Post by samiamnot on Dec 13, 2019 20:17:37 GMT
A Note from Sam: I'm trying something a little different here, partly as an exercise to get back into writing, by sending Trixie on the road away from FAWN. Some of these matches are with other promotions, some will be FAWN matches that are basically "away games," but I wasn't sure where else to post them. Also, thanks to Shi'an, Boobytrap, and JB Garner for edits on this post. If you have any comments or input on this, I'd certainly appreciate it. Enough of my babble now.
“They better chain your hands
Spread some evil, pick anld pan
Hey, you sure got some jets inside
But you got to live with those empty eyes.”
- The Cars, “Double Trouble”
The Home of Trixie Decker, just outside Orlando
November 7, 2019
11:14am ET
TRIXIE DECKER:
Trixie threw a t-shirt on as she ran towards the door, the sounds of her feet vanishing in the furious knocking.
“I’m coming!” she bellowed, grunting swears. She looked down at herself – a grungy t-shirt, black panties, one plaid sock. She momentarily considered more clothing but decided anyone barging into her home and interrupting her quiet time got what they got. Trixie grabbed hold of the doorknob and flung the door open. “What the fu--” She stopped herself and stared in shock.
BETHANY CHRISTIAN:
FAWN’s CEO, Bethany Christian, offered a smile so fake it might as well have been made of plastic. “Hello, Miss Decker.” The older, taller woman scanned Trixie’s sloppy attire and clucked her tongue. “Dressed to impress, I see.”
Before she could stop herself, Trixie snarked, “If I knew you were coming, I’d have put on something special for the occasion, like garlic and a crucifix.” Trixie offered back a fake smile, but in her brain, a voice was screaming, “What are you doing?! That’s your boss!” This was true. And Trixie had never really spoken to Bethany. The CEO wasn’t there when Trixie signed the contracts to join FAWN and what few interactions they’d had since was merely a nod or stare in passing in the halls.
After an uncomfortable beat, Trixie cleared her throat and spoke. “Would you like to come in?”
It was like summoning a demon, Bethany shoved her way in so quickly. The older ring vet-turned-fed head looked around Trixie’s condo. It was large, being a third of a floor of a long-dead factory converted to homes, but was sparsely decorated. A few pictures, a TV, an old couch that was currently home to a sleeping St. Bernard, and a tall pedestal where a macaw angrily glared at both of them from.
Bethany clapped her hands with phony enthusiasm and looked about. “So this is how the other half lives.” Her gaze returned to Trixie, and she added, “Quaint.”
“Can I offer you a drink?” Trixie asked as she headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got water, some beers, juice. There’s a park nearby if you’d prefer the blood of an innocent child.”
“Oh, no, thank you, I can’t stay long,” Bethany replied. “In fact, neither can you.”
Trixie’s head whipped around to stare at her boss. “Did you come here to fire me?!”
Bethany looked uncharacteristically shocked for a moment. “Oh! Oh, no! I guess the wording was confusing. What I meant to say was you need to grab your ring gear and come with me. You have a match tonight.” Decker tilted her head, confused. “Did I forget there’s a pay-per-view?”
“Oh, no, goodness no,” Bethany laughed. “There’s no FAWN show tonight. You have a match across the state in a city called Crestview. We’re taking FAWN’s private plane so we can have a little chat.”
Trixie felt uncomfortable suddenly. “I’m confused. Why am I wrestling for some other fed across the state?”
“It’s very simple,” Bethany said sweetly. “Your contract stipulates you can be required to represent FAWN in various ways, such as USO tours, public appearances, and even sent to wrestle for other promotions to help foster relationships with those entities. A smaller promotion alerted me they were in desperate need of talent to face an up-and-comer that they’re also hoping FAWN will take an interest in once she’s got more experience under her belt. And I decided you’d be that talent.” Bethany punctuated the “you” by poking Trixie in the nose.
Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s it?”
“Well, there is one more reason,” Bethany said sweetly. “If you don’t do it, I’ll fire you for violating your contract.” She clapped like summoning the help. “Now, let’s get that gear and head out, shall we? I’ve been meaning to have some quality girl talk with you for a while.
Inside the private plane owned by FAWN, on a small private runway 30 miles outside of Orlando
12:45pm ET
Trixie had heard of this plane but never seen the outside of it, much less the inside. Now, she sat in what amounted to a posh couch opposite her boss, Bethany Christian, looking at an array of sushi and champagne.
“A light lunch for the flight,” Bethany said, waving at the food. “Please, help yourself. It’s really the best sushi in the southeast.
Trixie was not really all that familiar with sushi, having had it maybe three times in her life, but looked for something familiar. She saw maki with familiar orange-ish contents she recognized as oshinko, a Japanese pickle, and took her chopsticks and set to work. “This looks lovely,” she told Bethany. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Miss Decker,” Christian cooed. “Did you make arrangements for someone to tend to your beasts?”
Trixie nodded as she chewed an oshinko roll. “Kelli will feed them and walk Antonio for me. She loves dogs. I didn’t know you cared about the well being of animals.”
Bethany sipped champagne and grinned. “I don’t. That’s why I’m the perfect person to lord over wrestlers. I know animals should be kept in their place.”
Trixie felt her stomach sink even though she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here it comes, she thought to herself.
The plane lurched forward on the runway, and Bethany looked out the window, drinking from her champagne flute. “Tell me, Miss Decker. Why did you hesitate in your match with Kanako?”
This caught Trixie by surprise, even though she knew what Bethany meant. Just a couple of months before, Trixie faced Kanako Akiyama in a brutal match where the winner was guaranteed a shot at the Lightweight Title. After flirting and fighting, Kanako injured herself. Trixie, not wanting to win this way, initially faltered at climbing the ladder to beat Akiyama. But she knew if she didn’t, there’s be repercussions for both of them.
It would seem, now, there would be just repercussions for Trixie.
“It was disrespectful to win over someone like that,” Trixie said, swallowing a mouthful of spicy tuna. “Kanako deserved better.”
“Is that really the reason?” Bethany asked, the annoyance she’d been hiding slowly appearing. “It’s not because you wanted her affections? You two are dating now, are you not?”
Grimacing, Trixie nodded. “Yes, we are. But that had nothing to do with it.”
“Or perhaps you just wanted to waste everyone’s time,” Christian growled, swirling her drink in its glass. “After a little looking, I found something interesting – your old LiveJournal from early in your wrestling career. You once referred to a wrestling belt as a ‘collar feds choke and drag you around with, like a dog.’” The look Bethany shot Trixie could have killed. “If that’s your opinion, then why even have the match in the first place?”
“Because I was told to,” Trixie replied, pulling more rolls towards her. “If I’d said, ‘No, I don’t want to have that title shot qualifying match,’ would you be any less angry at me?”
Bethany weighed this. The truth is, she’d probably be angrier, but she refused to let Decker know this.
“Is this why I haven’t had my match with Estrina yet?” Trixie asked. “Because you didn’t like how my match with Kanako ended?”
“It’s one of a few reasons,” Christian said as she gulped her glass’s contents before refilling it. “I suppose, to some, your respect towards Kanako and her injury would be respectable. You showed honor and care for an opponent.” She gave the younger goth a sickly sweet smile. “But to me, it’s just annoying.”
“And annoying you is, of course, a punishable offense,” the Jinx said as she pushed her meal around on her plate.
“Practically capital punishment,” Bethany assured. “So, I decided to spend some time thinking about how to correct your behavior so that it never happens again.”
“I suppose writing a heartfelt essay about why I’ll never do it again is out of the question,” Trixie joked. Bethany didn’t laugh.
“You’ll face Estrina in January’s pay-per-view,” Bethany stated flatly. “Until then, you are going to be a very, very busy girl. See, FAWN gets requests all the time from other promotions to borrow or rent talent for their shows. Usually, this gets ignored, or we send talent not currently in use but still under contract – the stars of years ago, if you will. But until the January pay-per-view, those promotions are in luck. They’ll be getting a current FAWN talent with fan recognition. Not top tier, of course, but in the running for a belt.”
And there’s the rub, Trixie thought to herself. “How many of these requests do you get on average?”
The devilish glee burned bright in Christian’s eyes. “Oh, goodness, too many to realistically send you to all of them, but we’ll certainly try. We’ll keep it in North America – sending you overseas opens up the situations to variables beyond my control, and that’s not acceptable. But if a podunk, backwoods promotion that only does shows in the parking lot of an abandoned Pizza Hut calls and you’re dance card is empty for that day, you better get packing.”
Trixie sighed. “Okay. So I’ll just be doing a match a day until January’s show.”
“Oh, no,” Christian chided with a dismissive wave. “You’re still FAWN proper-- talent, and that would surely end in injury. I don’t want you crippled, after all. We don’t make money off a wrestler who’s paralyzed.” She raised the glass to her lips and smiled. “But I wouldn’t plan any long weekend getaways with your sweetie.”
Decker only nodded. There was really little else she could do besides accept her fate and attempt to eat the food in front of her, although she suddenly felt less hungry.
“I know it seems harsh – perhaps even unfair,” Bethany said in a motherly tone, “but it will build character and, more importantly, you’ll learn a very important lesson.” The older woman once again filled her glass and held it up as a toast. “And that lesson is, simply, don’t ever piss me off again.”
A Local Gym’s Locker Room in Crestview, Florida
7:21 PM
From the locker room, Trixie watched the action in the ring. Two young men were tossing each other around, doing basic grapples. They were obviously rookies but had a lot of hope. A hard tap jabbed into Trixie’s right shoulder. She closed the door and turned to face Bethany.
“What now?” Trixie said, expecting more gloating or threats. Bethany, however, was matter-of-fact.
“Just a few things,” FAWN’s CEO began. “You’re not wrestling in FAWN now.”
“No,” Trixie said with a snicker. “I’m wrestling in Florida All-Pro! FAP! They’ve got a firm grip on wrestling!”
Bethany cupped her forehead and massaged her temple. “Yes, the name is exceptionally unfortunate, but that’s not what I wanted to speak to you about. You are still bound by FAWN’s contracts. This includes all consent forms. All of them.”
Trixie blinked as her mind raced back to joining FAWN and the mountain of paperwork involved. Amongst the pages and pages were releases, image rights, and consent forms. Those forms explained the more adult nature of FAWN matches. This includes assurances and evidence of being over 18 for the 18 U.S. Code 2257. It gave Trixie the option to consent to the sexually explicit content of the matches or find a place more family-friendly.
“Oh, so you’re saying this match could get touchy?” Trixie replied.
“I wasn’t sure,” Bethany said, looking around, “but I’ve spoken to both the promoter and your opponent about it. They seemed very interested in doing things the FAWN way. I got it in writing to protect us both.”
“That’s great and all,” Trixie interrupted, “but who exactly is my opponent?”
The question elicited a Cheshire cat smile from Christian. “You wouldn’t know her. She’s a rookie. In fact, you’re probably her third or fourth professional match. Just know, what she lacks in experience, she makes up for in altitude.”
Trixie did not like the sound of this.
