs in a roll up that should ensure her first victory.
The ref slides in and almost lazily slaps the mat again, everyone expecting the outcome already.
ONE!
TW-NOOO!
“WHAT!?” Trisha screams in disbelief as Aloisia digs deep and kicks out. Belle’s jaw drops wide as she can’t believe her title defense hasn’t ended yet. But Berge rolls to her stomach and crawls to the ropes, reaching for the bottom strand to help her to her feet, every part of her body drooping lazily, showing her fatigue.
Belle stands, eyes still wide with surprise, then turning angry. The murderous Minnesotan throws herself down, aiming a pointed elbow drop to fall across her crawling opponent’s spine.
Aloisia attempts to pull away, instead catching the elbow in the upper right arm. She clutches the elbow and stumbles back to the corner she already decorated with her blood. She pants, seemingly exhausted, and stares into space while her hand returns under the turnbuckle padding to hold herself up.
Trisha stands, fuming. “Okay, fine. You chose where you wanna die. That's fine. That's good.” The champion paces angrily around the ring until she finds herself in the corner directly opposite. Suddenly, Trisha charges, leaping with another mighty splash at the slowed Aloisia.
Only Aloisia suddenly isn't slow.
It all happens so fast. Trisha, in the air, sees Aloisia look up at her and smile before yanking away from the corner. With her goes the top turnbuckles covering. Suddenly, Trisha knows what Aloisia was really doing while reaching under it. Even more suddenly, Belle lands with the bare turnbuckle slamming right into her throat. A boot to the back of the neck drives it in further and Trisha feels her throat getting scratched.
The doctor grabs Trisha's main and bangs her head into the bare turnbuckle over and over until she sees a bit of crimson spatter. It only takes three quick hits, it turns out, before slinging Trisha from the corner to the mat. The zebra steps up.
“Keep her out of the corners, Aloisia!”
“THAT'S DR. BERGE TO YOU!” the challenger snaps, thrusting a finger in his face. The official is caught completely off guard by the sudden shift in personality. “And why is it okay for her to cheat but not me?”
The referee stammers. “I never said--”
Berge leans down and rips the belt from Trisha's waist and shoves the buckle in his face. “That's my blood on this! You did NOTHING!”
“I… didn't kno--”
Swinging the belt around, Aloisia roars on. “You'd probably let her do this to me!” Aloisia rains slaps from the belt down on Trisha's face and cleavage.
The referee is horrified. “I would nev--”
“You'd even let her do this!” Aloisia swings the belt, slapping the flat of the buckles across Trisha's right cheek, then swings it again. The hook on the back of the buckle bites in deep on Trisha's left cheek, immediately cutting it open.
The referee comes out of it. “HEY! YOU CAN'--”
“It was fun while it lasted,” the professor says, tossing the belt from the ring. She drops behind Trisha's shoulders and wraps her legs around Belle's throat to squeeze.
Blood trickling down several places on her face, Belle gasps as much as she can through her squeezed neck, her face immediately going flush in the elevated scissors, adding to the red liquid already running down her forehead and cheeks. Trisha instinctively grasps at Berge's considerable thighs, prying at them with her hands, and even showing her remaining power as she almost is able to pry the scissors off of her head. However, with a little effort the professor snaps her legs shut again and wraps one foot into the crook of the opposite leg, locking in a figure-four headlock to drain the champ.
Trisha grabs and scratches at Aloisia's thighs frantically, but to no avail. Berge just rocks and jerks back and forth, adding torque to the pressure at Trisha's neck and soon, the unthinkable happens. Trisha begins to slow. After a long and seemly unending stretch with the momentum of the match on her side, Trisha is now in trouble. Her head swims, her lips sputter weakly as she loses more air from her lungs and is unable to replace it with a fresh breath. She even starts to reach out in front of her, seeming to plead with either the FAWNatics in the crowd or phantoms only she can see for their help. Finally, she reaches up high, looking into the bright lights of the arena for a second, then her arms fall limp. Unfortunately for the now dominant Berge, Belle's left arm falls in a wide arc and lands lightly on the bottom rope, barely held up by Trisha's fingertips. The ref closes in and makes the call. "She's on the ropes, Berge. Break the hold.”
Aloisia hesitates, then looks at the referee. She looks down at Trisha. “Don't you have to count?”
It is not behavior expected from Aloisia. The FAWNatics approve but the referee is taken aback. Still, he begins a count and gets to four before Aloisia releases. Trisha breathes in, gulping as much air as she can while Berge rises.
“Don't make me DQ you,” the zebra warns the German. She glares at him, then grabs Trisha's legs and yanks her from the ropes as hard as she can. The referee throws his hands up, unsure what to even do at this point.
Aloisia slides her hands into Belles top and pulls the Minnesotan up by her breasts with well-placed claw holds. Trisha fires a volley of fists into Aloisia's belly. The referee warns of closed fists while Aloisia slams her hand down into the back of Trisha's neck, stunning her. “Timber,” Aloisia growls while wiping blood from her eyes. With that, she loops a leg over one of Trisha's arms, palms the back of her head and plants her into the mat with a Descrator.
DESECRATOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovN4bfQiQoE
Trisha flops to her back. Aloisia slides up her body like a snake, resting her endowments about Trisha's mouth and nose. Lacing her legs into Belle's and holding her wrists down, Aloisia settles in for a breast smother/grapevine combo.
Trisha is the helpless one now, as Aloisia settles in position, fully embracing a darker side as she slides her cleavage into position for a satisfying smother. Belle rolls as much as she can in the grapevine, her nose and mouth looking for a position where she can sneak a breath, but even after a few stolen short gasps Berge grinds down hard, Trisha's nose mashed against the German's sternum and flesh, unable to avoid the smothering.
Again, the Minnesotan struggles, but her squirming slowly fades to slight shifting, her fingers scratching the mat in frustration until she can only let out a final sigh, her body shuddering not with pleasure, but from exhaustion and lack of oxygen. Aloisia triumphantly looks out to the crowd, her smile more evil than it has ever been. But as mean as she's been, she still wants to win her first title the old fashion way. So, she releases Trisha's wrists, unwraps her legs from the Mauler's and hooks one of Belle's thighs for the pin, her free hand rubbing the champs bloodied and sweaty features as she waits for the count.
ONE…
TWO…
THR-NOOO!
This time its Berge’s time to drop her jaw to the mat in disbelief.
“COME ON!” she yells as Trisha’s weighty leg snaps to the mat, a shoulder rolling weakly up so she can keep her belt.
Aloisia's face flushes with rage, but mostly at herself for making the same mistake Trisha made earlier. She looks down at Belle's blooding visage and wipes some of the American's blood from her own cleavage. The professor stands, grabbing Trisha by the ankles, and pulling her center ring. She slams her boot down on Belle's womanhood, grinding the heel in and drinking in the agony on her foe's face. Stepping over on of Trisha's legs and folding the other, Berge flips Belle into a sharpshoooter.
SHARPSHOOTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ku2HtEMkaG4
Trisha shakes to life, punching the canvas but refusing the referee's asking on submission. She tries to power out, but Aloisia's locked on like a tick getting fat. Desperate, Belle reaches back and grabs hold of Aloisia's long hair. She rips hard, snapping Berge's neck back, and then pulling her backwards. Aloisia, in pain and shock, releases the hold and falls to the canvas.
Belle flies into a rage, ripping her nails into Aloisia's eyes and blinding her. The German rolls to her side and Trisha grabs her under the chin. Pulling Berge up to a seated position, the Mauler puts both feet into her back grabs onto Aloisia's wrists, and pulls back for a surfboard while Aloisia struggles to break free.
Belle LEANS back, pulling the knelt professor's arms so harshly her shoulder blades all but close around Trisha's boot like a bear trap. There is so much pressure put on Aloisia's outfit, its a wonder the one piece doesn't tear at one of its many flimsy straps and seams. Trisha gives a final tug to the PhD recipient's arms before she starts getting up, still holding Aloisia's wrists firmly as she rises, leaving the bruised beauty knelt before her. The Minnesota Mauler finally screams at her opponent, "I gave you a chance to take a nap earlier. Remember that, Berge? Well you should have just taken the nap and left it at that." And with that, Trisha places her boot at the back of the Pretty Polynesian's neck and curb stomps her to the canvas without thinking twice.
Aloisia's forehead bounces off plywood and the woman goes still. Trisha is enraged that Aloisia's come this far and that vitriol amps when she sees the woman squirm sluggishly. “For someone who's smart, you're too dumb to know when to quit!” Trisha booms. The champ drops to her knees on Aloisia's back and cranks her head back. “Just so we're clear,” Belle hisses, “everything I've done to you before? It will look like foreplay compared to this.”
Aloisia looks back at the woman, then spits a stream of red into Trisha's face. The blood immediately vanishes into Trisha's own. Belle palms the back of Berge's head and slams it down. Standing, Belle stretches, popping her back and then her neck while trying to catch her breath a little. She eyes the uncovered turnbuckle. Yeah. That'll do.
She yanks Aloisia up by the arm, nearly removing the limb from its socket, and slings the professor into the turnbuckle. Aloisia's mouth and nose hit the bare connector. Trisha rushes her, leaping and splashing into Aloisia. The Polynesian beauty's face is crushed, reopening clotting wounds. But this is not enough for Trisha. Not even close. The refusal to just lose is an insult Trisha Belle cannot abide. She pulls Aloisia from the corner, shoves Aloisia's bloody head between her thighs, and prepares her for her finisher, the Belle Toll.
THE BELLE TOLL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRupuW-tNMw
But before Trisha can reintroduce her enemy to the mat, the arena lights go out. Trisha blinks, unsure what happened at first, almost wondering if she'd passed out from blood loss and this was a dream. Then, music began piping into the arena and Trisha could smell heavy chemical smoke from a smoke machine.
THEME FROM MASK OF THE PHANTASM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-m0ehT3_mo
The lights go up slightly – only slightly. Trisha feels the mat shake as something, or someone, drops onto it. In the midst of the smoke is the outline of a woman with wavy hair, a catsuit, and a flowing cape. Belle's eyes widen. She knows that form. It's a certain do-gooder who a lot of people in FAWN would love to see unmasked and ended.
Trisha slings Aloisia to the side. The professor lands on her hip and looks up at the form. Listening to the music, she mutters, “But that's not your them--”
Belle rushes the outline of the woman and grabs onto her with ease. The heroine doesn't fight. In fact, she goes limp in Trisha's arm. Belle bearhugs her so tight, she's almost like a doll in her arms. The lights go up.
