Post by hawkeye on Apr 13, 2020 1:22:00 GMT
SUMMER HOPKINS
VS.
CARLA CRASH
As the night rolled on, the FAWNatics continued to voice their high spirits, that enthusiasm just barely cooling to a simmer between hotly contested matches. It was during one such pause in the action, stage hands clearing the ring at centre field, that the lights dimmed to near darkness. An excited ripple tumbled through the suddenly becalmed masses as anticipation built irresistibly with each passing moment. Finally, inevitably, the packed arena burst back into life, the sound system erupting with…
MADE FOR THIS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIwbSq-bomk
…as the stage was bathed in much welcome illumination!!
There, as the new centre of their attention, stood the Supergirl of Sheffield, Summer Hopkins!!
SUMMER HOPKINS
Remembering all of her coaching from the deceptively patient, Susan Style, Summer popped into a jaunty, little bicep flex with one of the long stems crossed ever so slightly in front of the other, capturing everyone’s attention, including that of the Gladiatrix photographers.
While she didn’t quite possess the sheer, domineering presence of her elder sibling, Cassie, Baby Hopkins was physically sublime non the less, every inch of her a sleek and athletic in all the right places as her form fitting attire hugged her like a jealous lover, five foot seven and one hundred and twenty-eight pounds of instant heartbreak.
Heroically she fought down the desire to blush fiercely in the face of the crowds overwhelming response, the masses serenading her with cheers as they welcomed her to the FAWN family. Emboldened by their support, the wallflower turned starlet pivoted into a spiral with her arms outstretched wide, the walls of her childhood insecurities toppled over by such, overwhelming, positive reinforcement. Summer was living a dream, and she was giddy with embarrassment, bringing her hands back together in the shape of a heart, one that mirrored the cut-out silhouette in her sapphire top.
She set off down the ramp, spotlight accompanying her every step of the way, eating up the distance with long strides in no time at all. As the British Bombshell 2.0, her blonde curls bounced atop her shoulders, and as the ring swiftly approached, she arrived at it without hesitation, making up the last few yards at a sudden dash.
As she reached the apron she jumped, deftly making the distance with both of her long legs before sweeping them up and over the top rope, lifting one lithe stem up and over the uppermost coil before following up with the other, deliberately offering the hard camera a cheeky shot of her firm buttocks in the process, no doubt done so at the behest of her sponsor, especially with the words ‘YOU WISH!!’ stencilled across the young women’s firm, crimson clad cheeks in white, girlish script.
Arriving at centre ring, she popped into a second, jaunty bicep flex for the FAWNatics continued appreciation, Summer feeling heady from the experience. With a wink for the camera, she turned to the Official for the evening, asking him a question under her breath.
“How was that?” she queried, suddenly deeply concerned concerning his assessment.
He gave her the thumbs up and, with an exhale of relief, she thanked the stars above that she’d managed to nail at least one part of the evening without performing a dreaded pratfall.
Of course, now came the hard part…
FACE IN THE DARK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TLmVi8fWKU
…began to play over the loud speakers and, when the opening melody promised that the ‘lights were low’, the stadiums illumination responded in kind, bathing the arena in an ominous lull. Only when the chorus kicked in, ‘till I hear the Reaper call’ ratcheting up the tempo, did the spotlight return to the stage, the Hardcore Hellcat pushing out through the curtains with a purposeful stride and a robust rolling of her shoulders, dark eyes on the squared circle as every, lethal inch of her was a primed and libre.
CARLA CRASH
Five foot eight, one hundred and thirty pounds of patented, controlled aggression, the perpetually surely Crash made short work of the ramp leading up to the ring, the FAWNatics voicing their collective displeasure every step of the way. She cared not a jot, the former Stuntwoman long accustomed to being the ‘Invisible Women’ of Hollywood, even an arena full of displeasure could not add to the cesspool of simmering, frequently boiling resentment that already lived in the pit of her gut.
Instead, she settled on stripping them of their delusions one wannabe athlete at a time, doing so within the confines of a squared circle where, luck would have it, all of her desires were pleasantly legal.
Two at a time, she bounded up the steel steps, swiftly ducking between the top and middle ropes with little ceremony before marching from one corner to the other. She stopped one stride from her destination and, with a rotation of her wrists preceding a robust shadow boxing of her fists, she turned about sharply to march back towards centre ring.
“For f*cks sake, Hopkins,” Crash curled her lip into an exasperated sneer, looking her former, Developmental rival up and down. They had clashed before, behind the scenes at the performance centre, and rarely had it gone well for the former wallflower. “You actually turned up?” she questioned in disbelief.