A crew member peeked into the locker room. “Ms. Decker? Your match is next. You’ll be coming out first per Ms. Christian’s request.”
Trixie slowly looked back at Bethany.
“Obviously, the bigger name would normally get the second entrance for the bigger fan reaction,” her boss said, “but I really wanted to keep this all a surprise for you.”
The goth wrestler snorted. “You just know how to show a girl a good time.”
“I do so try,” Bethany said as she turned and walked away. “Have a good match, Trixie. Try for a win. Don’t expect it, but try.”
All alone, Trixie returned to her locker and opened it. She looked at her phone and saw a message waiting. She unlocked it and read the text:
Apparently, FAP livestreams their shows on Facebook. I’ll be watching and rooting for you. XOXO
Trixie smiled. A text from Kanako could turn her whole day around. She turned off her phone and put it back into the locker, locking it tight. Just as Trixie did, she heard the ring announcer over the speaker system. She immediately moved to the door and prepared to enter the gym.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is a standard bout with a fifteen-minute time limit. First, hailing from Flint, Michigan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds – love her or hate her she’s a star of FAWN… TRIXIE ‘JINX’ DECKER!”
Trixie threw the door open and stomped through a makeshift curtained entrance. Strobe lights went off as Trixie’s entrance music as she raised her arms to the fans.
“NEVER WANTED TO DANCE” BY MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE:
There were, at best, eighty people in the gym, but they were excited and cheered to the best of their ability. Trixie ran to the bleaches, running up the rickety wooden structure to slap hands and great fans. She still wasn’t used to being a fan favorite, but here it seemed more tolerable, possibly because of the smaller crowds. Going into the bleachers gave her a chance to size up the audience – zealous, engaged, and, most importantly, all adults from what she could see.
The last thing she needed was a charge for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
The eventually stomped down the bleachers and to the rings. No chairs around the ring and no fans on the other side of the gym. The lights were completely off, and a few spotlights lit the squared circle up.
That’s when Trixie noticed the music and paused. The song they were playing for her wasn’t her ring song. Well, not anymore. It was the very first entrance song she ever used after making the jump from session to indie wrestler, to eventually be traded for other MSI songs. Upon joining the “big leagues,” it was strongly “suggested” she change her music to “Get Jinxed!” Weird.
The Jinx slid under the bottom rope before climbing the turnbuckles to blow kisses to the fans. Again, this served a purpose beyond building excitement from the fans. She bounced and tested the ropes and turnbuckles. The ropes seemed tightened and ready but looked frayed and old. The turnbuckle covers were covered in rips and tape and definitely needed the padding inside replaced. The ring, on the whole, looked ready to implode.
Trixie’s music died, and she hopped down and approached the ref, a portly thirty-something man in thick glasses, to be checked. “Hey, there’s no kids here, right?”
The ref patted Trixie down and shook his head. “Not tonight. When it was announced you’d be on the card, anyone with a kid was turned away and got a refund.”
The assurance Trixie hoped for fell flat. She was still glad there’s be no stripping, or worse, in front of innocent eyes, but something about all of this felt like a set-up and something worse than Bethany’s petty motivations. There was, of course, nothing she could do about it, and she moved to the corner as the ring announcer held up the mic to his lips.
“Her opponent this evening, hailing from Tupelo, Mississippi and standing at six feet, one inch and one hundred forty-one pounds--”
Trixie suddenly understood what “altitude” meant.
“She’s the flavor of evil… she is SINNAMON!”
SINNAMON:
"BAD GIRLS" BY M.I.A.:
A chill ran down Trixie’s spine as the song of her opponent began playing. She hadn’t heard that song since about six months before joining FAWN in mid-2013. It was her song.
Correction, it was their song.
Specifically, it was the song her ex-fiancé and former tag partner, Jet Laine, had chosen for them to replace the song Trixie had preferred, “Revenge” by Mindless Self Indulgence – she really had a thing for the band for a while. She hadn’t heard “Bad Girls” since the last match she’d had fighting side-by-side with Jet.
Trixie had spent a long time trying to forget that match, that betrayal, and the injuries that nearly ended her career.
She looked up to the entrance and saw a tall, muscular woman with a young face step out from behind the curtain. The fans immediately jeered her, throwing food and beer cups at her. But this Sinnamon paid them no mind. She just stared at Trixie from behind stringy blonde hair covering her face. She wore a vintage bikini top, red with white polka dots, ripped baggy jeans, and Converse hi-tops covered in scribbles and stains. Sinnamon stumbled and jerked towards the ring like it was the first time she’d ever worn her body. Trixie tried to mentally parse out what drugs this burn-out could be on as the rookie pulled herself up the skirt of the ring and steps in between the top and middle ropes, never once looking away from Jinx. From behind blonde hair peered cold eyes, freckles, and a weird smile that almost screamed, “I know where there are a lot of dead bodies because I left them there.”
The announcer quickly rolled from the ring as Sinnamon stumbled towards Trixie, giving a low giggle. The ref tried to check her, but the tall woman palmed his face and shoved him away. The woman loomed over Trixie, and she finally got a good look at the rookie. She was broad and muscular, with a tattoo sleeve on her left arm of what appeared to be three lesbian devils pleasing each other. She also looked ready to spill out of her top. And Sinnamon was more than a name. She smelled of cinnamon. Cinnamon and clove cigarettes and cheap vodka and sex sweat.
Sinnamon licked her chapped lips. “I heard you taste good,” she grunted.
Trixie forced a grin. “I’m really glad those positive TripAdvisor reviews of my crotch are getting so many views.”
Sinnamon seemed confused by this. Trixie wasn’t sure if it was the joke or the use of multiple syllables that flew over the giantess’s head, but pursuing it seemed pointless.
The referee forced his way back between them. “Okay, to your corners. Let’s keep this clean.” His words were obviously aimed at Sinnamon, who only smiled stupidly. Trixie took a few steps backward before turning and going to her corner to stretch. Instantly she felt the mat shake as heavy footsteps ran towards her. Decker ducked as a fist flew through the space her head once was. Still squatting, Trixie rolled backward between Sinnamon’s parted legs, kicking her own feet up straight into the Amazon’s most sensitive spot.
Sinnamon howled as she stumbled to the side, falling into the ropes. “Ref, she’s cheating!” the taller woman yelped.
“You attacked her before the bell rang and with a closed fist,” the official answered with a shrug. “Like… I guess it evens out?” He motioned to the timekeeper who hit the bell to start the match.
Trixie tumbled backward before flipping to her feet. Trixie struck a leg out, kicking Sinnamon’s feet from beneath her. The tall woman landed flat on her ass just in time for another kick, this time across the jaw. The rookie was immediately stunned.
“Oh, come on, Decker,” the referee boomed. “She’s in the ropes!”
Trixie places a hand on her chest as she looked at the zebra. “And in our hearts, like Jesus,” she said wistfully.
The referee shook his head for a minute. “Wait, what? That doesn’t make sense!” But it distracted him long enough for Trixie to drop an elbow square into Sinnamon’s crown. The referee began a count, but Trixie didn’t care to press her luck. Instead, she grabbed the big crybaby’s ankles and yanked her from the ropes. Trixie was immediately struck by how heavy Sinnamon felt. Sure, she was way taller than Trixie but only twenty-plus pounds heavier.
She dragged the rookie to the center of the ring before rolling Sinnamon onto her stomach. She crossed Sinnamon’s calves before pulling them up and sitting on them. Then, Trixie reached down and laced her hands under the newbie’s chin for a hard double-toed leglock/chinlock combo. Just as Trixie suspected, Sinnamon – despite her size and attempts at menace – was a baby about pain and screamed in agony. The Jinx cranked the chinlock back further in hopes of ending the match early with a submission.
Alas, this was not to be. The problem with this hold was it left Sinnamon’s hands free. Sinnamon’s left hand reached up and grabbed Trixie’s, wrenching the fingers backwards as far as they’d go and then a little more. The shock and pain forced Trixie to release the chinlock and distracted her long enough for Sinnamon to pull her legs free. The taller woman released Trixie’s hand and rolled back onto her back before planting a pair of huge Converse right into Trixie’s breasts. The larger woman’s legs were so strong that Decker shot back almost to the ropes before landing on her back.
Trixie pushed herself up but was met by a devastating kick to the ribs. She rolled onto her side from the force, letting Sinnamon slam another kick between her shoulder blades. Shots of color and light exploded in front of Trixie’s eyes. Sinnamon didn’t have skill, but she had brute force in spades. Trixie had to accept there was no question – this giant was stronger than her. Trixie had to be smarter.
Sinnamon hauled Trixie up and threw her over her shoulder in a backbreaker. It was a clumsy one – Sinnamon didn’t bother with trying to secure her prey, but Trixie was so stunned there was little she could do. The blonde stomped over to the corner and hoisted Trixie in the air, flipping her and dropping her stomach first onto the ring post, keeping her head pointed inward to the ring. The metal post drove mercilessly into Trixie’s gut. Sinnamon grabbed a handful of Trixie’s raven hair and ripped her forward. The uneven surface of the top of the post scratched Trixie all the way down to her nethers as the hateful rookie pulled. Sinnamon stopped when Trixie’s feet hit the top of the cables and released her hairpull, letting Trixie swing down, face-first, into the bottom turnbuckle. As luck would have it, the turnbuckle’s pad had no padding – but did have a gaping hole that let Trixie’s forehead slam into the buckle itself.
This pain would have been enough for Trixie, but Sinnamon wanted more. Lacing her fingers together and raising her joined fists above her head, bringing down an axe-handle between Trixie’s legs. She raised them again and once more punished Trixie’s crotch, yelling the whole time.
“I’m gonna pound your gash so bad your bitch isn’t gonna be able to fit her pinky in because of the swelling!” Sinn shrieked. The axe-handle gave way to just a rain of fists as the amazon worked herself up into a frothing rage. “You think you’re smart?! You think you’re better than me because you’re in FAWN?! You’re trash! You’re puny trash, and I know how to please--” Sinnamon paused the pounding and looked at the referee, who had three fingers up, then four. “Why are you counting?” she asked him.
“Because you are about to get disqualified if you don’t get her out of the corner,” he barked.
“Really?” Sinnamon turned to face him, completely confused. “There’s a time limit?”
“Yes!” the zebra boomed. “Of course there is!” He read her face and turned pale. “Oh, hell. You’re really surprised by this. You really didn’t know?!”
Sinnamon suddenly felt self-conscious, like a child called out for not doing her book report. “How am I supposed to know stuff like that?”
The official sputtered, “Because you cover this in the basics when you were trained! Who the hell trained you?”
Sinnamon’s embarrassment gave way to glee. “As a matter of fact, it was--” She turned to Trixie to gloat but stopped. Trixie wasn’t in the corner anymore.
Sinnamon panicked, looking around her and back into the corner as if she had just overlooked a whole living person who might be tucked under a turnbuckle. She looked outside the ring but saw no one, just shadowy corners of the gym.
Her confusion was answered as she felt one hundred seventeen pounds of pissed off goth slam into her back, driving Sinnamon into the turnbuckles, then planting feet into her back for a lungblower.