Trisha Belle finds herself bearhugging a life-sized ragdoll in a cap, catsuit, and mask. Pinned to her chest is a note that says, “Boy, is YOUR face CRIMSON!”
Trisha blinks. What the--
But Trisha doesn't see while all of this goes down is a FAWNatic in the front row, in trench coat and pulled down cap, jumping the guardrail. Slinging the hat and coat off, a familiar face appears.
RUE ANN MACKENNA:
Rue Ann grabs the folding chair she'd been sitting in the entire show and barrels into the ring. Just as Trisha's realizing this is a set up, she turns in time for the Hellbilly to bring the edge of the chair's back across her temple. Belle, exhausted, stumbles while Rue slings the chair behind her. She grabs Trisha and hurls her from the ring, jumps onto the top rope like a gargoyle, and jumps towards her fallen former friend.
The referee motions the time keeper, who rings the bell. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” the panicked announcer beckons. “Due to disqualification, your winner and still champion is TRISHA BELLE!” Some fans boo. Others are enjoying the catfight on the floor too much. The referee looks at Aloisia and offers a frown. “I'm sorry. I had to. I know she wasn't--”
Aloisia holds up a hand and smiles. She sets up the chair, slips from the ring, grabs popcorn and a soda from a fan, and returns to the ring. Sitting, the shrugs at the ref while munching on the snack.
Belle is running on adrenaline and rage, and Rue's appearance has just refueled her supply of the latter. The busty redhead flies at her, Trisha tucks her legs in, many assume she's making a bed of harsh, pointy knees for Rue to land on, but no. Instead, the Minnesotan waits for just the right moment and kicks her legs straight up, greeting her former friend by all but impaling her more than ample chest with her big black wrestling boots.
Rue lets out a great, “OOMPH!” as she’s quickly made breathless by her one time ally and falls to the arena floor, gasping. Trisha saddles up next to the Kentucky girl with a smile. “All this time and you still hold a grudge, but you do nothing but sit on the couch and stew. Meanwhile, I’ve been training all this time to take the Intercontinental Belt, which I fucking did. You’re a joke and I’m in the best shape of my life. What did you think would happen when you tried to fuck with me again, girl?” And with that, Belle drives four fingers into Rue’s mouth, her thumb hooking under MacKenna’s chin as she locks a mandible claw onto the Hellbilly with renewed vigor she’s found now that she gets to tear down a second girl tonight.
Using Rue Ann's jaw like a discus, Trisha hurls the smaller woman into the barricade. The guardrail goes back as far as the chains holding it in place will allow. Rue is fresh, and immediately pushes up but only to get a giant boot in the mouth. Rue Ann stumbles to the side. Trisha slaps on a headlock and runs, bulldogging her into the hard concrete floor. MacKenna stirs but Trisha decides she deserves a little showboating. She stands, once again lifting her arms to allow for the FAWNatics to praise her. Of course, they boo.
Except for enthusiastic clapping from the ring.
Trisha turns, confused, to see Aloisia clapping in between handfuls of popcorn. She tilts her head, unsure how to react.
“As long as one of you ends up dead, I am happy,” Aloisia says, her accent thick suddenly. A weird thought of how much Aloisia apparently normally restrains her accent roots into Trisha's brain, while at her feet a redhead legsweeps.
Trisha falls with her ass slapping the concrete hard, a harsh rush of air through her teeth shows she may have landed firmly on her tailbone. Rue closes in, scrambling to her feet to deliver a knee to Belle's skull, driving the big Amazon to her back. MacKenna then straddles Trisha, kneeling on the big girl’s arms to keep her down as the redneck girl rains down full fist punches, opening up Belle’s face cuts to reapply a fresh coat of Crimson to the Minnesota girl’s usually fair a pretty features.
Trisha can’t shake Rue from her perch at first and eats 3 or 4 hard punches, but luckily the Mauler has anything but a glass jaw and definitely possesses a cool head in bad situations. Through a bit of a haze, Belle brings her long, dangerous legs up behind the overly excited redhead. Rue feels Trisha’s body shift and tense, but too late does she realize what’s happening, when the brunette’s gams clamp down at the calves around MacKenna’s skull and whips down, trying to drive the top of the Hellbilly’s dome into the concrete.
When Rue Ann hits the floor, she thinks she heads bells. And she actually does – the timekeeper is ringing warning bells to get the attention of FAWN's notoriously late security guards. Trisha casually steps on Rue's throat, leaning all of her weight in, while looking up at Aloisia and expecting an attack. Instead, the professor sips casually on the soda she freed from a fan and smiles. It makes Trisha a tad uncomfortable, really.
Belle reaches down and hauls Rue Ann up by her flaming hair. She slings the petite hellion into the steel steps. Then, striding over, she heaves Rue Ann up, tucks her under her arm, and lifts her for a small package piledriver onto the steel steps.
SMALL PACKAGE PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZS_gTvrw8o
CLANG! Belle drives MacKenna into the steel structure with the small package driver, Rue’s head and back hit the steps hard, draping the redhead over them, her large chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. MacKenna had hoped this attack would have turned out differently, of course. That’s the thought going through the redhead’s mind when Trisha throws a hard punch between the Hellbilly’s breasts, right above the tied off shirt she’s sporting. If Trisha had had more energy behind that punch it may have put Rue away right then and there, but as she is, Belle fell short of a successful heart punch and instead forced a gasp from the redheaded redneck.
Its all the smaller girl can do when she swings her arms up to slap open palms hard against both of Trisha’s ears, boxing her ears. Trisha tries to shake it off, but in her current state, she slumps slightly as she shakes the cobwebs from her head, leaving an unwanted opening for the fresher girl
“Y'kow, Boo, I don't think these steps are regulation,” the familiar, sing-song voice of Rue Ann chimes. She synchs on a reverse headlock. “Take a look, would ya?” Rue Ann lifts her legs. Again, were Trisha fresh, this would be laughable. But exhaustion is taking her and the Amazon is DDTed into the steel steps. She slips to the side, clutching her forehead. In the ring, Trisha can hear more clapping.
The bell rings again. Rue Ann whips to glare at the source of the ringing bell, a pudgy man about ten feet away. She storms over towards him and snatches the hammer. “That's annoying!” she barks. She lifts the bell and snorts. “It's also not how you ring a bell.” The ginger skips towards the writing mass of Minnesotan and nudges Trisha onto her back. “This is,” Rue calls back as she falls onto Trisha and begins wailing on her with the small hammer. It's little and wooden, but it still hurts like hell as Rue brings it down all over in random locations from Trisha's belly to her face, going for the ribs more than once.
The FAWNatics don't really know who to root for here. Both women are so loathed and this brutality seems a bit much. But there no pretending the hate is real.
Rue slips into the ring and climbs to the top of the ringpost looming above Trisha. She flings the bell down onto Trisha, bounding it off the side of her face. “Ding, dong, bitch!” Rue bellows as she heaves herself from her roost, both feet aimed at Trisha's sternum.
The bell clangs on impact, but Trisha moves her head just enough for the metal bell to slam into the concrete and not her skull. Her ears are ringing, but she’s much more clear headed than Rue thinks she is. Then MacKenna lands both feet on Belle’s chest. The Mauler’s eyes wide, she’s definitely awake now, even with the shooting pains running through her ribs and sternum.
The Hellbilly grabs a fistful of the Minnesotan’s brown locks and drags her up to her knees. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Thinking about how much I wanted this, and how much you deserved it. And how much of a favor I’m doing the FAWN locker room by putting you on the injured list.” Belle is still well awake, hearing all of this and seeing Rue clench a fist, readying it to do some further damage to the Minnesota Mauler. So, just as the redhead cocks that clenched fist back for a hard downward punch, Trisha swings a swift uppercut between the Kentucky girl’s legs, slamming into the crotch of Rue’s Daisy Dukes.
MacKenna’s mouth is in a perfect O shape as she groans in pain and sinks to her knees falling to Trisha’s level. The Amazon smiles as she hugs Rue close. “You always did have a problem knowing when to shut up and finish the job.” Belle then grabs two handfuls of fire red hair and forces the Hellbilly’s face into the cleavage of her outfit, locking in a breast smother to put Rue out with her own favorite technique. “And another thing. I’ve always wanted to tell you this. You aren’t as good as you think you are. You never were. Your smothers, for example. Sure, you’ve got the equipment for a good tit smother, no doubt about that. But your form is all wrong. Let me show you how its done.” Trisha hugs her former ally deep into her chest, making certain the now slightly panicked smaller but bustier girl has her nose and mouth sealed off from any fresh air, adding a healthy squeeze to the redhead’s skull to add more pain to the maneuver.
Rue Ann bucks wildly and with a surprising amount of force for someone her size, but Trisha manages to keep her former ally pat, shooting a big grin to the jeering fans. She looks back in the ring instinctively to make sure Aloisia isn't about to attack – and partly hoping to taunt her as well – but the Polynesian beauty is enjoying popcorn, beer, and a hotdog, still sitting in her chair.
Aloisia raises the beer. “Would one of you kill each other already? I'm bored!”
Something about Aloisia not being super-serious is oddly off-putting. More off-putting, however, is the hand that slips past the leghole of Trisha's burgundy one piece and sinks talons into her womanhood, ripping away fast. Trisha shrieks and Rue Ann uses the it as a chance to pull away. Belle isn't keen on letting her new target escape, though, and grabs a fistful of red tresses. Trisha pivots, spinning in a circle and slinging Rue Ann into the corner where guardrails meet. The back of MacKenna's head bounces off the metal rail. Before she can gather herself, Trisha slams a boot across Rue's jaw with a superkick. MacKenna spills to the floor.
“HEY!” yells a familiar voice from the ring.
Trisha looks up at Aloisia, who's holding up the hotdog.
“Why do American sausages takes so bad?”
“That's… that's a hotdog, not a sausage,” Trisha grunts.
Aloisia blinks. “That name is stupid and I refuse to recognize it. Also, you should really pay more attention to her,” the would-be challenger says, gesturing with the meat treat.