Somewhat flatfooted by the display of outright disregard, Summer’s reply came as an unfortunate stammer, “I, well, yes, my name was on the…”
“Jesus, Hopkins, shut up,” Carla cut her off, squaring her shoulders in a dominant display, like a silverback scenting weakness. “I thought you might have learned something the last time I dropped you on your head. Go home.” Crash stepped forwards, delivering her next declaration with quite threat, “Last warning.”
Summer, like a deer in headlights, almost made a decision that would define the rest of her life…
…instead, steeling her resolve, the Supergirl of Sheffield squared her own shoulders, refusing to be intimidated as she stepped forwards, getting all up in Carla’s business and narrowing her own baby blues, much to the delight of the watching FAWNatics.
“Make me.”
Carla, perhaps for the first time in living memory, quirked the smallest of smirks, the duo chest to chest and almost forehead to forehead as their shared animosity was almost tangible. Crash backed off, still smirking, flexing her fingers as she hopped from one foot to the other. “Alright, casket it is.”
Summer, relieved that Crash had backed down, began to exhale slowly…
…before Carla surged right back in, the Hollywood Hooligan unleashing a wicked Haymaker towards her unprotected noggin…
…or at least, it should have been had the reflexes of Hopkins MK2 been ever so slightly slower. Instead Summer raised a protective arm to ward off the dastardly blow with a firm block before, without consciously thinking, the Brit responded with a Haymaker of her own, one delivered sweet as you like to the cheek of her Rival and connecting with righteous retribution.
With the wet CRACK echoing across the front rows, Crash’s head snapped sideways and she stumbled into a sharp spiral, riding the momentum as her ears were left ringing. Somehow, she managed to remain upright. She heard the cheers of the FAWNatics well enough, however, and it filled her with an intense need to even the score immediately.
“Well, sh*t,” she sneered, rubbing her jaw in disbelief as she turned back around to face the blonde before her, an amused growl gathering in the back of her throat. “Kitten has claws!!”
Without hesitation, Carla stormed right back into the breach, a momentarily wide-eyed Summer meeting her at centre ring as the duo of evenly matched athletes slapped together in a fiercely competitive, collar and elbow tie up. Crash, however, as the instigator of the collision, carried the advantage and immediately began powering the Supergirl of Sheffield backwards, the Brit giving ground one step at a time until her shoulders were THUMPED into the turnbuckles of her corner.
The two continued to shove against one another, grinding for leverage, but with Summer wedged into place, her predicament was growing worse by the moment.
“Feeling familiar?” Carla mocked with a vindictive glint in her eye, twisting their embrace to elicit a wince and pained cry from the ensnared Summer. “Now that defiantly sounded familiar.”
“Alright, alright!” the Official demanded, moving in to separate the pair as cleanly as possible. “I haven’t called for the bell yet, match hasn’t started!”
Crash, darkly amused, SHOVED against the trapped Hopkins one last time, if only to assert her control over her Developmental Rival, making her point before separating without further incident.
Summer, by comparison, apologised in a mildly sheepish manner, before exhaling deeply and pushing herself back out of her corner. She rolled her right shoulder and advanced, once again meeting Carla at centre ring, baby blues matching the challenging gaze of Crash’s own, dark browns.
“Feeling ruffled?” Carla baited.
Hopkins licked her lips, straightening her shoulders before crouching down, ready to engage, “Just getting started.”
“Alright,” the man in black and white, satisfied that he had resumed control, turned about and called for the bell, the loud chime bringing an official beginning to proceedings. “Go!”
“You heard the man,” Crash challenged, the Hollywood Hooligan poised and expectant, “bring it!”
Both of them advanced at the same time, much to the delight of the crowd, the two locking up in a second collar and elbow tie up to resume their contest. With a tensing of nubile flesh, the duo writhed and flexed for control of the intimate embrace until, with a cry of dismay beginning to build amongst the FAWNatics, it was Summer who was once again lost ground.
With a grunt of effort, Bombshell 2.0 was pushed back one step, then two, a third following quickly after, her sublime physique quivering as it struggled to compete with the greater power of the Hardcore Hellcat. That was until the beautiful blonde scrunched the bridge of her nose in renewed, Babyfaced dander and, with a deep breath, dug in the heels of her crimson boots and stubbornly called to a halt to her enforced retreat.
The FAWNatics remained silent as they watched on in hope and, even as Carla’s cheeks began to turn crimson with greater exertion, a growl was forced out of her throat. Ever so slowly, it was her turn to be pushed back, one step, two, a third followed and they were right back to start…
…which heralded a full-on retreat, an emboldened and spirited cry emerging from the torso of Hopkins MK2 as she POWERED the Boulevard Bytch backwards across the squared circle until it was her shoulders that were now SLAMMED into her corner. Summer, filled with glorious vindication, was positively glowing as she held her one-time bully wedged in place, proving that, for all of her swagger, she was in for a real fight tonight.