LUNGBLOWER:
It wasn’t a perfect lungblower by any stretch. Lungblowers weren’t exactly Trixie’s specialty, and a ring veteran of Sinnamon’s size over Trixie’s might have taken the hit and stayed mostly upright, but Sinnamon was obviously untrained and a pain wimp. She shrieked like Trixie slammed golf cleats into her back before toppling backward. Trixie slammed against the mat but propelled the blonde up and forward into the corner with her legs.
By some miracle, the tall wrestler caught herself before slamming into the turnbuckles. Not wanting to give Trixie any more free shots on her, Sinnamon dropped to her knees and scurried out of the ring like a rat abandoning a sinking ship. The fans made sure she knew they thought this was a cheap tactic and began chanting, “CO-WARD! CO-WARD!” A typical rookie with a short fuse, Sinnamon forgot the pain and Trixie and moved to the front of the ring to scream obscenities at the fans, demanding their respect. And, of course, this had the exact opposite effect.
But while the tall blonde lost her temper on the unwashed mass, Trixie sized her up from the ring. Bounding off the far cables behind the enraged woman, Trixie propelled herself across the ring into a slide under the bottom rope, catching Sinnamon from behind for a perfect sliding DDT.
SLIDING DDT (AT 0:40):
Sinnamon’s head thudded off the gym’s polished floor, and she immediately flopped onto her side, clutching her forehead. Trixie debated making a joke about hollow sounds but, considering the vacancy of the audience, the material would be lost. When Sinnamon rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to all fours, the goth stepped to her side, kicked her right leg up, and caught her own ankle. She pulled her leg as high as it would go only to release, bringing her heel down where Sinnamon’s neck and skull base meet. The rookie let out a sad “oof” before falling flat to the gym floor. It was a brutal, and possibly shady, tactic but Trixie knew she couldn’t face this brute in a “fair” fight. Even with her superior skill, all it took was getting into Sinnamon’s hands once, and she’d be torn to shreds.
Leaving the hot mess to sob on the floor, Trixie rolled back into the ring where the referee’s count was on three. She threw a few friendly finger guns before climbing the nearest ring post, aiming herself at Sinnamon, and launching into a double foot stomp into the woman’s back.
The audience recoiled in horror as the smaller goth crashed down onto Sinnamon, who let out a howl like a wounded animal. Obvious tears welled up in the blonde’s eyes, and Trixie suddenly felt a sting of guilt. It was time to end this nonsense. If it continued, she’d look like the monstrous bully who tortured an innocent newbie, and she only just got FAWNatics to stop screaming at her for stripping Bunny Cooper years ago.
Trixie pulled Sinnamon to her feet by her long hair. Without thinking, Trixie did a double-take of disgust – Sinnamon’s hair was oily and gritty, like she didn’t shower enough. She didn’t have time to think on it long, though, as agony exploded into Trixie’s belly.
As Decker dropped to her knees and gasped, Sinnamon loomed over her, face red and hateful tears streaming down her cheeks. The fist that slammed into Trixie’s belly cocked back, and the blonde pulled Trixie back up by her hair. Another thunderous belt slammed into Trixie, and her vision momentarily blurred. It was a strength she wasn’t used to, like a pro boxer going after her. Another hit and Trixie crumpled, only somewhat on her feet because of Sinnamon’s hairpull.
The larger woman heaved Trixie over her head in a gorilla press before hurling her into the ring. Trixie’s leg caught the middle rope, and her flight was cut short with a face plant. Sinnamon followed Trixie into the ring, stepping between the top and bottom rope and dropping a large foot onto Trixie’s right hand. She ground her foot into it, enjoying the feeling and the look of pain on Trixie’s face.
“You’re nothing but a little bitch,” Sinnamon hissed as she yanked Trixie up. She looked the FAWN wrestler in the eyes and smiled. “And there’s only one thing to do with a bitch.” A lightning-fast backhand spiraled Trixie to the ring’s center.
Trixie attempted to scramble to her feet, and Sinnamon was all too happy to help. She yanked the smaller brunette up and into a bearhug, lifting Trixie so they’d be eye to eye. As the vice-like grip tightened, all Trixie could see was the hateful smirk on Sinnamon’s face. Trixie flailed and pried, but she was locked in tight.
“I’m going to break you,” Sinnamon growled. “Then I’m going to play with you.” She let out a high pitched maniacal giggle before dropping Trixie’s crotch on an outstretched knee. Trixie yelped as Sinnamon pulled her back up into a proper bearhug, lifting Decker almost over her shoulder as she squeezed.
The referee checked for a submission, but as Trixie opened her mouth to say, “No,” Sinnamon’s fingers dug into the trapped woman’s sides and clutched handfuls of her meat. The blonde thug twisted and yanked Trixie’s sides so hard she thought she’d rip it all off. Trixie could only shake her head “no” and gurgle inexplicable sounds at the ref.
Slam! Another belly-to-belly atomic drop with Trixie yanked back up into the bearhug. Somehow, the hold felt tighter, and the vet felt her head spin. Unless something changed, this was how the match would end – Trixie crushed unconscious by the stoned crazy woman and then no telling what else. If she was going to go out, desperate measures couldn’t hurt.
Trixie looked down at the smug woman crushing her and placed her hands on Sinnamon’s shoulders. Reeling her head back, Trixie slammed her face into Sinnamon’s for a face-to-face headbutt. She repeated the process again and again, hitting Sinn in the forehead, eye, and nose. At first, the Amazon seemed confused, but then the pain caught up. The rookie’s hold on Trixie’s waist loosened, causing the smaller woman to slip down a little mid-headbutt. The last onslaught caught Sinnamon right in the nose and caused her to break the hug instantly.
“That can’t be legal!” Sinn cried as she stumbled back. The tears were back, and they brought friends. She looked sullenly to the official. “You have to disqualify her now!”
“Headbutts are perfectly legal,” he droned.
“Oh, so I can’t hit her with a closed fist, but she can hit me with a closed face?!” Sinn demanded.
The referee gaped in confusion for a minute before mumbling, “I mean… yeah.”
While Sinnamon and the referee argued the finer points of the actual rules and logistics of open skulled attacks, Trixie stumbled to the ropes and steadied herself. Her ribs and waist were killing her, not to mention the agony between her thighs. This match had to end, and it had to end now, preferably in a manner that allowed Trixie to walk out of the gym instead of being carried.
Trixie felt the ring shake and, without looking up, she knew Sinnamon was charging her. Trixie dropped and rolled backward, hoping Sinnamon would keep going past the ropes and into the gym. No luck, sadly, as the larger woman stopped herself in time and switched direction towards Trixie. Decker knew she only had one weapon left – her big, fat mouth.
“You sure cry a lot,” Trixie said as she ducked another swing from Sinnamon. “Are you like twelve? Does your mommy know you’re fighting in a big girl show?”
“SHUT UP,” Sinnamon boomed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not crying! I will fucking kill you!”
“Veeeeeery convincing,” Trixie cooed as she dodged, barely, more hits from Sinnamon. “I get it, you’re trying to cry me into a false sense of ‘I’m the only adult in this ring’! Very clever!”
Sinnamon screamed as she threw a wild punch that missed Trixie by a mile. Decker weaved and retreated until her back hit turnbuckles, and she slid down, resting her head between the top and middle pads. The blonde cackled through her crying. “You think you’re so fucking smart?! You trapped yourse--”
The sentence wasn’t finished. Sinnamon threw a devastating punch towards Trixie’s head, but at the point of impact, Trixie wasn’t there anymore. She dropped to the mat, letting Sinnamon’s fist travel until, at the greatest force she could manage, it slammed into the metal ring post.
There isn’t really a name for what the sounds Sinnamon unleashed as she pulled back her hand and wept. It was a mix of agony and betrayal – betrayal at her first for missing, at Trixie for not taking the hit, and at the ring post for being very rudely solid. The blonde pulled the first to her chest and ran to the official, begging him to do something, although what no one would really decipher.
Trixie saw this as her last chance to act. She ran at Sinnamon, leaping onto her back like a spider monkey. She threw one leg across the back of Sinnamon’s neck and grabbed the injured fist by the wrist, cranking it back. Before the rookie knew what hit her, Trixie had her in her finisher, Jinxed.
JINXED (BLACK WIDOW):
The referee barely got to ask Sinnamon if she’d submit before she begged him to pry Trixie off. “YES!” the tall woman howled. “I SUBMIT! HELP ME!”
The referee motioned the timekeeper and commanded Trixie to dismount. Despite all her desires to break Sinnamon’s arm and put her out of wrestling’s misery, Trixie released and leaped off.
From the timekeeper’s table, the announcer took the mic. “Laaaaaadies and gentlemen, your winner by disqualification… TRIXIE DECKER!”
Trixie raised her hands to the fans, all of whom rose to show their pleasure at her defeating the rookie brat. Behind her, Trixie felt the mat pound. She turned to see Sinnamon, now in full breakdown, punching the mat.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” the large woman bellowed, wiping tears. “I was supposed to beat you! I was told to make you beg, and now I’m going to be in trouble!”
Decker cocked her head. “In trouble with who?”
That’s when the clang sounded, and Trixie found herself face-first down against the mat. A boot dug into her side, kicking Trixie onto her back. Looking up into the spotlights, Trixie saw the forms of two shapely women – one with short-cropped hair and holding a folding chair, the other with long locks and implants for days.
“With us, slut,” said an all-too-familiar voice.
God damn it, no,” Trixie thought.
JET LAINE:
CHARDONNAY:
Trixie’s ex-fiancé, Jet, leaned down while driving the top edge of the folding chair into Trixie’s throat. She leaned on it to keep it where it was. “Miss me, Trix Bunny?” Hearing Jet’s old pet name for her would have made Trixie’s skin crawl on the best of days, but this was worse. “I bet the nights are long and you’ve been missing my good loving. I’ve heard you been slutting it up since I got bored of you.”
“Oh, no, baby,” Chardonnay purred as she nuzzled up to her girlfriend. “She’s got a girlfriend now. An itty-bitty thing. They met in a match, and Trixie didn’t want to beat her cuz Kanako was injured.” Chardonnay placed a hand on her chest and sighed cartoonishly. “So chivalrous. So romantic.”
“Still so fucking stupid!” Jet laughed as she raised the chair and drove it into Trixie’s temple.
“Just a damn minute!” the referee yelled as he stepped forward to intervene. Before he could, Sinnamon set upon him, dragging him away and hurling him from the squared circle. She turned to smile at Jet and Chardonnay as if to ask, “I did good?” but their scowls said it all.
Chardonnay snapped and pointed to the mat. “Sit, Puppy. Puppies don’t stand until they earn the right to stand.” Sinnamon breathed in deep and dropped to her knees, placing her hands in her lap.
Jet placed a boot on Trixie’s throat. “I guess we didn’t condition you enough to take a beating. We’ll be working on that.”
“Oh, nooooo,” Chardonnay said soothingly to Jet. “We shouldn’t take the blame and deny Puppy the honor of it.” She glared back at the humiliated woman kneeling. “We’re going to work on you, Puppy. You’re going to learn new tricks, or we’re going to have to rehome you. Understand?”