Trisha looks to the floor where Rue Ann was… but sees no one. She looks around, looking to the fans for help, but they all just smirk back
Belle angrily hops over the barrier, pushing past the front row FAWNatics, figuring she knows where the redhead ran. And her hunch is right, Rue Ann is fleeing through the crowd, cutting her losses after taking a few hard hits from the already weary Minnesota Mauler. Trisha takes the initiative and charges the fleeing Hellbilly, throwing a double axehandle between MacKenna's shoulder blades, bringing the redhead to a quick stop. "Don't start something if you aren't going to see it through, girl." Belle sneers as she grabs her former partner, one hand with a fistful of scarlet hair, the other by the other holding the belt loops of her daisy dukes as she throws the smaller girl back into the steel barricade. The Hellbilly takes the impact with her shoulder, but crumbles to the floor in a heap as Trisha takes control of her former ally. The bigger girl then grabs the Kentucky girl by the throat and drags her to her feet for some more punishment, her free hand grabbing Rue's thigh as she lifts the girl up for a gorilla press to show off her strength and domination of the smaller woman.
Trisha walks back to the guardrail and gorilla throws Rue Ann, slamming the Kentucky girl into the steel steps to the ring. Returning to ringside, Belle stomps down on the back of MacKenna's head, keeping her boot there while striking a victory pose, complete with flexing. From the ring, Trisha hears Aloisia clearing her throat. The Polynesian-by-way-of-Germany woman points the rest of her hotdog at Trisha. “You need to adjust,” Berge says.
Trisha feels annoyance welling up. “You want some more? I've got plenty left.”
“I can see your plenty,” Aloisia replies. “Everyone can.” Trisha cocks her head while the academic continues. Aloisia's German accent suddenly gets thicker and she leans forward. “Everyone can see your muschi.”
“My… muschi?”
Aloisia looks momentarily embarrassed as she gestures towards her own crotch. “Die Scheide.”
Trisha looks down and sees the crotch of her her one piece, still pulled to the side and showing off her goods. Now all the camera flashes from phones in the audience make more sense. “You could have told me sooner,” Trisha grunts.
“Leck mich am Arsch!” Aloisia barks back. She points down towards Rue Ann. “Setz deinen Arsch in Bewegung!”
Trisha glares up at Aloisia. “I don't speak Germ--” The rest of the sentence is cut off as Belle feels the leg holding her up fold at the knee as Rue Ann slams her fist in the back of it. Trisha falls back, hitting the concrete with her back, and the foot pinning Rue down releases its captive. The hellion pops up, rubbing her jaw where it collided with the steps, and sends a bare foot across Trisha's mouth. Another kick follows. Rue Ann stomps the bare foot down over Trisha's mouth and nose while grabbing onto the barricade. The Minnesotan flails a bit before digging her nails into Rue's calf and shoving her off.
MacKenna stumbles back a few feet. She looks over at a fan holding an expensive, heavy camera on a neck strap. “You're about to be part of the show,” she snips as she yanks it from her neck. As Trisha pushes herself up from all fours, Rue Ann steps forward and swings the camera down at her back.
"UGH!" The camera slams into Belle's back and the Minnesotan is forced to the floor again. Rue casually tosses the broken camera back to the owner. "Think of it as a souvenir." she snarks to the slightly miffed crowd member. The Hellbilly grabs a fistful of Belle's hair and drags the bigger girl up to her knees, but the furious Trisha swings her open hands to Rue's ears, boxing the redhead's ears and then rising to her feet and lifting Rue into a bearhug, squeezing her former friend before charging to the ring apron, prepping to ram MacKenna's spine into the corner of the apron for some nasty impact.
The ring's edge bites into Rue's back and the smaller woman immediately crumbles. Trisha drives her hand into Rue's hair hand hoists her by her locks and pimpslaps her across the face before dumping her like trash. She sneers down at the heap that is the hillbilly. “You wanna put me on the disabled list?” She pulls Rue Ann over her shoulders into a torture rack, pulling MacKenna back like a bow until her head nearly touches her heels. “I'm not sure that's for me. How about you try it first and tell me what you think?” Trisha strides over to the barricade and prepares to drop her, backfirst, over it.
With a swift drop, MacKenna folds backwards over the barricade, struggling weakly while teeter-tottering. Trisha stumbles back and takes in a deep breath. Second wind is slowly subsiding, but she needs to see this runt suffer. She needs to punish her. Belle strides back to the time keeper and yanks the hammer from him. Returning to Rue Ann, Trisha rips away the smaller woman's top to expose her breasts. “I want to thank you for providing me with such perfectly large targets.” Trisha raises the hammer.
Belle reaches over to grab the redhead's locks to keep the Kentucky girl steady on the barrier, then swings the hammer down onto MacKenna's exposed tits. The Southerner groans with each impact but Belle keeps it up, tenderizing Rue's tits for a while. Trisha finally throws the small hammer aside and unzips MacKenna's daisy dukes and fully strips her former partner to really dominate her. With Rue now nude, Belle hoists her up over a shoulder, parading the battered redhead's upturned curvy ass. The Minnesota Mauler finally slaps the shapely rump and slides MacKenna off her shoulder and into position, preparing to piledrive the now vulnerable Rue into to ringside floor. "You made a big mistake coming here tonight, honey." And the Minneapolis girl falls to her knees.
Behind her, Aloisia speaks up, “A simple stripping? That will teach her nothing.” Trisha turns her weary head to the ring where Aloisia slowly rises. “She parades about nude all the time. She has no shame. You might as well scold a pig for rolling in its own filth.” Trisha wants to reply but she's too exhausted. Also, she hates to admit it, but Berge is right.
“She will only understand pain,” the PhD continues. “She is never dominated in FAWN. Only you have done so. This is your chance to prove a point. Not just to her but to everyone in the back. You must break the spirit of the wild animal publicly, and decisively, so the other beasts know their place.” The is an icy cruelty in Aloisia's voice Trisha has never heard before, and she finds herself almost admiring it.
Berge rises and closes the folding chair. “Heads up,” Aloisia chirps as she tosses the chair from the ring. Trisha stumbles to her feet and manages to catch it. “There are many things to do with a folding chair,” Aloisia assures. “Show the rabble how creative you can be.”
Trisha turns and stares down to the prone, unconscious form of Rue Ann and smiles like a cat happening upon a sleeping baby bird. It's almost too easy, too perfect. But when opportunities arise. The fans, horrified at Aloisia's sudden turn, boo both women while Belle raises the chair in front of her and readies another attack.
The attack comes, but not from Trisha. In the ring, Aloisia bounds off the cables behind herself, runs forward, and soars through the ropes in a missile dropkick. Berge's feet slam into the back of Belle's head, slamming the Minnesotan's face into the seat of the metal chair. The exhausted champ drops to her knees, releasing the chair before slumping forward. The FAWNatics immediately snap back behind Aloisia, now rested and ready for payback. Berge kicks her leg up perfectly vertical, grabbing it by her own calf. “Guten tag, bitch,” Aloisia growls as she releases her gam, slamming the back of her foot into Trisha's crown. Belle flattens.
Aloisia pulls Trisha up by her hair and backhands her, spiraling the tired fighter around. The Minnesotan Mauler catches herself with the ring skirt. Aloisia turns the woman to face her and slams a brutal gut punch. Belle folds forwards towards Berge, who smiles. “This is your world now, you know,” Aloisia purrs as she pounds Belle in the belly again. “You will be hounded by every halfwit and would-be who will be clawing at you for your gold. You have no allies.” CRACK! A punch across Trisha's jaw pushes her to the side but Aloisia keeps chatting. “And likely never will. It's been seen how you backstab. No one will watch your rear and every woman you've cheated against, you've attacked, you've made miserable will be gunning for you.”
“I'm still the champ,” Trisha slurs.
Aloisia laughs. “No, you're a product. You have no choice in your opponents. You have no say in your future. FAWN dangled a leash and you put it on yourself.” Another balled fist, this time a heart punch, winds Belle. She feels her body slowing down, becoming sluggish. Rue Ann used up all of her reserves. But Aloisia? Aloisia's fresh.
Trisha has never been on this end of a post-match beat down. Truthfully, she never imagined she ever could be. It's… not scary, but confusing. Frustrating. Dizzying. But maybe the last bit is just the pain taking over.
Aloisia shoves the spent fighter under the bottom rope into the ring. She follows the woman and drags Trisha to a center of the squared circle. “You know, our match was supposed to have a big finish between us,” Aloisia says sternly. “It's not too late.” Berge rolls Trisha onto her stomach and, standing at the woman's feet, hoists her up for her finisher, the Pen-Ure.
PEN-URE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KydDVYc1uig
Aloisia immediately releases Trisha, letting her slide into a puddle. The arena is spinning for the Midwest amazon. She looks up and sees the Pacific beauty sliding the shoulder straps of her ribbon-like one piece down, spilling forth her cartoonishly large breasts.
“You were right,” Berge commands as she pulls Belle up to her wobbly feet. “Rue's technique is embarrassing. Her smother gets by on quantity alone, not quality. But yours aren't much better. Let me show you.”
Trisha opens her mouth to protest but Aloisia shoves the champs face deep into her tits. Pulling Trisha's arms up straight, Aloisia crosses them and folds them back, holding each wrist just above its oppose shoulder blade while also using her own arms to hug Trisha's face deep into the smother. Belle struggles but more out of stubbornness than any realistic expectation of freeing herself. The fans, of course, love it, and cheer wildly. Their chanting of “STRIP THE CHAMP! STRIP THE CHAMP!” follows her into the oily, sweaty darkness.
Within a couple of minutes, Trisha is limp and hanging in Aloisia's arms.
“Okay, you've proven your point,” the referee whimpers. “Let her go.”
“No, I haven't,” Aloisia said coldly. “I think everyone would agree this is a long overdue dose of Trisha's own medicine, but she needs one more application.” Berge leans Trisha's limp form on the ropes and shreds the burgundy one piece from from her body, leaving mountain girl naked. Aloisia turns Trisha to face the fans, who cheer triumphantly. Aloisia slides the upper half of Trisha's body between the middle and top rope, draping her arms backwards and over the cable. She then ties Trisha's wrists together with the remains of her one piece.
“Sweet dreams, princess,” Aloisia says, pecking Trisha on the cheek. The camera phone flashes are blinding. Even Gladiatrix gets good shots of it. With that, Aloisia slides from the ring, making sure to stomp on Rue Ann's body as she goes. Up the aisle she stomps, passing medics who are rushing to check on the two laid out women. Backstage, Kelli Love and Selia Brach wait for her.
KELLI LOVE:
SELIA BRACH:
“Hey, great match,” Selia offers sweetly. “Sucks that you got Dqed.”
Aloisia shrugs. “Still feels like a win to me.”