Of course, the Official just had to step in and be a party pooper.
“Alright, Summer,” he reminded the athletic Brit, much to the annoyance of the spectators who were enjoying the show. “She’s in the ropes, back up.”
“You heard the man,” Carla taunted, “be a good girl, and back up.”
Hopkins didn’t take the bait, keeping her cool as she obeyed the rules of the contest, retaining eye contact with her opponent even as she broke away from Crash. She exhaled, taking a moment to gather herself as she stepped back, emboldened by her success as she…
…received a savage punt to her gut for her troubles, Carla kicking out and all but BURYING her boot deep into the toned tummy of the blonde before her. Wide eyed and grunting, Summer was popped up onto her tip toes before coming back down onto unsteady stems, her knees threatening to give out as she heaved for fresh air and circled her protesting midriff.
Crash didn’t give her time to process, shoving out from her corner to take full advantage of her opening, pushing past the protesting Official and grabbing the gutted Hopkins by her shoulders. Pivoting, she bodily SHOVED Summer into the corner in her place, wedging her up against the turnbuckles before DRIVING her knee up into her opponents already quivering abs. Satisfied with the heady groan that the blonde produced, Carla followed up her knee strike with a second, this time rewarded with a moan that was louder than the first. A third followed soon after, and the Supergirl of Sheffield was enforced to absorb the punishment, her arms soon dangling over the back of the top ropes and leaving her wide open to the abuse.
A full bakers dozen later, and Hopkins was slumped with her buttocks perched on the middle turnbuckle, head lolling forwards as she struggled to inhale.
“Carla!” the Official warned.
“Relax, count to five if you like,” Crash brushed off his authority with her deadpan dismissal, “I’ll have her out of her predicament in less than four.” Grasping the suitably submissive Summer by her firm thighs, fingers repositioning to cup her coveted, toned buttocks, she braced her back before lifting the other young woman skywards, jostling her up to sitting on the top turnbuckle.
Satisfied with her labour, Carla stepped back to…
…get caught flat footed for her sins, Hopkins displaying her own passion as she released a cry and KICKED out with her long, athletic right stem to positively BOOT Crash across her cheek with a meaty WHACK!!
The FAWNatics responded in the positive to her resurgence and, with Summer still sat on her perch, she stood up tall on the second set of turnbuckles as the gobsmacked Carla was sent pivoting about. With Crash not quite toppling over from the unexpected blow, Hopkins braced herself before launching into the air, taking to the sky and spreading out to flatten her foe with a stunning, Cross Body Splash…
…only for Hollywood Hooligan to catch her out of the air, forced to back pedal half a pace but, ultimately, keeping her feet and securing her cargo high above the canvas, one arm circling her Rival’s shoulders, and the other wedged between her split open thighs.
Summer shook her head in denial, but there was little more that she could do to prevent Carla from dropping down sharply to one knee and SLAMMING the small of her back down across a posted and rigid thigh. Hopkins groaned as her back was arched rapidly into a curve, long legs twitching as she sucked in a pained breadth and struggled to lift her head.
Carla, still retaining her grip, pushed back up to standing and hoisted Summer up with her, keeping her cargo secured by way of Cross Body and turning about to display her trophy. Hopkins remained suspended within her grasp, albeit now a little limper, momentarily reduced to being a highly coveted possession of many a Heel residing in the Locker Room.
“I was mistaken before,” Carla grunted, inhaling again as she adjusted her grip, muscling the now submissive Summer up to rest across her strong shoulders, locking her snugly in place with a Fireman’s Carry. “Now this feels familiar.”
Picking her spot, Crash lived up to her namesake as she charged, soon diving forwards into a sault and PLANTING her Original Rival into the deck across her back, compounding her punishment by driving her shoulders, and all one hundred and thirty of her own pounds down onto Hopkins tummy and torso.
ROLLING FIREMAN’S CARRY
www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0vYzvJlk8U
As she was being crushed between a rock and hard place, the Rolling Fireman’s Carry Slam compressing her between her tormentor and the canvas, Summer’s long stems kicked up into the air as her head bucked on her shoulders, a heady grunt announcing the escaping of air from her body. She crumpled a moment later, flat on her back, one leg popped up at the knee as she slumped, a prime target for Carla to capture, hook and roll her up into a forceful pin.
ONE!
Summer shoved up a shoulder as she rolled over onto her side, shaking her head and still showing plenty of spirit.
Carla didn’t complain, instead rolling off of her opponent and sustaining her momentum, relentless as she continued to apply pressure to the wounded fawn. Rolling the British Bombshell 2.0 over, the Hardcore Hellcat bullied the blonde up to kneeling, soon jostling her back up to vertical long before the Brit was prepared to be so.