Sinnamon looked down sadly and nodded. “Woof,” she whimpered.
Jet smiled then reached down and pulled up a handful of Trixie’s mop. “Up, Puppy.” Sinnamon hopped to her feet and caught Decker when her mistress shoved the woman to her. “Since you were bad you don’t get to play, but you do get to hold her while we play. Isn’t that fun?”
The tall woman giddily nodded her head. “Bark!”
Jet cocked an eyebrow and looked at Chardonnay, who shrugged. “I told her she used up all her human words for the month.” She looks back at the tall pet. “Sleeper hold.”
Trixie felt an arm slide under her jaw and a hand palm the back of her head, lightly squeezing. When she wriggled the hold tightened. That’s when Jet drove the edge of the chair into Trixie’s ribs.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Chardonnay sang as she ripped Trixie’s net shirt off. She reached behind Decker and unclasped her top, spilling her b-cups out for all to see. The Barbie Doll stand-in clucked her tongue and looked back to her girlfriend. “How could you leave all that bounty behind?” she asked sarcastically.
Jet shrugged. “I had low self-esteem. I didn’t know I could do better until you showed me.” She blew a kiss to Chardonnay, who grabbed it out of the air. Jet turned to where the cameras streaming the match were. “And, Kanako, I know you’ll probably see this. You can do better, too. I mean, look at this sloppy mess!” She gestured to Trixie’s heaving body, desperately trying to breathe. “Surely there’s someone strong and actually attractive at FAWN you could hook up with. But, hey, I get it. We all slum it once in a while.” Jet dropped the chair and cracked her knuckles. “But just in case you really like eating this sad cow, let me tenderize your meal for you.”
Immediately both Jet and Chardonnay began throwing punches into Trixie’s ribs and guts. It was impossible for her to fend off all – even most – of the attacks with exhaustion and Sinnamon upon her. Chardonnay took particular pleasure in punching Trixie in the breasts.
“Think of this as a favor,” the blonde laughed. “We might get ‘em to swell up to a c cup!”
Each hit took a little more energy from Trixie. Then came the hits to the jaw and cheek. It was all Trixie could do to not blackout. Her bones felt like they were melting. Suddenly, the hits stopped.
Chardonnay snapped her fingers. “Release.”
Sinnamon released the hold, and Trixie spilled into a puddle on the mat. Chardonnay and Jet smiled at each other as they pulled Trixie out, flat on her back. Jet got down on all fours and slithered up her ex’s body. The feeling of Jet’s skin, the smell of her perfume, it triggered confusing feelings of old love remembered and unbridled hate – both of which Trixie was just too battered to do anything about. Jet rubbed her tits into Trixie's, cooing into her ear, “Remember these? I bet you miss them, don’t you?” Jet grabbed Trixie’s right hand and ran her fingertips across her lips. “And these? I bet you’ve missed the kisses and pleasure they gave you. How can you not?” She leaned in to kiss Trixie, but to Jet’s surprise, Trixie turned her head.
“… no,” was all Trixie could weakly say.
Jet sneered. “Fine, I get it. You know tasting me again will just break your heart. Well, I just want you to know,” Jet continued, playing softly with Trixie’s hair, “I don’t regret any of our time together. I always cherish those memories I have of you because you were the most important stepping stone I could have used.” The smile turned wicked. “And that’s all you ever were. Someone to use and throw away when someone better came along.” Jet looked up at Chardonnay and made a kiss. “And someone better definitely came along.” She looked back at Trixie. “And just so we’re clear, all those fears you told me you had about being worthless, about not being good enough, about being less than?” She stroked Trixie’s cheek. “They’re absolutely true, and everyone knows.”
The words hurt more than Trixie expected. Even after all these years, it was like jagged glass being shoved into her heart.
Jet sat up and turned, looking back to the livestream cameras. “And, Kanako, just so we’re clear,” Jet ran a hand down her body, “when you fuck this mess, I’m what she thinks about. It’s okay to move on and find someone better.” Jet looked down at Trixie and saw the pain in her eyes. She smiled. “Trixie expects you to do it, anyway. Why disappoint her by dragging it out?”
Chardonnay dropped to the mat and grabbed Trixie’s arms, pinning her to the mat. There was no need. There was no strength left in the goth to fight. Jet straddled Trixie’s face and lowered her crotch onto her former love’s face, pushing all her weight down to smother her. The last sounds Trixie heard as she was smothered out was Jet beginning to slightly moan as she ground herself into Trixie’s face.
...
The darkness gave way to an old man in a white coat holding a small flashlight, aimed straight into Trixie’s eyes.
“There we are,” he said in a sweet voice. “Back with us.” He glanced over his shoulder, where Trixie saw an obviously annoyed Bethany. “No concussion, just a bit dazed.” The EMT looked back to Trixie. “You’re a little bitty thing, but you sure can take some hits. A lotta folks twice your size would be on a gurney.
“Yes, yes,” Bethany droned on. “Let’s all pretend being the human punching bag that can take extra hits is a super power that should be applauded.”
The EMT frowned but said nothing. He rose, addressing Trixie. “You should be fine. If you have any dizziness or lightheaded spells, see a doctor immediately. You might not wanna fight for a week or so.”
“Oh, she might want that,” Trixie heard Bethany mutter with a snicker.
The EMT helped Trixie off the exam table. That’s when Trixie realized she was in the high school’s nurses’ office. It was like a horrible high school nightmare, with her current boss added in for a bonus. She almost expected the familiar smell of her parents’ whiskey-soaked breath followed by realizing she was late for a test and missing her pants.
The EMT left the room, and Bethany approached Trixie, speaking in a sullen tone. “Well, on paper, you won that match.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” Trixie spat sarcastically. “I gotta say you got me. Setting me up in a match with my ex’s fucktoy just so they and the woman Jet left me for could try to put me back in a hospital bed, that’s something.” Trixie stepped up to Christian and glared up into her eyes. “I didn’t want to win over a hurt opponent, so you drag out the person who betrayed me the worst and tried to paralyze me for life so she can get another shot at it. I’m sure, to you, that’s about even.”
To Trixie’s surprise, Bethany said nothing. She just stared back, stone-faced.
“So who’s my next opponent, Bethany?” Decker demanded. “My childhood neighbor who tried to lure me into his house with candy? Perhaps the car that ran over my pet dog when I was six.” Still, Bethany didn’t reply. Trixie shook her head then noticed her back in the room’s corner.
“I gathered your things for you,” Christian said. “I assumed you’d want to go home immediately and get some rest before your next match tomorrow.”
Trixie moved towards the bag. That’s when the pain started. Jet and Chardonnay had worked her ribs over. It was a low pain, nothing she couldn’t work through, but it would make the next fight a bit harder.
As Trixie picked up her bags, Bethany asked, “Don’t you want to know who you’re fighting?”
“If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me,” Trixie replied as she slung her back over her shoulder and unzipped it. “The fact you didn’t tells me there’s no fun for it in you if I know before I get to the ring.” She pulled out her phone and looked up at Bethany. “If you want, though, I’ll pretend to beg to know and act like it’s destroying me inside that you won’t tell. That’s what you want, right?”
Bethany flushed with annoyance. It wasn’t Trixie’s attitude that angered her. It was the mere fact she was right. The CEO straightened up. “The car’s outside waiting to take us to the airport. I’ll join you momentarily.”
“Oh, I get flown back?” Trixie said sarcastically.
“Well, you weren’t going to originally,” Bethany admitted. “I’d planned on giving you a rental car and making you drive home before I told you where to go for the next match, but considering the complete thrashing you just took, it might look bad if you died en route going home because of a FAWN required function.”
“You’ve sure got a heart,” Trixie muttered as she unlocked her phone. “Let me know if you want help installing it. Glancing at her phone’s screen, Trixie saw a litany of missed calls and text notifications. All from Kanako.
Trixie’s heart sank as she slunk out of the nurses’ office towards the front of the school. She didn’t even notice Bethany storm off in the direction of the make-shift office of FAP’s promoter.
ARGUS CROWLEY:
Argus looked up from the short, short stack of money before him towards the door. “Occupied!”
The bathroom stall’s door vibrated again with merciless pounding.
“I’m takin’ a shi--
The door flew inward as an unseen boot broke the lock. Standing before the fat, middle-aged man was the seething fury of a statuesque beauty known as Bethany Christian, eyes burning with hate and perfect lips pulled back in a sneer. Her tight blouse really accentuated her heaving chest.
He’d probably have a rock-hard erection if his dick hadn’t retreated into his pelvis out of fear.
Bethany grabbed the meatball by his popped collar and ripped him from the stalls, spilling his box office profits and count notes onto the bathroom floor. She hurled him across the boys’ bathroom into the counter of sinks. Argus banged his head on a mirror, causing it to dislodge from the wall. He barely caught it before it fell to the floor and shattered.
“Heh, that was close,” he laughed nervously at Bethany. “Almost had seven years’ bad luck.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Christian growled. “You won’t live to see them.”
The bald man gently put the mirror back and tried to walk away from Bethany only to be grabbed and slammed against the wall. “I know you’re mad,” he began.
“No, Crowley,” Bethany corrected. “I am righteously enraged at your stupidity.”
“I made a mistake,” Argus begged.
“Which fatal mistake are you speaking of?” asked Christian. “The one where you expressly ignored me when I told you Jet and that two-dollar special were not to be present at your show while Trixie was here? The one where you failed to tell me the drugged-out giantess was their chew-toy and works for them?” Bethany pulled her first back, ready to cave the sweating man’s face in. “You the mistake you made by being a live birth?”
Argus’ eyes were filling with tears now. “I thought it would amp up the drama!”
Bethany’s first slammed into the plaster of the wall next to the whimpering slob’s left ear. “So would your funeral. I do not appreciate it when people I have given trust and money to go into business for themselves.” Bethany yanked Argus forward, and he felt her hot breath in his face. “Decker is FAWN property. Property your morning shift stripper and her trick have tried to cripple in the past. I can’t make money off of property that’s damaged beyond repair.” Bethany left off the part where she’d actually had future plans to harass Trixie with Jet in a situation Bethany intended to completely control. He didn’t need those details and Argus had proven how untrustworthy he was.
“You’re right, Bet-- Ms. Christian! I’m slime! I’m trash,” Argus wailed. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, giving me seed money for this outfit, loaning me Decker free of charge. I screwed up! I swear it won’t happen again.”
Bethany studied Argus’ face. The fear and tears were real, but the words were lies. Bethany knew a liar when she saw one. He’d louse up her plans again the first chance he got if he thought he could wring a dollar from it. But there was nothing more she could do now. No beating on this trash pile of a human would undo the momentary setback or the annoyance of robbing her of control. She dropped him, and Argus crumpled at the woman’s feet.
“This is your one warning,” Bethany growled. “Remember your place. You’re a raccoon I allow to sift through my garbage. Don’t make me take care of you.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Crowley groveled. Bethany rolled her eyes and left.