“Yeah, about that,” Kelli replies. Her tone fails to hide her concern. “You…. You didn't have to use your finisher on Trisha. She was done. You could have just smothered her out.”
“I could have,” Aloisia responds, “but I didn't. And she would have done no less to me. She's done no less to me, and many others.”
“But you're better than her,” Kelli replies.
Aloisia ponders that. For a minute, she does feel guilty. It wasn't something she would normally do. But… the chance was there.
“They fans loved it,” Aloisia assures Kelli.
Love saddles up next to Aloisia and slides an arm over her shoulders. “Yeah, so did you. That's what kinda worries me.”
Aloisia says nothing. She merely picks up her pace and strides to the locker room.
ALOISIA BERGE:
“NEXT GIRL” BY THE BLACK KEYS:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_PrT25o8Vs
As her music begins to play, the familiar curves of the professor slide through the curtain. Aloisia smiles at the FAWNatics, strutting down the aisle and slapping hands with attendees. She has never been comfortable with this part, the fan interaction. But she is considerably better at it than she was long ago. It's still awkward to feel all eyes on her, and she's not stupid – she knows a good chunk of FAWNatics are more fans of her body than herself. Still, it's good to be fighting.
Her usual red two-piece and matching boots are getting the night off. Instead, she is wearing a black one-piece that still manages, somehow, to be more revealing. A slim black V stretches from her crotch to her shoulders, connected behind her neck with a nearly invisible but strong strand. Two more black strips wrap around her sides. She wears matching mid-calf black wrestling boots. Aloisia had wanted to try something new out. The fact this attire seems to support her generous chest proportions, which seem to be growing since she joined FAWN, is a bonus to her. The fact almost all of the goods are on display and the back comes up like a thong is a bonus to fans.
She stops to sign occasional autographs. Some are still screenshots of her being stripped post-loss, but there's more now that are of just her or her post-win. The images of her losing to Trisha bother her less now. Truthfully, she's been way more focused on the humiliating loss she suffered at the hands – and toys – of Cindy Bash. Not that she didn't hate Trisha still. But… somehow, the Bash loss was more personal and managed to sink deeper into her brain, burning like a coal set to ignite its surroundings.
Aloisia reaches the ring and hefts herself up onto the skirt, sliding through the cables while pondering the match. Truthfully, this match didn't make sense. There are people who have records more deserving of a title shot against Trisha than Aloisia. She hadn't challenged Trisha, either. She doubted Trisha had arranged the match. Most likely, she tells herself, someone in booking is hoping for another giant upset ending with stripping and humiliation – starring her. The fact there is, to say the least, unaddressed rage from Aloisia towards the Minnesota Amazon also makes it a smart marketing angle, but Aloisia has been in FAWN long enough to get a general idea of what booking looks for: an epic fight followed by epic humiliation. Aloisia climbs the turnbuckles and waves to the fans, thinking to herself, Fine. That's what they'll get, but I won't be playing the victim today.
Aloisia is interrupted, almost mid-thought as the sound system booms to life again. The Heavy's "Oh, No Not You Again" ramping up to announce the champion.
“OH NO NOT YOU AGAIN” BY THE HEAVY:
youtu.be/dC4rumutsMI
TRISHA BELLE:
Trisha would usually relish and soak up the jeers, but her attitude has shifted with the IC title in her possession. The Minnesota Mauler bursts through the curtain sprinting down the ramp to the ring, the jeers flowing over her like wind through her hair. She gracefully slides head first beneath the ropes, popping up to her feet to show off that Berge wasn't the only girl who changed her outfit for the match. When she gets to her feet the FAWNatics get there first look at Belle in a new burgundy one-piece with a neckline that also plunges just past the navel. The outfit is accessorized with a thin black belt with an ornate golden buckle in the middle and the Minnesota girl is wearing her usual big black wrestling boots, this time with gold colored laces to better match the belt. After bouncing on her feet for a moment, Trisha looks to her shoulder and even feigns surprise at the IC belt draped over her arm. "Oh, right. I almost forgot about this old thing." She kisses the face of the belt and throws it up, with a cheer, showing it off to the FAWNatics in the arena, getting a large mixed pop of cheers and boos. Finally, the crowd settles down enough for the announcer to finish his job, "And, from Minneapolis, Minnesota, standing 5 feet 10 inches and weighing in at 150 pounds, your Intercontinental Champion, she's the Minnesota Mauler... TRISHAAAAA BEEEELLE!
Another chorus of boos begins, Trisha smiles, turning her smirk toward Aloisia as she remarks, "So, who do I owe for the pleasure of beating your ass for the, what, third, fourth time?" she chuckles as she reminisces about her history of bullying and torturing the German girl.
Aloisia arches an eyebrow. “You don't have your little shadow anymore. Shouldn't you be more worried about who's going to bail you out of all the trouble that gold-plated albatross is going to bring you?”
Trisha snorts as she hands the belt to a ring attendant. Both women allow themselves to be patted down by the referee, who is obviously expecting this match to be a nightmare for himself. Once sure no one is secretly armed, he motions for the bell.
The two women circle each other and lock up at the shoulders. Both fighters shove but neither gives. Through a toothy smile, Trisha coos, “I don't need the hillbilly dead weight to take your sorry ass down. I'm surprised you'd step into the ring with my again, or is it just that thrilling to have a real woman take control of you?”
Aloisia is MORE than aware Trisha was trying to get into her head. Thankfully, Berge doubted Aloisia had any interest on anything not directly involving herself so she probably wouldn't hear anything about her lost Christmas loss. But Belle seemed more focused on gloating, giving Berge a chance to roll back and flip her opponent. Trisha slams to the canvas and hops up immediately, spinning around just in time to catch a foot to the sternum. Trisha backs into the ropes and Aloisia charges her, slamming a chop across the chest. Trisha brings a heavy left across Aloisia's temple before shoving her back a few feet.
The fighters circle each other a bit more. Trisha lunges for Aloisia but the German kicks at her side. Unfortunately for Berge, her nemesis catches the leg and smiles. Aloisia smiles back, jumping and launching her free leg for Trisha's head.
Trisha's smile doesn't fade. Expecting the German girl to throw herself fully into this rematch of sorts, with the added weight of a golden belt on the line, she saw the spin kick coming. Belle just ducks her head enough for the kick to swing over her, Berge twirling gracefully in the air before falling to the mat, Trisha never letting go of the mocha girl's boot. The Minnesota Mauler just re-positions herself, almost sitting on Aloisia's back as she locks in an ankle lock, but adds torque and pull to the limb, bending it back to add the pressure of a single leg Boston Crab in an attempt to mangle her opponent's appendage early in the match.
Berge howls and groans, but when the ref approaches to check for a tap, she waves him away, gritting her teeth in frustration. Trisha cackles, "You sure you want to play it tough? Because I'm all too willing to tear your leg off at the socket!" she gloats, sticking her tongue out in a sadistic, almost child like display of glee. But still Berge refuses. In fact, the German born girl digs her nails into the mat and starts clawing her way to the ropes, dragging and stretching her already pain riddled leg as her fingertips stretch out and finally find the bottom rope, forcing Trisha to break the hold.
"Fine!" Trisha blurts, throwing Aloisia's leg to the mat hard, banging the already well wrenched knee with a smack to the canvas. Belle just backs into her corner, looking over Berge now like a lion eying a wounded gazelle. All but licking her lips as she crouches slightly, hands on the middle ropes, and stomps the canvas with her big black boots.
Trisha paws at the canvas like a bull ready to charge while Aloisia pulls herself up. From Trisha's standpoint, Aloisia is sluggish because she's already worn down. But in actuality, Aloisia's just enjoying a slow pace to antagonize Trisha. Plus, from the German's view, the Mauler might was well be yelling, “I'm about to charge you!”
Sure enough, as soon as Aloisia's on her feet and turns around, she sees Trisha coming at her full speed with an arm out for a clothesline. Aloisia manages to bend backwards a la Matrix while driving out an elbow to greet her attacker. The elbow bites into Belle's ribs, cutting her charge short. Belle stumbles and turns, clutching the point of impact and snarling. As she turns to face Aloisia again an arm flies across her throat, laying her out.
Belle is barely on the canvas, though, before hopping up and staring daggers at a now smirking Aloisia. Trisha slams a forearm across Aloisia's chest, sending her meat shelf into a jiggle. Aloisia returns fire. The women glare at each other before whipping themselves into the ropes behind them and rushing each other, slamming their bodies together in a show of dominance. Neither woman goes down. They do it again off different cables. Same, neither woman gives.
Once more, the women go to cables and bounce themselves off. This time, however, Aloisia has decided for a different strategy, launching herself in a missile dropkick perfectly aimed where Trisha's head should be.
“Should be” are the operative words. Aloisia sails and looks down only to see Trisha skidding across the mat in an attempted baseball slide take down. It's only a brief second but feels like forever as both women, going VERY fast, lock eyes and share a moment not of mutual hate but mutual, “We may have made mistakes.”
Trisha's slide sends her under the opposite ropes as she slips out of the ring by mistake, standing slightly awkwardly as she looks back to her opponent. Aloisia, at the same moment falls to the mat, her hip hitting the canvas hard, but Berge quickly scrambles to her feet again, just as Belle rolls back into the ring. The two scramble to their feet almost simultaneously and rush toward each other again. This time however, both Trisha and Aloisia think exactly alike, both amazons going for a clothesline and the two wrestlers' arms make full contact, sending Belle and Berge falling back to the canvas with a thunderous crash.
The FAWNatics are on their feet at this display, although more than a few are getting a good laugh as well. The referee starts his count. “One… Two….”
Instantly the women push themselves to their feet. The fighters lock up but instantly Aloisia flips Trisha with an arm drag. To the German's consternation, Belle doesn't go down but manages to catch herself with her feet. It's now the Mauler's turn, still locked to Berge, to flip the professor with an arm drag. Aloisia hits the mat in a sitting position. Belle rams a kick into the base of Berge's spine, then sends another into her face to lay her out. For good measure, the champ stomps on the knee she'd been working on three times before kicking it full force.
“This is a wrestling match,” the referee reminds. “How about some wrestling?”
“Champs do what they want,” Trisha hisses as she reaches down for Aloisia's legs. The Pretty Polynesian greets her by kicking her legs up and scissoring them around Trisha's neck, squeezing and then flipping the Minnesota amazon to the canvas. Aloisia positions herself atop Trisha's shoulders and manages to drive a few punches between the eyes to daze. While the referee scolds, Aloisia rises, steps back and leaps for a standing moonsault.
STANDING MOONSAULT:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCH5kGRT0-o
Trisha's eyes roll in her head for a moment after the sudden surge from Berge, but she shakes the daze just in time to see Aloisia with her back turned and launching into a perfect standing moonsault. Or it would have been perfect if Belle hadn't countered by tucking in her legs, greeting Aloisia's ample chest as it lands with pointed knees. Berge groans on impact, "UUUGHHH!" completely taken by surprise with the counter. The Minnesota Mauler doesn't let up, either. Instead, Trisha grabs a fistful of Aloisia's thick hair. Before the ref can complain about the hair hold, she throws a knuckle into the breathless Polynesian girl's temple, one, two, three swift knuckle strikes hit before Belle goes for the kill. She drags Berge by the hair into her lap where she locks her arms around Aloisia's neck with a sleeper while her legs snake around the busty beauty's waist, all happening in center ring, far from the sanctuary of any ropes. Trisha brushes her lips close to the German girl's ear, "Familiar territory for you, huh? No where to go but down and out. But you're use to it, I'd think. Just take the nap and the loss, little girl." she taunts her opponent, trying to embarrass her or convince her enough to tap or accept her fate as a sleeping loser.
Aloisia doesn't reply, not even a snide comment. Instead, she's accessing the situation. Trisha's arms are locked on so there's no point even trying to break them. Same with her legs. On her knees with Belle acting as malicious Yoda on her back, Aloisia thrusts her head back a few times into Trisha's nose and mouth. It won't break the hold, but it'll distract a little while Aloisia shifts and adjusts. Belle's heavier but only by ten pounds. Berge realizes this is doable.
Steeling herself, Aloisia struggles up to her feet, holding Trisha onto her back. Trisha decides to make this more difficult by “accidentally” turning the sleeper into a choke, which the referee warns her about. When that fails, Trisha begins ripping Aloisia's head side to side, trying to hurt her neck muscles.
Despite this, Aloisia gets up to a stoop, with Belle frantically trying to pull her over either way. Once up, even if unsteady, Aloisia flops backwards, making sure to slam the back of her skull full-force into Trisha's mouth. The champ rattles underneath her but never releases. That's okay, though. Aloisia plants her feet onto the mat and pushes her waist up, rolling back on top of her attacker for a pin.
ONE!
T--
Belle releases and shoves Berge off of her, crawling from under the woman. Trisha rubs her mouth and licks her teeth to make sure she's not bleeding. No crimson. She sees Aloisia rolling to all fours and stomps the woman on the back. Berge takes it but keeps moving. A stomp to the back of the neck, however, almost flattens Aloisia out. Annoyed by the persistence of this woman she's beaten twice, Belle decides it time to make a point. While Aloisia gets up, Trisha bounds herself off the cables behind her and aims a Belle Ringer for Aloisia.
BELLE RINGER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2S1GD_NbIQ
But Aloisia's head isn't where Trisha hoped. Seeing her attacker on the move, Berge forces herself up and manager to barely sidestep the limb thrust towards her. Better year, Aloisia grabs the gam and holds it while raising an elbow, which she promptly drops towards Trisha's knee.
The Minnesota Mauler grimaces and hisses between gritted teeth. But responds by jumping up, her free leg swinging surprisingly swiftly up into Berge's skull. Belle's booted toe connects harshly with the Polynesian Beauty's temple, taking Aloisia totally off guard and her body goes limp for a moment, falling to the canvas in a heap. Trisha goes down after her, straddling the German's chest as she lifts Berge by her hair so the dazed girl's face is buried in Belle's belly. Trisha makes it seem she's going for a belly or crotch smother, selling it by grinding her opponent harshly. But, in reality, Belle's strategy is actually grinding her outfit's belt buckle into her pretty opponent's face to see what kind of damage that will do, all the while muffling any protests by keeping Aloisia's mouth covered by flesh and fabric.
When Dr. Berge finally shoves herself away from, her head hitting the mat, the referee immediately notes the three lines of faint red – two on Aloisia's forehead, one on the bridge of her nose. The lines quickly darken as trickles of blood form. Aloisia wipes the blood and looks at her hand. The official looks to Trisha and starts to scold her.
Cutting him off, in the least convincing apologetic tone ever, she holds up her hands. “I don't even know howOOOOOOOOOW!” Trisha's mouth and eyes round out at Aloisia kicks her feet up and plants one between Trisha's legs. The other slams onto the metal buck on Trisha's belt. Belle spills backwards, agonized by sharp pain from her womanhood and metal pressing into her gut. The champion manages not to fall onto her back, instead scrambling backwards to the ropes.
Aloisia stands, smiling as little red streams trickle down her face. “Well, this changes a lot,” she hisses. The professor's eyes look almost possessed. Trisha isn't a fan of it, frankly, and launches herself from the ropes and onto Aloisia. Grabbing the German by the sides of her face, Trisha uses her momentum to drive Berge backwards into the mat. The ring shakes and Belle goes for a pin.
ON--
Aloisia bucks Trisha off. Belle is, to say the least, annoyed. Still, if she wants more pain, Trisha's happy to help. Belle pulls Berge up and begins to sling her over her shoulders for a torture rack. As she settles the woman into place, Trisha sees a claw full of manicured fingernails closing in straight on her eyes.
And this visual warning leaves just enough time for the Mauler to WRENCH the rack as hard as she can, doing her damnedest to completely interrupt the Professor's momentum with pain. She pulls at Berge's neck and leg so hard, attempting to dislocate the already battered limb while also bending the poor girl's back into an unnatural inverted U shape, and finally placing immense pressure at Aloisia's chin. Belle even smoothly slides her forearm along her seemingly helpless opponent to place pressure on the already red throat of Berge, not letting her catch any breath at all if it's up to her.
The referee starts to check for submission but realizes what he's seeing. “That's a choke! Break the choke!”
“What's a 'choke?'” Trisha asks with a smirk.
“BREAK… THE… CHOKE!” The referee begins counting, but at three Trisha interrupts him.
“I don't lose the belt with a DQ, do I?” The champ's smirk grows into a gloating smile. But the fingers she narrowly avoided earlier jab as far into her ocular cavities as their current occupants will allow. Trisha roars with rage as she dumps Aloisia, who lands on her forehead.
Aloisia isn't on the mat long, as Trisha quickly finds her, even if after a bit of groping, and pulls her up by her long silky hair. Using the mane as a handle, she whips Aloisia into a corner. Berge's face slams into the top ring buckle, leaving a red smear on it. Berge's eyes focus on the turnbuckle covering, sliding under it briefly, before turning.
Immediately, Berge catches a body splash, flattening her into the corner. Trisha pries her body off Aloisia's, offering a slap across Berge's breasts, then throat and, for final insult, cracks an an open-palmed slap across Aloisia's cheek.
The FAWNatics erupt in rage, and Trisha takes a rare moment to turn to them and raise her arms triumphantly, before returning to Aloisia, wrapping her neck in a headlock, and rushing from the corner in a bulldog.
Trisha piles insults to Berge's numerous injuries, wiping her free hand on the crimson streaks on Aloisia's face, spreading the blood on the poor girl's mug, making a blood red mask for the PhD holder. Trisha then gets even more jeers from the fans as she likes the blood from her hand with gusto. Belle then bolts from the corner and leaps into a bulldog that slams Berge's gushing visage to the canvas, a significant red stamp left at the point of impact.
The Minnesota Mauler then rolls her mangled opponent to her back and hooks a leg for a pin. The ref slides in for the count.
“ONE…
TWO…
THR-NO!”
He stops as the battered Berge somehow finds the will to raise a shoulder.
Trisha scoffs. “Fine. You want more. I’ll be glad to oblige you, girly.” As she rolls the still very woozy Aloisia’s head back and forth from one cheek to another on the mat. Then Belle throws a swift punch to the German’s solar plexus. A swift rush of air escapes from the battered girl’s lips, sending her into fits of coughs and sputters.
And with that, the Minneapolis native decides to put Berge down slowly and harshly. She saddles up beside the bruised and bleeding girl, places one hand over Aloisia’s mouth and nose, then the other and presses a firm hand smother into place to end this match with some pathetic squirming.
Aloisia struggles but the struggle quickly slows. Her eyes begin to flutter. The referee picks up her wrist.
It drops.
He picks it up again.
It drops.
Trisha chuckles to herself. The first defense and it was a bloody, messy easy win over someone she loved beating around. She relaxed as she thought about the belt sliding back around her waist.
Relaxing was a mistake, though. Aloisia's eyes pop open in a fashion befitting a horror movie, almost making Trisha jump back. Before she can lean down with more pressure, Berge's balled up fish slams into Belle's ribs. The Minnesotan swears as she pulls away, clutching the point of impact. Aloisia rises, glaring through blood in a way that reminds Belle of a horror slasher. But Aloisia isn't a slasher. She's a woman she's put down before, and damned if she won't do it again.
Belle launches at Berge, grabbing her up in a bearhug that pins the woman's arms to her side. The Mauler lifts and squeezes, enjoying the grunts of her prey. The FAWNatics may hate Trisha, but they adore the visual of both women's racks slammed together and the jumbotron is sure to offer various angle shots. Trisha juts her knee out and slams Aloisia's crotch down on it. She raises her and does it again. Berge lets out an agonized moan just as Belle suplexes her, slinging her sloppily to the mat. Aloisia stares up blankly as Trisha rises and lifts a leg for a guillotine legdrop.
Belle’s leg lands flush across Berge’s throat, and the German bucks hard after the impact, her trachea slightly collapsing under Trisha’s leg. She coughs and sputters as the Minnesota Amazon hooks both the professor’s legs in a roll up that should ensure her first victory.
The ref slides in and almost lazily slaps the mat again, everyone expecting the outcome already.
ONE!
TW-NOOO!
“WHAT!?” Trisha screams in disbelief as Aloisia digs deep and kicks out. Belle’s jaw drops wide as she can’t believe her title defense hasn’t ended yet. But Berge rolls to her stomach and crawls to the ropes, reaching for the bottom strand to help her to her feet, every part of her body drooping lazily, showing her fatigue.
Belle stands, eyes still wide with surprise, then turning angry. The murderous Minnesotan throws herself down, aiming a pointed elbow drop to fall across her crawling opponent’s spine.