After a few minutes past and Argus was sure the woman was gone, he found his phone and flipped it open. He went to text messages and typed:
“That went better than expected.”
There was an almost immediate reply from Jet.
“Oh, trust me. This is just the start.”
“They better chain your hands
Spread some evil, pick anld pan
Hey, you sure got some jets inside
But you got to live with those empty eyes.”
- The Cars, “Double Trouble”
The Home of Trixie Decker, just outside Orlando
November 7, 2019
11:14am ET
TRIXIE DECKER:
Trixie threw a t-shirt on as she ran towards the door, the sounds of her feet vanishing in the furious knocking.
“I’m coming!” she bellowed, grunting swears. She looked down at herself – a grungy t-shirt, black panties, one plaid sock. She momentarily considered more clothing but decided anyone barging into her home and interrupting her quiet time got what they got. Trixie grabbed hold of the doorknob and flung the door open. “What the fu--” She stopped herself and stared in shock.
BETHANY CHRISTIAN:
FAWN’s CEO, Bethany Christian, offered a smile so fake it might as well have been made of plastic. “Hello, Miss Decker.” The older, taller woman scanned Trixie’s sloppy attire and clucked her tongue. “Dressed to impress, I see.”
Before she could stop herself, Trixie snarked, “If I knew you were coming, I’d have put on something special for the occasion, like garlic and a crucifix.” Trixie offered back a fake smile, but in her brain, a voice was screaming, “What are you doing?! That’s your boss!” This was true. And Trixie had never really spoken to Bethany. The CEO wasn’t there when Trixie signed the contracts to join FAWN and what few interactions they’d had since was merely a nod or stare in passing in the halls.
After an uncomfortable beat, Trixie cleared her throat and spoke. “Would you like to come in?”
It was like summoning a demon, Bethany shoved her way in so quickly. The older ring vet-turned-fed head looked around Trixie’s condo. It was large, being a third of a floor of a long-dead factory converted to homes, but was sparsely decorated. A few pictures, a TV, an old couch that was currently home to a sleeping St. Bernard, and a tall pedestal where a macaw angrily glared at both of them from.
Bethany clapped her hands with phony enthusiasm and looked about. “So this is how the other half lives.” Her gaze returned to Trixie, and she added, “Quaint.”
“Can I offer you a drink?” Trixie asked as she headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got water, some beers, juice. There’s a park nearby if you’d prefer the blood of an innocent child.”
“Oh, no, thank you, I can’t stay long,” Bethany replied. “In fact, neither can you.”
Trixie’s head whipped around to stare at her boss. “Did you come here to fire me?!”
Bethany looked uncharacteristically shocked for a moment. “Oh! Oh, no! I guess the wording was confusing. What I meant to say was you need to grab your ring gear and come with me. You have a match tonight.” Decker tilted her head, confused. “Did I forget there’s a pay-per-view?”
“Oh, no, goodness no,” Bethany laughed. “There’s no FAWN show tonight. You have a match across the state in a city called Crestview. We’re taking FAWN’s private plane so we can have a little chat.”
Trixie felt uncomfortable suddenly. “I’m confused. Why am I wrestling for some other fed across the state?”
“It’s very simple,” Bethany said sweetly. “Your contract stipulates you can be required to represent FAWN in various ways, such as USO tours, public appearances, and even sent to wrestle for other promotions to help foster relationships with those entities. A smaller promotion alerted me they were in desperate need of talent to face an up-and-comer that they’re also hoping FAWN will take an interest in once she’s got more experience under her belt. And I decided you’d be that talent.” Bethany punctuated the “you” by poking Trixie in the nose.
Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s it?”
“Well, there is one more reason,” Bethany said sweetly. “If you don’t do it, I’ll fire you for violating your contract.” She clapped like summoning the help. “Now, let’s get that gear and head out, shall we? I’ve been meaning to have some quality girl talk with you for a while.
Inside the private plane owned by FAWN, on a small private runway 30 miles outside of Orlando
12:45pm ET
Trixie had heard of this plane but never seen the outside of it, much less the inside. Now, she sat in what amounted to a posh couch opposite her boss, Bethany Christian, looking at an array of sushi and champagne.
“A light lunch for the flight,” Bethany said, waving at the food. “Please, help yourself. It’s really the best sushi in the southeast.
Trixie was not really all that familiar with sushi, having had it maybe three times in her life, but looked for something familiar. She saw maki with familiar orange-ish contents she recognized as oshinko, a Japanese pickle, and took her chopsticks and set to work. “This looks lovely,” she told Bethany. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Miss Decker,” Christian cooed. “Did you make arrangements for someone to tend to your beasts?”
Trixie nodded as she chewed an oshinko roll. “Kelli will feed them and walk Antonio for me. She loves dogs. I didn’t know you cared about the well being of animals.”
Bethany sipped champagne and grinned. “I don’t. That’s why I’m the perfect person to lord over wrestlers. I know animals should be kept in their place.”
Trixie felt her stomach sink even though she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here it comes, she thought to herself.
The plane lurched forward on the runway, and Bethany looked out the window, drinking from her champagne flute. “Tell me, Miss Decker. Why did you hesitate in your match with Kanako?”
This caught Trixie by surprise, even though she knew what Bethany meant. Just a couple of months before, Trixie faced Kanako Akiyama in a brutal match where the winner was guaranteed a shot at the Lightweight Title. After flirting and fighting, Kanako injured herself. Trixie, not wanting to win this way, initially faltered at climbing the ladder to beat Akiyama. But she knew if she didn’t, there’s be repercussions for both of them.
It would seem, now, there would be just repercussions for Trixie.
“It was disrespectful to win over someone like that,” Trixie said, swallowing a mouthful of spicy tuna. “Kanako deserved better.”
“Is that really the reason?” Bethany asked, the annoyance she’d been hiding slowly appearing. “It’s not because you wanted her affections? You two are dating now, are you not?”
Grimacing, Trixie nodded. “Yes, we are. But that had nothing to do with it.”
“Or perhaps you just wanted to waste everyone’s time,” Christian growled, swirling her drink in its glass. “After a little looking, I found something interesting – your old LiveJournal from early in your wrestling career. You once referred to a wrestling belt as a ‘collar feds choke and drag you around with, like a dog.’” The look Bethany shot Trixie could have killed. “If that’s your opinion, then why even have the match in the first place?”
“Because I was told to,” Trixie replied, pulling more rolls towards her. “If I’d said, ‘No, I don’t want to have that title shot qualifying match,’ would you be any less angry at me?”
Bethany weighed this. The truth is, she’d probably be angrier, but she refused to let Decker know this.
“Is this why I haven’t had my match with Estrina yet?” Trixie asked. “Because you didn’t like how my match with Kanako ended?”
“It’s one of a few reasons,” Christian said as she gulped her glass’s contents before refilling it. “I suppose, to some, your respect towards Kanako and her injury would be respectable. You showed honor and care for an opponent.” She gave the younger goth a sickly sweet smile. “But to me, it’s just annoying.”
“And annoying you is, of course, a punishable offense,” the Jinx said as she pushed her meal around on her plate.
“Practically capital punishment,” Bethany assured. “So, I decided to spend some time thinking about how to correct your behavior so that it never happens again.”
“I suppose writing a heartfelt essay about why I’ll never do it again is out of the question,” Trixie joked. Bethany didn’t laugh.
“You’ll face Estrina in January’s pay-per-view,” Bethany stated flatly. “Until then, you are going to be a very, very busy girl. See, FAWN gets requests all the time from other promotions to borrow or rent talent for their shows. Usually, this gets ignored, or we send talent not currently in use but still under contract – the stars of years ago, if you will. But until the January pay-per-view, those promotions are in luck. They’ll be getting a current FAWN talent with fan recognition. Not top tier, of course, but in the running for a belt.”
And there’s the rub, Trixie thought to herself. “How many of these requests do you get on average?”
The devilish glee burned bright in Christian’s eyes. “Oh, goodness, too many to realistically send you to all of them, but we’ll certainly try. We’ll keep it in North America – sending you overseas opens up the situations to variables beyond my control, and that’s not acceptable. But if a podunk, backwoods promotion that only does shows in the parking lot of an abandoned Pizza Hut calls and you’re dance card is empty for that day, you better get packing.”
Trixie sighed. “Okay. So I’ll just be doing a match a day until January’s show.”
“Oh, no,” Christian chided with a dismissive wave. “You’re still FAWN proper-- talent, and that would surely end in injury. I don’t want you crippled, after all. We don’t make money off a wrestler who’s paralyzed.” She raised the glass to her lips and smiled. “But I wouldn’t plan any long weekend getaways with your sweetie.”
Decker only nodded. There was really little else she could do besides accept her fate and attempt to eat the food in front of her, although she suddenly felt less hungry.
“I know it seems harsh – perhaps even unfair,” Bethany said in a motherly tone, “but it will build character and, more importantly, you’ll learn a very important lesson.” The older woman once again filled her glass and held it up as a toast. “And that lesson is, simply, don’t ever piss me off again.”
A Local Gym’s Locker Room in Crestview, Florida
7:21 PM
From the locker room, Trixie watched the action in the ring. Two young men were tossing each other around, doing basic grapples. They were obviously rookies but had a lot of hope. A hard tap jabbed into Trixie’s right shoulder. She closed the door and turned to face Bethany.
“What now?” Trixie said, expecting more gloating or threats. Bethany, however, was matter-of-fact.
“Just a few things,” FAWN’s CEO began. “You’re not wrestling in FAWN now.”
“No,” Trixie said with a snicker. “I’m wrestling in Florida All-Pro! FAP! They’ve got a firm grip on wrestling!”
Bethany cupped her forehead and massaged her temple. “Yes, the name is exceptionally unfortunate, but that’s not what I wanted to speak to you about. You are still bound by FAWN’s contracts. This includes all consent forms. All of them.”
Trixie blinked as her mind raced back to joining FAWN and the mountain of paperwork involved. Amongst the pages and pages were releases, image rights, and consent forms. Those forms explained the more adult nature of FAWN matches. This includes assurances and evidence of being over 18 for the 18 U.S. Code 2257. It gave Trixie the option to consent to the sexually explicit content of the matches or find a place more family-friendly.
“Oh, so you’re saying this match could get touchy?” Trixie replied.
“I wasn’t sure,” Bethany said, looking around, “but I’ve spoken to both the promoter and your opponent about it. They seemed very interested in doing things the FAWN way. I got it in writing to protect us both.”
“That’s great and all,” Trixie interrupted, “but who exactly is my opponent?”
The question elicited a Cheshire cat smile from Christian. “You wouldn’t know her. She’s a rookie. In fact, you’re probably her third or fourth professional match. Just know, what she lacks in experience, she makes up for in altitude.”
Trixie did not like the sound of this.
A crew member peeked into the locker room. “Ms. Decker? Your match is next. You’ll be coming out first per Ms. Christian’s request.”
Trixie slowly looked back at Bethany.
“Obviously, the bigger name would normally get the second entrance for the bigger fan reaction,” her boss said, “but I really wanted to keep this all a surprise for you.”