Aloisia attempts to pull away, instead catching the elbow in the upper right arm. She clutches the elbow and stumbles back to the corner she already decorated with her blood. She pants, seemingly exhausted, and stares into space while her hand returns under the turnbuckle padding to hold herself up.
Trisha stands, fuming. “Okay, fine. You chose where you wanna die. That's fine. That's good.” The champion paces angrily around the ring until she finds herself in the corner directly opposite. Suddenly, Trisha charges, leaping with another mighty splash at the slowed Aloisia.
Only Aloisia suddenly isn't slow.
It all happens so fast. Trisha, in the air, sees Aloisia look up at her and smile before yanking away from the corner. With her goes the top turnbuckles covering. Suddenly, Trisha knows what Aloisia was really doing while reaching under it. Even more suddenly, Belle lands with the bare turnbuckle slamming right into her throat. A boot to the back of the neck drives it in further and Trisha feels her throat getting scratched.
The doctor grabs Trisha's main and bangs her head into the bare turnbuckle over and over until she sees a bit of crimson spatter. It only takes three quick hits, it turns out, before slinging Trisha from the corner to the mat. The zebra steps up.
“Keep her out of the corners, Aloisia!”
“THAT'S DR. BERGE TO YOU!” the challenger snaps, thrusting a finger in his face. The official is caught completely off guard by the sudden shift in personality. “And why is it okay for her to cheat but not me?”
The referee stammers. “I never said--”
Berge leans down and rips the belt from Trisha's waist and shoves the buckle in his face. “That's my blood on this! You did NOTHING!”
“I… didn't kno--”
Swinging the belt around, Aloisia roars on. “You'd probably let her do this to me!” Aloisia rains slaps from the belt down on Trisha's face and cleavage.
The referee is horrified. “I would nev--”
“You'd even let her do this!” Aloisia swings the belt, slapping the flat of the buckles across Trisha's right cheek, then swings it again. The hook on the back of the buckle bites in deep on Trisha's left cheek, immediately cutting it open.
The referee comes out of it. “HEY! YOU CAN'--”
“It was fun while it lasted,” the professor says, tossing the belt from the ring. She drops behind Trisha's shoulders and wraps her legs around Belle's throat to squeeze.
Blood trickling down several places on her face, Belle gasps as much as she can through her squeezed neck, her face immediately going flush in the elevated scissors, adding to the red liquid already running down her forehead and cheeks. Trisha instinctively grasps at Berge's considerable thighs, prying at them with her hands, and even showing her remaining power as she almost is able to pry the scissors off of her head. However, with a little effort the professor snaps her legs shut again and wraps one foot into the crook of the opposite leg, locking in a figure-four headlock to drain the champ.
Trisha grabs and scratches at Aloisia's thighs frantically, but to no avail. Berge just rocks and jerks back and forth, adding torque to the pressure at Trisha's neck and soon, the unthinkable happens. Trisha begins to slow. After a long and seemly unending stretch with the momentum of the match on her side, Trisha is now in trouble. Her head swims, her lips sputter weakly as she loses more air from her lungs and is unable to replace it with a fresh breath. She even starts to reach out in front of her, seeming to plead with either the FAWNatics in the crowd or phantoms only she can see for their help. Finally, she reaches up high, looking into the bright lights of the arena for a second, then her arms fall limp. Unfortunately for the now dominant Berge, Belle's left arm falls in a wide arc and lands lightly on the bottom rope, barely held up by Trisha's fingertips. The ref closes in and makes the call. "She's on the ropes, Berge. Break the hold.”
Aloisia hesitates, then looks at the referee. She looks down at Trisha. “Don't you have to count?”
It is not behavior expected from Aloisia. The FAWNatics approve but the referee is taken aback. Still, he begins a count and gets to four before Aloisia releases. Trisha breathes in, gulping as much air as she can while Berge rises.
“Don't make me DQ you,” the zebra warns the German. She glares at him, then grabs Trisha's legs and yanks her from the ropes as hard as she can. The referee throws his hands up, unsure what to even do at this point.
Aloisia slides her hands into Belles top and pulls the Minnesotan up by her breasts with well-placed claw holds. Trisha fires a volley of fists into Aloisia's belly. The referee warns of closed fists while Aloisia slams her hand down into the back of Trisha's neck, stunning her. “Timber,” Aloisia growls while wiping blood from her eyes. With that, she loops a leg over one of Trisha's arms, palms the back of her head and plants her into the mat with a Descrator.
DESECRATOR:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovN4bfQiQoE
Trisha flops to her back. Aloisia slides up her body like a snake, resting her endowments about Trisha's mouth and nose. Lacing her legs into Belle's and holding her wrists down, Aloisia settles in for a breast smother/grapevine combo.
Trisha is the helpless one now, as Aloisia settles in position, fully embracing a darker side as she slides her cleavage into position for a satisfying smother. Belle rolls as much as she can in the grapevine, her nose and mouth looking for a position where she can sneak a breath, but even after a few stolen short gasps Berge grinds down hard, Trisha's nose mashed against the German's sternum and flesh, unable to avoid the smothering.
Again, the Minnesotan struggles, but her squirming slowly fades to slight shifting, her fingers scratching the mat in frustration until she can only let out a final sigh, her body shuddering not with pleasure, but from exhaustion and lack of oxygen. Aloisia triumphantly looks out to the crowd, her smile more evil than it has ever been. But as mean as she's been, she still wants to win her first title the old fashion way. So, she releases Trisha's wrists, unwraps her legs from the Mauler's and hooks one of Belle's thighs for the pin, her free hand rubbing the champs bloodied and sweaty features as she waits for the count.
ONE…
TWO…
THR-NOOO!
This time its Berge’s time to drop her jaw to the mat in disbelief.
“COME ON!” she yells as Trisha’s weighty leg snaps to the mat, a shoulder rolling weakly up so she can keep her belt.
Aloisia's face flushes with rage, but mostly at herself for making the same mistake Trisha made earlier. She looks down at Belle's blooding visage and wipes some of the American's blood from her own cleavage. The professor stands, grabbing Trisha by the ankles, and pulling her center ring. She slams her boot down on Belle's womanhood, grinding the heel in and drinking in the agony on her foe's face. Stepping over on of Trisha's legs and folding the other, Berge flips Belle into a sharpshoooter.
SHARPSHOOTER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ku2HtEMkaG4
Trisha shakes to life, punching the canvas but refusing the referee's asking on submission. She tries to power out, but Aloisia's locked on like a tick getting fat. Desperate, Belle reaches back and grabs hold of Aloisia's long hair. She rips hard, snapping Berge's neck back, and then pulling her backwards. Aloisia, in pain and shock, releases the hold and falls to the canvas.
Belle flies into a rage, ripping her nails into Aloisia's eyes and blinding her. The German rolls to her side and Trisha grabs her under the chin. Pulling Berge up to a seated position, the Mauler puts both feet into her back grabs onto Aloisia's wrists, and pulls back for a surfboard while Aloisia struggles to break free.
Belle LEANS back, pulling the knelt professor's arms so harshly her shoulder blades all but close around Trisha's boot like a bear trap. There is so much pressure put on Aloisia's outfit, its a wonder the one piece doesn't tear at one of its many flimsy straps and seams. Trisha gives a final tug to the PhD recipient's arms before she starts getting up, still holding Aloisia's wrists firmly as she rises, leaving the bruised beauty knelt before her. The Minnesota Mauler finally screams at her opponent, "I gave you a chance to take a nap earlier. Remember that, Berge? Well you should have just taken the nap and left it at that." And with that, Trisha places her boot at the back of the Pretty Polynesian's neck and curb stomps her to the canvas without thinking twice.
Aloisia's forehead bounces off plywood and the woman goes still. Trisha is enraged that Aloisia's come this far and that vitriol amps when she sees the woman squirm sluggishly. “For someone who's smart, you're too dumb to know when to quit!” Trisha booms. The champ drops to her knees on Aloisia's back and cranks her head back. “Just so we're clear,” Belle hisses, “everything I've done to you before? It will look like foreplay compared to this.”
Aloisia looks back at the woman, then spits a stream of red into Trisha's face. The blood immediately vanishes into Trisha's own. Belle palms the back of Berge's head and slams it down. Standing, Belle stretches, popping her back and then her neck while trying to catch her breath a little. She eyes the uncovered turnbuckle. Yeah. That'll do.
She yanks Aloisia up by the arm, nearly removing the limb from its socket, and slings the professor into the turnbuckle. Aloisia's mouth and nose hit the bare connector. Trisha rushes her, leaping and splashing into Aloisia. The Polynesian beauty's face is crushed, reopening clotting wounds. But this is not enough for Trisha. Not even close. The refusal to just lose is an insult Trisha Belle cannot abide. She pulls Aloisia from the corner, shoves Aloisia's bloody head between her thighs, and prepares her for her finisher, the Belle Toll.
THE BELLE TOLL:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRupuW-tNMw
But before Trisha can reintroduce her enemy to the mat, the arena lights go out. Trisha blinks, unsure what happened at first, almost wondering if she'd passed out from blood loss and this was a dream. Then, music began piping into the arena and Trisha could smell heavy chemical smoke from a smoke machine.
THEME FROM MASK OF THE PHANTASM:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-m0ehT3_mo
The lights go up slightly – only slightly. Trisha feels the mat shake as something, or someone, drops onto it. In the midst of the smoke is the outline of a woman with wavy hair, a catsuit, and a flowing cape. Belle's eyes widen. She knows that form. It's a certain do-gooder who a lot of people in FAWN would love to see unmasked and ended.
Trisha slings Aloisia to the side. The professor lands on her hip and looks up at the form. Listening to the music, she mutters, “But that's not your them--”
Belle rushes the outline of the woman and grabs onto her with ease. The heroine doesn't fight. In fact, she goes limp in Trisha's arm. Belle bearhugs her so tight, she's almost like a doll in her arms. The lights go up.
Trisha Belle finds herself bearhugging a life-sized ragdoll in a cap, catsuit, and mask. Pinned to her chest is a note that says, “Boy, is YOUR face CRIMSON!”
Trisha blinks. What the--
But Trisha doesn't see while all of this goes down is a FAWNatic in the front row, in trench coat and pulled down cap, jumping the guardrail. Slinging the hat and coat off, a familiar face appears.
RUE ANN MACKENNA:
Rue Ann grabs the folding chair she'd been sitting in the entire show and barrels into the ring. Just as Trisha's realizing this is a set up, she turns in time for the Hellbilly to bring the edge of the chair's back across her temple. Belle, exhausted, stumbles while Rue slings the chair behind her. She grabs Trisha and hurls her from the ring, jumps onto the top rope like a gargoyle, and jumps towards her fallen former friend.
The referee motions the time keeper, who rings the bell. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” the panicked announcer beckons. “Due to disqualification, your winner and still champion is TRISHA BELLE!” Some fans boo. Others are enjoying the catfight on the floor too much. The referee looks at Aloisia and offers a frown. “I'm sorry. I had to. I know she wasn't--”
Aloisia holds up a hand and smiles. She sets up the chair, slips from the ring, grabs popcorn and a soda from a fan, and returns to the ring. Sitting, the shrugs at the ref while munching on the snack.
Belle is running on adrenaline and rage, and Rue's appearance has just refueled her supply of the latter. The busty redhead flies at her, Trisha tucks her legs in, many assume she's making a bed of harsh, pointy knees for Rue to land on, but no. Instead, the Minnesotan waits for just the right moment and kicks her legs straight up, greeting her former friend by all but impaling her more than ample chest with her big black wrestling boots.
Rue lets out a great, “OOMPH!” as she’s quickly made breathless by her one time ally and falls to the arena floor, gasping. Trisha saddles up next to the Kentucky girl with a smile. “All this time and you still hold a grudge, but you do nothing but sit on the couch and stew. Meanwhile, I’ve been training all this time to take the Intercontinental Belt, which I fucking did. You’re a joke and I’m in the best shape of my life. What did you think would happen when you tried to fuck with me again, girl?” And with that, Belle drives four fingers into Rue’s mouth, her thumb hooking under MacKenna’s chin as she locks a mandible claw onto the Hellbilly with renewed vigor she’s found now that she gets to tear down a second girl tonight.
Using Rue Ann's jaw like a discus, Trisha hurls the smaller woman into the barricade. The guardrail goes back as far as the chains holding it in place will allow. Rue is fresh, and immediately pushes up but only to get a giant boot in the mouth. Rue Ann stumbles to the side. Trisha slaps on a headlock and runs, bulldogging her into the hard concrete floor. MacKenna stirs but Trisha decides she deserves a little showboating. She stands, once again lifting her arms to allow for the FAWNatics to praise her. Of course, they boo.
Except for enthusiastic clapping from the ring.
Trisha turns, confused, to see Aloisia clapping in between handfuls of popcorn. She tilts her head, unsure how to react.
“As long as one of you ends up dead, I am happy,” Aloisia says, her accent thick suddenly. A weird thought of how much Aloisia apparently normally restrains her accent roots into Trisha's brain, while at her feet a redhead legsweeps.
Trisha falls with her ass slapping the concrete hard, a harsh rush of air through her teeth shows she may have landed firmly on her tailbone. Rue closes in, scrambling to her feet to deliver a knee to Belle's skull, driving the big Amazon to her back. MacKenna then straddles Trisha, kneeling on the big girl’s arms to keep her down as the redneck girl rains down full fist punches, opening up Belle’s face cuts to reapply a fresh coat of Crimson to the Minnesota girl’s usually fair a pretty features.
Trisha can’t shake Rue from her perch at first and eats 3 or 4 hard punches, but luckily the Mauler has anything but a glass jaw and definitely possesses a cool head in bad situations. Through a bit of a haze, Belle brings her long, dangerous legs up behind the overly excited redhead. Rue feels Trisha’s body shift and tense, but too late does she realize what’s happening, when the brunette’s gams clamp down at the calves around MacKenna’s skull and whips down, trying to drive the top of the Hellbilly’s dome into the concrete.
When Rue Ann hits the floor, she thinks she heads bells. And she actually does – the timekeeper is ringing warning bells to get the attention of FAWN's notoriously late security guards. Trisha casually steps on Rue's throat, leaning all of her weight in, while looking up at Aloisia and expecting an attack. Instead, the professor sips casually on the soda she freed from a fan and smiles. It makes Trisha a tad uncomfortable, really.
Belle reaches down and hauls Rue Ann up by her flaming hair. She slings the petite hellion into the steel steps. Then, striding over, she heaves Rue Ann up, tucks her under her arm, and lifts her for a small package piledriver onto the steel steps.
SMALL PACKAGE PILEDRIVER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZS_gTvrw8o
CLANG! Belle drives MacKenna into the steel structure with the small package driver, Rue’s head and back hit the steps hard, draping the redhead over them, her large chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. MacKenna had hoped this attack would have turned out differently, of course. That’s the thought going through the redhead’s mind when Trisha throws a hard punch between the Hellbilly’s breasts, right above the tied off shirt she’s sporting. If Trisha had had more energy behind that punch it may have put Rue away right then and there, but as she is, Belle fell short of a successful heart punch and instead forced a gasp from the redheaded redneck.
Its all the smaller girl can do when she swings her arms up to slap open palms hard against both of Trisha’s ears, boxing her ears. Trisha tries to shake it off, but in her current state, she slumps slightly as she shakes the cobwebs from her head, leaving an unwanted opening for the fresher girl
“Y'kow, Boo, I don't think these steps are regulation,” the familiar, sing-song voice of Rue Ann chimes. She synchs on a reverse headlock. “Take a look, would ya?” Rue Ann lifts her legs. Again, were Trisha fresh, this would be laughable. But exhaustion is taking her and the Amazon is DDTed into the steel steps. She slips to the side, clutching her forehead. In the ring, Trisha can hear more clapping.
The bell rings again. Rue Ann whips to glare at the source of the ringing bell, a pudgy man about ten feet away. She storms over towards him and snatches the hammer. “That's annoying!” she barks. She lifts the bell and snorts. “It's also not how you ring a bell.” The ginger skips towards the writing mass of Minnesotan and nudges Trisha onto her back. “This is,” Rue calls back as she falls onto Trisha and begins wailing on her with the small hammer. It's little and wooden, but it still hurts like hell as Rue brings it down all over in random locations from Trisha's belly to her face, going for the ribs more than once.
The FAWNatics don't really know who to root for here. Both women are so loathed and this brutality seems a bit much. But there no pretending the hate is real.
Rue slips into the ring and climbs to the top of the ringpost looming above Trisha. She flings the bell down onto Trisha, bounding it off the side of her face. “Ding, dong, bitch!” Rue bellows as she heaves herself from her roost, both feet aimed at Trisha's sternum.
The bell clangs on impact, but Trisha moves her head just enough for the metal bell to slam into the concrete and not her skull. Her ears are ringing, but she’s much more clear headed than Rue thinks she is. Then MacKenna lands both feet on Belle’s chest. The Mauler’s eyes wide, she’s definitely awake now, even with the shooting pains running through her ribs and sternum.
The Hellbilly grabs a fistful of the Minnesotan’s brown locks and drags her up to her knees. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Thinking about how much I wanted this, and how much you deserved it. And how much of a favor I’m doing the FAWN locker room by putting you on the injured list.” Belle is still well awake, hearing all of this and seeing Rue clench a fist, readying it to do some further damage to the Minnesota Mauler. So, just as the redhead cocks that clenched fist back for a hard downward punch, Trisha swings a swift uppercut between the Kentucky girl’s legs, slamming into the crotch of Rue’s Daisy Dukes.
MacKenna’s mouth is in a perfect O shape as she groans in pain and sinks to her knees falling to Trisha’s level. The Amazon smiles as she hugs Rue close. “You always did have a problem knowing when to shut up and finish the job.” Belle then grabs two handfuls of fire red hair and forces the Hellbilly’s face into the cleavage of her outfit, locking in a breast smother to put Rue out with her own favorite technique. “And another thing. I’ve always wanted to tell you this. You aren’t as good as you think you are. You never were. Your smothers, for example. Sure, you’ve got the equipment for a good tit smother, no doubt about that. But your form is all wrong. Let me show you how its done.” Trisha hugs her former ally deep into her chest, making certain the now slightly panicked smaller but bustier girl has her nose and mouth sealed off from any fresh air, adding a healthy squeeze to the redhead’s skull to add more pain to the maneuver.
Rue Ann bucks wildly and with a surprising amount of force for someone her size, but Trisha manages to keep her former ally pat, shooting a big grin to the jeering fans. She looks back in the ring instinctively to make sure Aloisia isn't about to attack – and partly hoping to taunt her as well – but the Polynesian beauty is enjoying popcorn, beer, and a hotdog, still sitting in her chair.
Aloisia raises the beer. “Would one of you kill each other already? I'm bored!”
Something about Aloisia not being super-serious is oddly off-putting. More off-putting, however, is the hand that slips past the leghole of Trisha's burgundy one piece and sinks talons into her womanhood, ripping away fast. Trisha shrieks and Rue Ann uses the it as a chance to pull away. Belle isn't keen on letting her new target escape, though, and grabs a fistful of red tresses. Trisha pivots, spinning in a circle and slinging Rue Ann into the corner where guardrails meet. The back of MacKenna's head bounces off the metal rail. Before she can gather herself, Trisha slams a boot across Rue's jaw with a superkick. MacKenna spills to the floor.
“HEY!” yells a familiar voice from the ring.
Trisha looks up at Aloisia, who's holding up the hotdog.
“Why do American sausages takes so bad?”
“That's… that's a hotdog, not a sausage,” Trisha grunts.
Aloisia blinks. “That name is stupid and I refuse to recognize it. Also, you should really pay more attention to her,” the would-be challenger says, gesturing with the meat treat.
Trisha looks to the floor where Rue Ann was… but sees no one. She looks around, looking to the fans for help, but they all just smirk back
Belle angrily hops over the barrier, pushing past the front row FAWNatics, figuring she knows where the redhead ran. And her hunch is right, Rue Ann is fleeing through the crowd, cutting her losses after taking a few hard hits from the already weary Minnesota Mauler. Trisha takes the initiative and charges the fleeing Hellbilly, throwing a double axehandle between MacKenna's shoulder blades, bringing the redhead to a quick stop. "Don't start something if you aren't going to see it through, girl." Belle sneers as she grabs her former partner, one hand with a fistful of scarlet hair, the other by the other holding the belt loops of her daisy dukes as she throws the smaller girl back into the steel barricade. The Hellbilly takes the impact with her shoulder, but crumbles to the floor in a heap as Trisha takes control of her former ally. The bigger girl then grabs the Kentucky girl by the throat and drags her to her feet for some more punishment, her free hand grabbing Rue's thigh as she lifts the girl up for a gorilla press to show off her strength and domination of the smaller woman.