The goth wrestler snorted. “You just know how to show a girl a good time.”
“I do so try,” Bethany said as she turned and walked away. “Have a good match, Trixie. Try for a win. Don’t expect it, but try.”
All alone, Trixie returned to her locker and opened it. She looked at her phone and saw a message waiting. She unlocked it and read the text:
Apparently, FAP livestreams their shows on Facebook. I’ll be watching and rooting for you. XOXO
Trixie smiled. A text from Kanako could turn her whole day around. She turned off her phone and put it back into the locker, locking it tight. Just as Trixie did, she heard the ring announcer over the speaker system. She immediately moved to the door and prepared to enter the gym.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is a standard bout with a fifteen-minute time limit. First, hailing from Flint, Michigan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred seventeen pounds – love her or hate her she’s a star of FAWN… TRIXIE ‘JINX’ DECKER!”
Trixie threw the door open and stomped through a makeshift curtained entrance. Strobe lights went off as Trixie’s entrance music as she raised her arms to the fans.
“NEVER WANTED TO DANCE” BY MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE:
There were, at best, eighty people in the gym, but they were excited and cheered to the best of their ability. Trixie ran to the bleaches, running up the rickety wooden structure to slap hands and great fans. She still wasn’t used to being a fan favorite, but here it seemed more tolerable, possibly because of the smaller crowds. Going into the bleachers gave her a chance to size up the audience – zealous, engaged, and, most importantly, all adults from what she could see.
The last thing she needed was a charge for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
The eventually stomped down the bleachers and to the rings. No chairs around the ring and no fans on the other side of the gym. The lights were completely off, and a few spotlights lit the squared circle up.
That’s when Trixie noticed the music and paused. The song they were playing for her wasn’t her ring song. Well, not anymore. It was the very first entrance song she ever used after making the jump from session to indie wrestler, to eventually be traded for other MSI songs. Upon joining the “big leagues,” it was strongly “suggested” she change her music to “Get Jinxed!” Weird.
The Jinx slid under the bottom rope before climbing the turnbuckles to blow kisses to the fans. Again, this served a purpose beyond building excitement from the fans. She bounced and tested the ropes and turnbuckles. The ropes seemed tightened and ready but looked frayed and old. The turnbuckle covers were covered in rips and tape and definitely needed the padding inside replaced. The ring, on the whole, looked ready to implode.
Trixie’s music died, and she hopped down and approached the ref, a portly thirty-something man in thick glasses, to be checked. “Hey, there’s no kids here, right?”
The ref patted Trixie down and shook his head. “Not tonight. When it was announced you’d be on the card, anyone with a kid was turned away and got a refund.”
The assurance Trixie hoped for fell flat. She was still glad there’s be no stripping, or worse, in front of innocent eyes, but something about all of this felt like a set-up and something worse than Bethany’s petty motivations. There was, of course, nothing she could do about it, and she moved to the corner as the ring announcer held up the mic to his lips.
“Her opponent this evening, hailing from Tupelo, Mississippi and standing at six feet, one inch and one hundred forty-one pounds--”
Trixie suddenly understood what “altitude” meant.
“She’s the flavor of evil… she is SINNAMON!”
SINNAMON:
"BAD GIRLS" BY M.I.A.:
A chill ran down Trixie’s spine as the song of her opponent began playing. She hadn’t heard that song since about six months before joining FAWN in mid-2013. It was her song.
Correction, it was their song.
Specifically, it was the song her ex-fiancé and former tag partner, Jet Laine, had chosen for them to replace the song Trixie had preferred, “Revenge” by Mindless Self Indulgence – she really had a thing for the band for a while. She hadn’t heard “Bad Girls” since the last match she’d had fighting side-by-side with Jet.
Trixie had spent a long time trying to forget that match, that betrayal, and the injuries that nearly ended her career.
She looked up to the entrance and saw a tall, muscular woman with a young face step out from behind the curtain. The fans immediately jeered her, throwing food and beer cups at her. But this Sinnamon paid them no mind. She just stared at Trixie from behind stringy blonde hair covering her face. She wore a vintage bikini top, red with white polka dots, ripped baggy jeans, and Converse hi-tops covered in scribbles and stains. Sinnamon stumbled and jerked towards the ring like it was the first time she’d ever worn her body. Trixie tried to mentally parse out what drugs this burn-out could be on as the rookie pulled herself up the skirt of the ring and steps in between the top and middle ropes, never once looking away from Jinx. From behind blonde hair peered cold eyes, freckles, and a weird smile that almost screamed, “I know where there are a lot of dead bodies because I left them there.”
The announcer quickly rolled from the ring as Sinnamon stumbled towards Trixie, giving a low giggle. The ref tried to check her, but the tall woman palmed his face and shoved him away. The woman loomed over Trixie, and she finally got a good look at the rookie. She was broad and muscular, with a tattoo sleeve on her left arm of what appeared to be three lesbian devils pleasing each other. She also looked ready to spill out of her top. And Sinnamon was more than a name. She smelled of cinnamon. Cinnamon and clove cigarettes and cheap vodka and sex sweat.
Sinnamon licked her chapped lips. “I heard you taste good,” she grunted.
Trixie forced a grin. “I’m really glad those positive TripAdvisor reviews of my crotch are getting so many views.”
Sinnamon seemed confused by this. Trixie wasn’t sure if it was the joke or the use of multiple syllables that flew over the giantess’s head, but pursuing it seemed pointless.
The referee forced his way back between them. “Okay, to your corners. Let’s keep this clean.” His words were obviously aimed at Sinnamon, who only smiled stupidly. Trixie took a few steps backward before turning and going to her corner to stretch. Instantly she felt the mat shake as heavy footsteps ran towards her. Decker ducked as a fist flew through the space her head once was. Still squatting, Trixie rolled backward between Sinnamon’s parted legs, kicking her own feet up straight into the Amazon’s most sensitive spot.
Sinnamon howled as she stumbled to the side, falling into the ropes. “Ref, she’s cheating!” the taller woman yelped.
“You attacked her before the bell rang and with a closed fist,” the official answered with a shrug. “Like… I guess it evens out?” He motioned to the timekeeper who hit the bell to start the match.
Trixie tumbled backward before flipping to her feet. Trixie struck a leg out, kicking Sinnamon’s feet from beneath her. The tall woman landed flat on her ass just in time for another kick, this time across the jaw. The rookie was immediately stunned.
“Oh, come on, Decker,” the referee boomed. “She’s in the ropes!”
Trixie places a hand on her chest as she looked at the zebra. “And in our hearts, like Jesus,” she said wistfully.
The referee shook his head for a minute. “Wait, what? That doesn’t make sense!” But it distracted him long enough for Trixie to drop an elbow square into Sinnamon’s crown. The referee began a count, but Trixie didn’t care to press her luck. Instead, she grabbed the big crybaby’s ankles and yanked her from the ropes. Trixie was immediately struck by how heavy Sinnamon felt. Sure, she was way taller than Trixie but only twenty-plus pounds heavier.
She dragged the rookie to the center of the ring before rolling Sinnamon onto her stomach. She crossed Sinnamon’s calves before pulling them up and sitting on them. Then, Trixie reached down and laced her hands under the newbie’s chin for a hard double-toed leglock/chinlock combo. Just as Trixie suspected, Sinnamon – despite her size and attempts at menace – was a baby about pain and screamed in agony. The Jinx cranked the chinlock back further in hopes of ending the match early with a submission.
Alas, this was not to be. The problem with this hold was it left Sinnamon’s hands free. Sinnamon’s left hand reached up and grabbed Trixie’s, wrenching the fingers backwards as far as they’d go and then a little more. The shock and pain forced Trixie to release the chinlock and distracted her long enough for Sinnamon to pull her legs free. The taller woman released Trixie’s hand and rolled back onto her back before planting a pair of huge Converse right into Trixie’s breasts. The larger woman’s legs were so strong that Decker shot back almost to the ropes before landing on her back.
Trixie pushed herself up but was met by a devastating kick to the ribs. She rolled onto her side from the force, letting Sinnamon slam another kick between her shoulder blades. Shots of color and light exploded in front of Trixie’s eyes. Sinnamon didn’t have skill, but she had brute force in spades. Trixie had to accept there was no question – this giant was stronger than her. Trixie had to be smarter.
Sinnamon hauled Trixie up and threw her over her shoulder in a backbreaker. It was a clumsy one – Sinnamon didn’t bother with trying to secure her prey, but Trixie was so stunned there was little she could do. The blonde stomped over to the corner and hoisted Trixie in the air, flipping her and dropping her stomach first onto the ring post, keeping her head pointed inward to the ring. The metal post drove mercilessly into Trixie’s gut. Sinnamon grabbed a handful of Trixie’s raven hair and ripped her forward. The uneven surface of the top of the post scratched Trixie all the way down to her nethers as the hateful rookie pulled. Sinnamon stopped when Trixie’s feet hit the top of the cables and released her hairpull, letting Trixie swing down, face-first, into the bottom turnbuckle. As luck would have it, the turnbuckle’s pad had no padding – but did have a gaping hole that let Trixie’s forehead slam into the buckle itself.
This pain would have been enough for Trixie, but Sinnamon wanted more. Lacing her fingers together and raising her joined fists above her head, bringing down an axe-handle between Trixie’s legs. She raised them again and once more punished Trixie’s crotch, yelling the whole time.
“I’m gonna pound your gash so bad your bitch isn’t gonna be able to fit her pinky in because of the swelling!” Sinn shrieked. The axe-handle gave way to just a rain of fists as the amazon worked herself up into a frothing rage. “You think you’re smart?! You think you’re better than me because you’re in FAWN?! You’re trash! You’re puny trash, and I know how to please--” Sinnamon paused the pounding and looked at the referee, who had three fingers up, then four. “Why are you counting?” she asked him.
“Because you are about to get disqualified if you don’t get her out of the corner,” he barked.
“Really?” Sinnamon turned to face him, completely confused. “There’s a time limit?”
“Yes!” the zebra boomed. “Of course there is!” He read her face and turned pale. “Oh, hell. You’re really surprised by this. You really didn’t know?!”
Sinnamon suddenly felt self-conscious, like a child called out for not doing her book report. “How am I supposed to know stuff like that?”
The official sputtered, “Because you cover this in the basics when you were trained! Who the hell trained you?”
Sinnamon’s embarrassment gave way to glee. “As a matter of fact, it was--” She turned to Trixie to gloat but stopped. Trixie wasn’t in the corner anymore.
Sinnamon panicked, looking around her and back into the corner as if she had just overlooked a whole living person who might be tucked under a turnbuckle. She looked outside the ring but saw no one, just shadowy corners of the gym.
Her confusion was answered as she felt one hundred seventeen pounds of pissed off goth slam into her back, driving Sinnamon into the turnbuckles, then planting feet into her back for a lungblower.