Trisha walks back to the guardrail and gorilla throws Rue Ann, slamming the Kentucky girl into the steel steps to the ring. Returning to ringside, Belle stomps down on the back of MacKenna's head, keeping her boot there while striking a victory pose, complete with flexing. From the ring, Trisha hears Aloisia clearing her throat. The Polynesian-by-way-of-Germany woman points the rest of her hotdog at Trisha. “You need to adjust,” Berge says.
Trisha feels annoyance welling up. “You want some more? I've got plenty left.”
“I can see your plenty,” Aloisia replies. “Everyone can.” Trisha cocks her head while the academic continues. Aloisia's German accent suddenly gets thicker and she leans forward. “Everyone can see your muschi.”
“My… muschi?”
Aloisia looks momentarily embarrassed as she gestures towards her own crotch. “Die Scheide.”
Trisha looks down and sees the crotch of her her one piece, still pulled to the side and showing off her goods. Now all the camera flashes from phones in the audience make more sense. “You could have told me sooner,” Trisha grunts.
“Leck mich am Arsch!” Aloisia barks back. She points down towards Rue Ann. “Setz deinen Arsch in Bewegung!”
Trisha glares up at Aloisia. “I don't speak Germ--” The rest of the sentence is cut off as Belle feels the leg holding her up fold at the knee as Rue Ann slams her fist in the back of it. Trisha falls back, hitting the concrete with her back, and the foot pinning Rue down releases its captive. The hellion pops up, rubbing her jaw where it collided with the steps, and sends a bare foot across Trisha's mouth. Another kick follows. Rue Ann stomps the bare foot down over Trisha's mouth and nose while grabbing onto the barricade. The Minnesotan flails a bit before digging her nails into Rue's calf and shoving her off.
MacKenna stumbles back a few feet. She looks over at a fan holding an expensive, heavy camera on a neck strap. “You're about to be part of the show,” she snips as she yanks it from her neck. As Trisha pushes herself up from all fours, Rue Ann steps forward and swings the camera down at her back.
"UGH!" The camera slams into Belle's back and the Minnesotan is forced to the floor again. Rue casually tosses the broken camera back to the owner. "Think of it as a souvenir." she snarks to the slightly miffed crowd member. The Hellbilly grabs a fistful of Belle's hair and drags the bigger girl up to her knees, but the furious Trisha swings her open hands to Rue's ears, boxing the redhead's ears and then rising to her feet and lifting Rue into a bearhug, squeezing her former friend before charging to the ring apron, prepping to ram MacKenna's spine into the corner of the apron for some nasty impact.
The ring's edge bites into Rue's back and the smaller woman immediately crumbles. Trisha drives her hand into Rue's hair hand hoists her by her locks and pimpslaps her across the face before dumping her like trash. She sneers down at the heap that is the hillbilly. “You wanna put me on the disabled list?” She pulls Rue Ann over her shoulders into a torture rack, pulling MacKenna back like a bow until her head nearly touches her heels. “I'm not sure that's for me. How about you try it first and tell me what you think?” Trisha strides over to the barricade and prepares to drop her, backfirst, over it.
With a swift drop, MacKenna folds backwards over the barricade, struggling weakly while teeter-tottering. Trisha stumbles back and takes in a deep breath. Second wind is slowly subsiding, but she needs to see this runt suffer. She needs to punish her. Belle strides back to the time keeper and yanks the hammer from him. Returning to Rue Ann, Trisha rips away the smaller woman's top to expose her breasts. “I want to thank you for providing me with such perfectly large targets.” Trisha raises the hammer.
Belle reaches over to grab the redhead's locks to keep the Kentucky girl steady on the barrier, then swings the hammer down onto MacKenna's exposed tits. The Southerner groans with each impact but Belle keeps it up, tenderizing Rue's tits for a while. Trisha finally throws the small hammer aside and unzips MacKenna's daisy dukes and fully strips her former partner to really dominate her. With Rue now nude, Belle hoists her up over a shoulder, parading the battered redhead's upturned curvy ass. The Minnesota Mauler finally slaps the shapely rump and slides MacKenna off her shoulder and into position, preparing to piledrive the now vulnerable Rue into to ringside floor. "You made a big mistake coming here tonight, honey." And the Minneapolis girl falls to her knees.
Behind her, Aloisia speaks up, “A simple stripping? That will teach her nothing.” Trisha turns her weary head to the ring where Aloisia slowly rises. “She parades about nude all the time. She has no shame. You might as well scold a pig for rolling in its own filth.” Trisha wants to reply but she's too exhausted. Also, she hates to admit it, but Berge is right.
“She will only understand pain,” the PhD continues. “She is never dominated in FAWN. Only you have done so. This is your chance to prove a point. Not just to her but to everyone in the back. You must break the spirit of the wild animal publicly, and decisively, so the other beasts know their place.” The is an icy cruelty in Aloisia's voice Trisha has never heard before, and she finds herself almost admiring it.
Berge rises and closes the folding chair. “Heads up,” Aloisia chirps as she tosses the chair from the ring. Trisha stumbles to her feet and manages to catch it. “There are many things to do with a folding chair,” Aloisia assures. “Show the rabble how creative you can be.”
Trisha turns and stares down to the prone, unconscious form of Rue Ann and smiles like a cat happening upon a sleeping baby bird. It's almost too easy, too perfect. But when opportunities arise. The fans, horrified at Aloisia's sudden turn, boo both women while Belle raises the chair in front of her and readies another attack.
The attack comes, but not from Trisha. In the ring, Aloisia bounds off the cables behind herself, runs forward, and soars through the ropes in a missile dropkick. Berge's feet slam into the back of Belle's head, slamming the Minnesotan's face into the seat of the metal chair. The exhausted champ drops to her knees, releasing the chair before slumping forward. The FAWNatics immediately snap back behind Aloisia, now rested and ready for payback. Berge kicks her leg up perfectly vertical, grabbing it by her own calf. “Guten tag, bitch,” Aloisia growls as she releases her gam, slamming the back of her foot into Trisha's crown. Belle flattens.
Aloisia pulls Trisha up by her hair and backhands her, spiraling the tired fighter around. The Minnesotan Mauler catches herself with the ring skirt. Aloisia turns the woman to face her and slams a brutal gut punch. Belle folds forwards towards Berge, who smiles. “This is your world now, you know,” Aloisia purrs as she pounds Belle in the belly again. “You will be hounded by every halfwit and would-be who will be clawing at you for your gold. You have no allies.” CRACK! A punch across Trisha's jaw pushes her to the side but Aloisia keeps chatting. “And likely never will. It's been seen how you backstab. No one will watch your rear and every woman you've cheated against, you've attacked, you've made miserable will be gunning for you.”
“I'm still the champ,” Trisha slurs.
Aloisia laughs. “No, you're a product. You have no choice in your opponents. You have no say in your future. FAWN dangled a leash and you put it on yourself.” Another balled fist, this time a heart punch, winds Belle. She feels her body slowing down, becoming sluggish. Rue Ann used up all of her reserves. But Aloisia? Aloisia's fresh.
Trisha has never been on this end of a post-match beat down. Truthfully, she never imagined she ever could be. It's… not scary, but confusing. Frustrating. Dizzying. But maybe the last bit is just the pain taking over.
Aloisia shoves the spent fighter under the bottom rope into the ring. She follows the woman and drags Trisha to a center of the squared circle. “You know, our match was supposed to have a big finish between us,” Aloisia says sternly. “It's not too late.” Berge rolls Trisha onto her stomach and, standing at the woman's feet, hoists her up for her finisher, the Pen-Ure.
PEN-URE:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=KydDVYc1uig
Aloisia immediately releases Trisha, letting her slide into a puddle. The arena is spinning for the Midwest amazon. She looks up and sees the Pacific beauty sliding the shoulder straps of her ribbon-like one piece down, spilling forth her cartoonishly large breasts.
“You were right,” Berge commands as she pulls Belle up to her wobbly feet. “Rue's technique is embarrassing. Her smother gets by on quantity alone, not quality. But yours aren't much better. Let me show you.”
Trisha opens her mouth to protest but Aloisia shoves the champs face deep into her tits. Pulling Trisha's arms up straight, Aloisia crosses them and folds them back, holding each wrist just above its oppose shoulder blade while also using her own arms to hug Trisha's face deep into the smother. Belle struggles but more out of stubbornness than any realistic expectation of freeing herself. The fans, of course, love it, and cheer wildly. Their chanting of “STRIP THE CHAMP! STRIP THE CHAMP!” follows her into the oily, sweaty darkness.
Within a couple of minutes, Trisha is limp and hanging in Aloisia's arms.
“Okay, you've proven your point,” the referee whimpers. “Let her go.”
“No, I haven't,” Aloisia said coldly. “I think everyone would agree this is a long overdue dose of Trisha's own medicine, but she needs one more application.” Berge leans Trisha's limp form on the ropes and shreds the burgundy one piece from from her body, leaving mountain girl naked. Aloisia turns Trisha to face the fans, who cheer triumphantly. Aloisia slides the upper half of Trisha's body between the middle and top rope, draping her arms backwards and over the cable. She then ties Trisha's wrists together with the remains of her one piece.
“Sweet dreams, princess,” Aloisia says, pecking Trisha on the cheek. The camera phone flashes are blinding. Even Gladiatrix gets good shots of it. With that, Aloisia slides from the ring, making sure to stomp on Rue Ann's body as she goes. Up the aisle she stomps, passing medics who are rushing to check on the two laid out women. Backstage, Kelli Love and Selia Brach wait for her.
KELLI LOVE:
SELIA BRACH:
“Hey, great match,” Selia offers sweetly. “Sucks that you got Dqed.”
Aloisia shrugs. “Still feels like a win to me.”
“Yeah, about that,” Kelli replies. Her tone fails to hide her concern. “You…. You didn't have to use your finisher on Trisha. She was done. You could have just smothered her out.”
“I could have,” Aloisia responds, “but I didn't. And she would have done no less to me. She's done no less to me, and many others.”
“But you're better than her,” Kelli replies.
Aloisia ponders that. For a minute, she does feel guilty. It wasn't something she would normally do. But… the chance was there.
“They fans loved it,” Aloisia assures Kelli.
Love saddles up next to Aloisia and slides an arm over her shoulders. “Yeah, so did you. That's what kinda worries me.”
Aloisia says nothing. She merely picks up her pace and strides to the locker room.