LUNGBLOWER:
It wasn’t a perfect lungblower by any stretch. Lungblowers weren’t exactly Trixie’s specialty, and a ring veteran of Sinnamon’s size over Trixie’s might have taken the hit and stayed mostly upright, but Sinnamon was obviously untrained and a pain wimp. She shrieked like Trixie slammed golf cleats into her back before toppling backward. Trixie slammed against the mat but propelled the blonde up and forward into the corner with her legs.
By some miracle, the tall wrestler caught herself before slamming into the turnbuckles. Not wanting to give Trixie any more free shots on her, Sinnamon dropped to her knees and scurried out of the ring like a rat abandoning a sinking ship. The fans made sure she knew they thought this was a cheap tactic and began chanting, “CO-WARD! CO-WARD!” A typical rookie with a short fuse, Sinnamon forgot the pain and Trixie and moved to the front of the ring to scream obscenities at the fans, demanding their respect. And, of course, this had the exact opposite effect.
But while the tall blonde lost her temper on the unwashed mass, Trixie sized her up from the ring. Bounding off the far cables behind the enraged woman, Trixie propelled herself across the ring into a slide under the bottom rope, catching Sinnamon from behind for a perfect sliding DDT.
SLIDING DDT (AT 0:40):
Sinnamon’s head thudded off the gym’s polished floor, and she immediately flopped onto her side, clutching her forehead. Trixie debated making a joke about hollow sounds but, considering the vacancy of the audience, the material would be lost. When Sinnamon rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to all fours, the goth stepped to her side, kicked her right leg up, and caught her own ankle. She pulled her leg as high as it would go only to release, bringing her heel down where Sinnamon’s neck and skull base meet. The rookie let out a sad “oof” before falling flat to the gym floor. It was a brutal, and possibly shady, tactic but Trixie knew she couldn’t face this brute in a “fair” fight. Even with her superior skill, all it took was getting into Sinnamon’s hands once, and she’d be torn to shreds.
Leaving the hot mess to sob on the floor, Trixie rolled back into the ring where the referee’s count was on three. She threw a few friendly finger guns before climbing the nearest ring post, aiming herself at Sinnamon, and launching into a double foot stomp into the woman’s back.
The audience recoiled in horror as the smaller goth crashed down onto Sinnamon, who let out a howl like a wounded animal. Obvious tears welled up in the blonde’s eyes, and Trixie suddenly felt a sting of guilt. It was time to end this nonsense. If it continued, she’d look like the monstrous bully who tortured an innocent newbie, and she only just got FAWNatics to stop screaming at her for stripping Bunny Cooper years ago.
Trixie pulled Sinnamon to her feet by her long hair. Without thinking, Trixie did a double-take of disgust – Sinnamon’s hair was oily and gritty, like she didn’t shower enough. She didn’t have time to think on it long, though, as agony exploded into Trixie’s belly.
As Decker dropped to her knees and gasped, Sinnamon loomed over her, face red and hateful tears streaming down her cheeks. The fist that slammed into Trixie’s belly cocked back, and the blonde pulled Trixie back up by her hair. Another thunderous belt slammed into Trixie, and her vision momentarily blurred. It was a strength she wasn’t used to, like a pro boxer going after her. Another hit and Trixie crumpled, only somewhat on her feet because of Sinnamon’s hairpull.
The larger woman heaved Trixie over her head in a gorilla press before hurling her into the ring. Trixie’s leg caught the middle rope, and her flight was cut short with a face plant. Sinnamon followed Trixie into the ring, stepping between the top and bottom rope and dropping a large foot onto Trixie’s right hand. She ground her foot into it, enjoying the feeling and the look of pain on Trixie’s face.
“You’re nothing but a little bitch,” Sinnamon hissed as she yanked Trixie up. She looked the FAWN wrestler in the eyes and smiled. “And there’s only one thing to do with a bitch.” A lightning-fast backhand spiraled Trixie to the ring’s center.
Trixie attempted to scramble to her feet, and Sinnamon was all too happy to help. She yanked the smaller brunette up and into a bearhug, lifting Trixie so they’d be eye to eye. As the vice-like grip tightened, all Trixie could see was the hateful smirk on Sinnamon’s face. Trixie flailed and pried, but she was locked in tight.
“I’m going to break you,” Sinnamon growled. “Then I’m going to play with you.” She let out a high pitched maniacal giggle before dropping Trixie’s crotch on an outstretched knee. Trixie yelped as Sinnamon pulled her back up into a proper bearhug, lifting Decker almost over her shoulder as she squeezed.
The referee checked for a submission, but as Trixie opened her mouth to say, “No,” Sinnamon’s fingers dug into the trapped woman’s sides and clutched handfuls of her meat. The blonde thug twisted and yanked Trixie’s sides so hard she thought she’d rip it all off. Trixie could only shake her head “no” and gurgle inexplicable sounds at the ref.
Slam! Another belly-to-belly atomic drop with Trixie yanked back up into the bearhug. Somehow, the hold felt tighter, and the vet felt her head spin. Unless something changed, this was how the match would end – Trixie crushed unconscious by the stoned crazy woman and then no telling what else. If she was going to go out, desperate measures couldn’t hurt.
Trixie looked down at the smug woman crushing her and placed her hands on Sinnamon’s shoulders. Reeling her head back, Trixie slammed her face into Sinnamon’s for a face-to-face headbutt. She repeated the process again and again, hitting Sinn in the forehead, eye, and nose. At first, the Amazon seemed confused, but then the pain caught up. The rookie’s hold on Trixie’s waist loosened, causing the smaller woman to slip down a little mid-headbutt. The last onslaught caught Sinnamon right in the nose and caused her to break the hug instantly.
“That can’t be legal!” Sinn cried as she stumbled back. The tears were back, and they brought friends. She looked sullenly to the official. “You have to disqualify her now!”
“Headbutts are perfectly legal,” he droned.
“Oh, so I can’t hit her with a closed fist, but she can hit me with a closed face?!” Sinn demanded.
The referee gaped in confusion for a minute before mumbling, “I mean… yeah.”
While Sinnamon and the referee argued the finer points of the actual rules and logistics of open skulled attacks, Trixie stumbled to the ropes and steadied herself. Her ribs and waist were killing her, not to mention the agony between her thighs. This match had to end, and it had to end now, preferably in a manner that allowed Trixie to walk out of the gym instead of being carried.
Trixie felt the ring shake and, without looking up, she knew Sinnamon was charging her. Trixie dropped and rolled backward, hoping Sinnamon would keep going past the ropes and into the gym. No luck, sadly, as the larger woman stopped herself in time and switched direction towards Trixie. Decker knew she only had one weapon left – her big, fat mouth.
“You sure cry a lot,” Trixie said as she ducked another swing from Sinnamon. “Are you like twelve? Does your mommy know you’re fighting in a big girl show?”
“SHUT UP,” Sinnamon boomed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not crying! I will fucking kill you!”
“Veeeeeery convincing,” Trixie cooed as she dodged, barely, more hits from Sinnamon. “I get it, you’re trying to cry me into a false sense of ‘I’m the only adult in this ring’! Very clever!”
Sinnamon screamed as she threw a wild punch that missed Trixie by a mile. Decker weaved and retreated until her back hit turnbuckles, and she slid down, resting her head between the top and middle pads. The blonde cackled through her crying. “You think you’re so fucking smart?! You trapped yourse--”
The sentence wasn’t finished. Sinnamon threw a devastating punch towards Trixie’s head, but at the point of impact, Trixie wasn’t there anymore. She dropped to the mat, letting Sinnamon’s fist travel until, at the greatest force she could manage, it slammed into the metal ring post.
There isn’t really a name for what the sounds Sinnamon unleashed as she pulled back her hand and wept. It was a mix of agony and betrayal – betrayal at her first for missing, at Trixie for not taking the hit, and at the ring post for being very rudely solid. The blonde pulled the first to her chest and ran to the official, begging him to do something, although what no one would really decipher.
Trixie saw this as her last chance to act. She ran at Sinnamon, leaping onto her back like a spider monkey. She threw one leg across the back of Sinnamon’s neck and grabbed the injured fist by the wrist, cranking it back. Before the rookie knew what hit her, Trixie had her in her finisher, Jinxed.
JINXED (BLACK WIDOW):
The referee barely got to ask Sinnamon if she’d submit before she begged him to pry Trixie off. “YES!” the tall woman howled. “I SUBMIT! HELP ME!”
The referee motioned the timekeeper and commanded Trixie to dismount. Despite all her desires to break Sinnamon’s arm and put her out of wrestling’s misery, Trixie released and leaped off.
From the timekeeper’s table, the announcer took the mic. “Laaaaaadies and gentlemen, your winner by disqualification… TRIXIE DECKER!”
Trixie raised her hands to the fans, all of whom rose to show their pleasure at her defeating the rookie brat. Behind her, Trixie felt the mat pound. She turned to see Sinnamon, now in full breakdown, punching the mat.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” the large woman bellowed, wiping tears. “I was supposed to beat you! I was told to make you beg, and now I’m going to be in trouble!”
Decker cocked her head. “In trouble with who?”
That’s when the clang sounded, and Trixie found herself face-first down against the mat. A boot dug into her side, kicking Trixie onto her back. Looking up into the spotlights, Trixie saw the forms of two shapely women – one with short-cropped hair and holding a folding chair, the other with long locks and implants for days.
“With us, slut,” said an all-too-familiar voice.
God damn it, no,” Trixie thought.
JET LAINE:
CHARDONNAY:
Trixie’s ex-fiancé, Jet, leaned down while driving the top edge of the folding chair into Trixie’s throat. She leaned on it to keep it where it was. “Miss me, Trix Bunny?” Hearing Jet’s old pet name for her would have made Trixie’s skin crawl on the best of days, but this was worse. “I bet the nights are long and you’ve been missing my good loving. I’ve heard you been slutting it up since I got bored of you.”
“Oh, no, baby,” Chardonnay purred as she nuzzled up to her girlfriend. “She’s got a girlfriend now. An itty-bitty thing. They met in a match, and Trixie didn’t want to beat her cuz Kanako was injured.” Chardonnay placed a hand on her chest and sighed cartoonishly. “So chivalrous. So romantic.”
“Still so fucking stupid!” Jet laughed as she raised the chair and drove it into Trixie’s temple.
“Just a damn minute!” the referee yelled as he stepped forward to intervene. Before he could, Sinnamon set upon him, dragging him away and hurling him from the squared circle. She turned to smile at Jet and Chardonnay as if to ask, “I did good?” but their scowls said it all.
Chardonnay snapped and pointed to the mat. “Sit, Puppy. Puppies don’t stand until they earn the right to stand.” Sinnamon breathed in deep and dropped to her knees, placing her hands in her lap.
Jet placed a boot on Trixie’s throat. “I guess we didn’t condition you enough to take a beating. We’ll be working on that.”
“Oh, nooooo,” Chardonnay said soothingly to Jet. “We shouldn’t take the blame and deny Puppy the honor of it.” She glared back at the humiliated woman kneeling. “We’re going to work on you, Puppy. You’re going to learn new tricks, or we’re going to have to rehome you. Understand?”
Sinnamon looked down sadly and nodded. “Woof,” she whimpered.
Jet smiled then reached down and pulled up a handful of Trixie’s mop. “Up, Puppy.” Sinnamon hopped to her feet and caught Decker when her mistress shoved the woman to her. “Since you were bad you don’t get to play, but you do get to hold her while we play. Isn’t that fun?”
The tall woman giddily nodded her head. “Bark!”
Jet cocked an eyebrow and looked at Chardonnay, who shrugged. “I told her she used up all her human words for the month.” She looks back at the tall pet. “Sleeper hold.”
Trixie felt an arm slide under her jaw and a hand palm the back of her head, lightly squeezing. When she wriggled the hold tightened. That’s when Jet drove the edge of the chair into Trixie’s ribs.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Chardonnay sang as she ripped Trixie’s net shirt off. She reached behind Decker and unclasped her top, spilling her b-cups out for all to see. The Barbie Doll stand-in clucked her tongue and looked back to her girlfriend. “How could you leave all that bounty behind?” she asked sarcastically.
Jet shrugged. “I had low self-esteem. I didn’t know I could do better until you showed me.” She blew a kiss to Chardonnay, who grabbed it out of the air. Jet turned to where the cameras streaming the match were. “And, Kanako, I know you’ll probably see this. You can do better, too. I mean, look at this sloppy mess!” She gestured to Trixie’s heaving body, desperately trying to breathe. “Surely there’s someone strong and actually attractive at FAWN you could hook up with. But, hey, I get it. We all slum it once in a while.” Jet dropped the chair and cracked her knuckles. “But just in case you really like eating this sad cow, let me tenderize your meal for you.”
Immediately both Jet and Chardonnay began throwing punches into Trixie’s ribs and guts. It was impossible for her to fend off all – even most – of the attacks with exhaustion and Sinnamon upon her. Chardonnay took particular pleasure in punching Trixie in the breasts.
“Think of this as a favor,” the blonde laughed. “We might get ‘em to swell up to a c cup!”
Each hit took a little more energy from Trixie. Then came the hits to the jaw and cheek. It was all Trixie could do to not blackout. Her bones felt like they were melting. Suddenly, the hits stopped.
Chardonnay snapped her fingers. “Release.”
Sinnamon released the hold, and Trixie spilled into a puddle on the mat. Chardonnay and Jet smiled at each other as they pulled Trixie out, flat on her back. Jet got down on all fours and slithered up her ex’s body. The feeling of Jet’s skin, the smell of her perfume, it triggered confusing feelings of old love remembered and unbridled hate – both of which Trixie was just too battered to do anything about. Jet rubbed her tits into Trixie's, cooing into her ear, “Remember these? I bet you miss them, don’t you?” Jet grabbed Trixie’s right hand and ran her fingertips across her lips. “And these? I bet you’ve missed the kisses and pleasure they gave you. How can you not?” She leaned in to kiss Trixie, but to Jet’s surprise, Trixie turned her head.
“… no,” was all Trixie could weakly say.
Jet sneered. “Fine, I get it. You know tasting me again will just break your heart. Well, I just want you to know,” Jet continued, playing softly with Trixie’s hair, “I don’t regret any of our time together. I always cherish those memories I have of you because you were the most important stepping stone I could have used.” The smile turned wicked. “And that’s all you ever were. Someone to use and throw away when someone better came along.” Jet looked up at Chardonnay and made a kiss. “And someone better definitely came along.” She looked back at Trixie. “And just so we’re clear, all those fears you told me you had about being worthless, about not being good enough, about being less than?” She stroked Trixie’s cheek. “They’re absolutely true, and everyone knows.”
The words hurt more than Trixie expected. Even after all these years, it was like jagged glass being shoved into her heart.
Jet sat up and turned, looking back to the livestream cameras. “And, Kanako, just so we’re clear,” Jet ran a hand down her body, “when you fuck this mess, I’m what she thinks about. It’s okay to move on and find someone better.” Jet looked down at Trixie and saw the pain in her eyes. She smiled. “Trixie expects you to do it, anyway. Why disappoint her by dragging it out?”
Chardonnay dropped to the mat and grabbed Trixie’s arms, pinning her to the mat. There was no need. There was no strength left in the goth to fight. Jet straddled Trixie’s face and lowered her crotch onto her former love’s face, pushing all her weight down to smother her. The last sounds Trixie heard as she was smothered out was Jet beginning to slightly moan as she ground herself into Trixie’s face.
...
The darkness gave way to an old man in a white coat holding a small flashlight, aimed straight into Trixie’s eyes.
“There we are,” he said in a sweet voice. “Back with us.” He glanced over his shoulder, where Trixie saw an obviously annoyed Bethany. “No concussion, just a bit dazed.” The EMT looked back to Trixie. “You’re a little bitty thing, but you sure can take some hits. A lotta folks twice your size would be on a gurney.
“Yes, yes,” Bethany droned on. “Let’s all pretend being the human punching bag that can take extra hits is a super power that should be applauded.”
The EMT frowned but said nothing. He rose, addressing Trixie. “You should be fine. If you have any dizziness or lightheaded spells, see a doctor immediately. You might not wanna fight for a week or so.”
“Oh, she might want that,” Trixie heard Bethany mutter with a snicker.
The EMT helped Trixie off the exam table. That’s when Trixie realized she was in the high school’s nurses’ office. It was like a horrible high school nightmare, with her current boss added in for a bonus. She almost expected the familiar smell of her parents’ whiskey-soaked breath followed by realizing she was late for a test and missing her pants.
The EMT left the room, and Bethany approached Trixie, speaking in a sullen tone. “Well, on paper, you won that match.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” Trixie spat sarcastically. “I gotta say you got me. Setting me up in a match with my ex’s fucktoy just so they and the woman Jet left me for could try to put me back in a hospital bed, that’s something.” Trixie stepped up to Christian and glared up into her eyes. “I didn’t want to win over a hurt opponent, so you drag out the person who betrayed me the worst and tried to paralyze me for life so she can get another shot at it. I’m sure, to you, that’s about even.”
To Trixie’s surprise, Bethany said nothing. She just stared back, stone-faced.
“So who’s my next opponent, Bethany?” Decker demanded. “My childhood neighbor who tried to lure me into his house with candy? Perhaps the car that ran over my pet dog when I was six.” Still, Bethany didn’t reply. Trixie shook her head then noticed her back in the room’s corner.
“I gathered your things for you,” Christian said. “I assumed you’d want to go home immediately and get some rest before your next match tomorrow.”
Trixie moved towards the bag. That’s when the pain started. Jet and Chardonnay had worked her ribs over. It was a low pain, nothing she couldn’t work through, but it would make the next fight a bit harder.
As Trixie picked up her bags, Bethany asked, “Don’t you want to know who you’re fighting?”
“If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me,” Trixie replied as she slung her back over her shoulder and unzipped it. “The fact you didn’t tells me there’s no fun for it in you if I know before I get to the ring.” She pulled out her phone and looked up at Bethany. “If you want, though, I’ll pretend to beg to know and act like it’s destroying me inside that you won’t tell. That’s what you want, right?”
Bethany flushed with annoyance. It wasn’t Trixie’s attitude that angered her. It was the mere fact she was right. The CEO straightened up. “The car’s outside waiting to take us to the airport. I’ll join you momentarily.”
“Oh, I get flown back?” Trixie said sarcastically.
“Well, you weren’t going to originally,” Bethany admitted. “I’d planned on giving you a rental car and making you drive home before I told you where to go for the next match, but considering the complete thrashing you just took, it might look bad if you died en route going home because of a FAWN required function.”
“You’ve sure got a heart,” Trixie muttered as she unlocked her phone. “Let me know if you want help installing it. Glancing at her phone’s screen, Trixie saw a litany of missed calls and text notifications. All from Kanako.
Trixie’s heart sank as she slunk out of the nurses’ office towards the front of the school. She didn’t even notice Bethany storm off in the direction of the make-shift office of FAP’s promoter.
ARGUS CROWLEY:
Argus looked up from the short, short stack of money before him towards the door. “Occupied!”
The bathroom stall’s door vibrated again with merciless pounding.
“I’m takin’ a shi--
The door flew inward as an unseen boot broke the lock. Standing before the fat, middle-aged man was the seething fury of a statuesque beauty known as Bethany Christian, eyes burning with hate and perfect lips pulled back in a sneer. Her tight blouse really accentuated her heaving chest.
He’d probably have a rock-hard erection if his dick hadn’t retreated into his pelvis out of fear.
Bethany grabbed the meatball by his popped collar and ripped him from the stalls, spilling his box office profits and count notes onto the bathroom floor. She hurled him across the boys’ bathroom into the counter of sinks. Argus banged his head on a mirror, causing it to dislodge from the wall. He barely caught it before it fell to the floor and shattered.
“Heh, that was close,” he laughed nervously at Bethany. “Almost had seven years’ bad luck.”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Christian growled. “You won’t live to see them.”
The bald man gently put the mirror back and tried to walk away from Bethany only to be grabbed and slammed against the wall. “I know you’re mad,” he began.
“No, Crowley,” Bethany corrected. “I am righteously enraged at your stupidity.”
“I made a mistake,” Argus begged.
“Which fatal mistake are you speaking of?” asked Christian. “The one where you expressly ignored me when I told you Jet and that two-dollar special were not to be present at your show while Trixie was here? The one where you failed to tell me the drugged-out giantess was their chew-toy and works for them?” Bethany pulled her first back, ready to cave the sweating man’s face in. “You the mistake you made by being a live birth?”
Argus’ eyes were filling with tears now. “I thought it would amp up the drama!”
Bethany’s first slammed into the plaster of the wall next to the whimpering slob’s left ear. “So would your funeral. I do not appreciate it when people I have given trust and money to go into business for themselves.” Bethany yanked Argus forward, and he felt her hot breath in his face. “Decker is FAWN property. Property your morning shift stripper and her trick have tried to cripple in the past. I can’t make money off of property that’s damaged beyond repair.” Bethany left off the part where she’d actually had future plans to harass Trixie with Jet in a situation Bethany intended to completely control. He didn’t need those details and Argus had proven how untrustworthy he was.
“You’re right, Bet-- Ms. Christian! I’m slime! I’m trash,” Argus wailed. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, giving me seed money for this outfit, loaning me Decker free of charge. I screwed up! I swear it won’t happen again.”
Bethany studied Argus’ face. The fear and tears were real, but the words were lies. Bethany knew a liar when she saw one. He’d louse up her plans again the first chance he got if he thought he could wring a dollar from it. But there was nothing more she could do now. No beating on this trash pile of a human would undo the momentary setback or the annoyance of robbing her of control. She dropped him, and Argus crumpled at the woman’s feet.
“This is your one warning,” Bethany growled. “Remember your place. You’re a raccoon I allow to sift through my garbage. Don’t make me take care of you.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Crowley groveled. Bethany rolled her eyes and left.
After a few minutes past and Argus was sure the woman was gone, he found his phone and flipped it open. He went to text messages and typed:
“That went better than expected.”
There was an almost immediate reply from Jet.
“Oh, trust me. This is just the start.”