“You want another concussion, is that how it is?” Crash taunted, her manner impatient as she secured a wrist, gripping far more tightly than she had any need to. “I can give you another concussion, Fap Time Barbie, you just have to ask!”
Pivoting sharply on the spot, she prepared to launch Hopkins MK2 across the ring by way of Irish Whip only, at the time of release, Summer refused to let go! Both came to a sudden and jarring stop, a sharp pain wrenching each of their shoulders in unison, but the blonde had been ready for the experience, rolling with the pain and, for once, catching Carla flat footed.
Suddenly finding herself with a captured limb in her possession, Summer spun about on the spot, whipping one of her long, lower limbs up and around to damn near behead the Boulevard Bytch with a beautiful Leg Lariat!!
Following the WHACK!! that echoed out to the spectators in the front rows (and those watching at home), both young women tumbled quickly to the canvas, Hopkins landing with a bump on her taunt buttocks, and Carla slamming to the deck across her shoulders.
Both immediately moved to recover and, while the duo was rising at the same time, an increasingly surly Crash, cradling one shoulder in particular, was the first to be fully vertical. The FAWNatics, however, remained in full support of the Supergirl of Sheffield as they rallied behind her resurgence, willing her to remain on the front foot with a hearty cheer…
…for which they were rewarded, Summer surging forwards with Babyfaced momentum as her foe zeroed in on her position, releasing a determined shout as she launched into a Running Bicycle Knee Strike!!
RUNNING BICYCLE KNEE STRIKE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3EwyOrwQfc
Achieving impressive lift, the athletic blonde NAILED the hard joint of her knee flush against Carla’s temple, turning the other young woman’s lights out and leaving her shellshocked. Crash dropped down again, this time to her knees, her boundless frustration enabling her to swat a useless arm out in front of her before reality caught up, forcing the dazed, raven haired grappler to slump back on her haunches.
Summer, retaining her balance and feeling increasingly energised as adrenaline flooded her system, took half a step back as she prepared to further weaponize her increasingly infamous, lower limbs. Pouncing back forwards, she struck out with one of her long legs, positively CRACKING the penitent Crash across her torso with a beautiful, thunderous snap kick!! A second followed in quick succession, and then a fourth, Summer pivoting to strike out in similar fashion with her left stem to equally effective results, Carla grunting and groaning as she tried her best to curl up defensively, but quickly found she had no-where to go.
The FAWNatics swiftly warmed up to the enthusiastic barrage, the British Bombshell unleashing a veritable ordinance of decisive kicks to her foe, her tempo only seeming to grow with each blow. As they reached a crescendo of cheers, Hopkins changed tact for the finale, slightly altering her target to CRACK!! her boot flush against the reeling, Hollywood Hooligan’s half shaven scalp.
SUPERGIRL SALVO
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ij01mZpEOy0
Slumping as though her strings had been cut, Crash slumped over onto her side, whilst Summer continued to rotate on the spot almost a full one eighty from the momentum of her own strike. Momentarily all of a fluster following the swift reversal in fortunes, Summer recovered quickly enough to seize her opportunity, diving atop the shellshock Carla and roll her over onto her back. Seizing both of her rival’s legs, and rolling her up to secure victory…
ONE!
TW…
Crash shoved up a shoulder with considerable force, coming to with a shout and shoving Hopkins away as though someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water. Both rolled away, and Carla was up onto her hands and knees quickly, slamming both of her fists down on the canvas in frustration, much of that ire focused at her own sloppiness.
“Fine!” Crash snapped, the Hardcore Hellcat pushing up onto her feet and cracking her jaw, internalising her pain as she made a renewed b-line for Summer. “Heavy artillery it is!!”
Hopkins, emboldened by her recent success, showed no hesitation in meeting Carla’s advance, raising her own defences as Crash’s conditioned frame transitioned to a boxer’s stance. A rapid, right haymaker followed and, much like before, Summer deflected, the FAWNatics enrapt with the proceedings but, with her guard raised, she was unable to prevent a left uppercut from BELTING her in the side.
The blonde winced, bucking ever so slightly to the right, a short grunt escaping from her body as she left her even more wide open. Crash wasn’t going to let that go to waste, connecting with a THUMP to the opposite side of her Rival’s ribcage, encouraging Hopkins MK2 to retreat. Carla piled on the pressure, warming to her topic now, her jaw clenched as she followed with one, two, THREE stiff blows to her opponents toned, slowly yielding tummy, the pained grunts of her beloved adversary becoming deflated groans.
Soon enough, the Supergirl of Sheffield was pressed up against the ropes, her defences well and truly breached as Crash rained down a further trio of gut punches, those groans all too quickly replaced with moans. Slumped against the coils, Hopkins offered no protest as her wrist was re-secured and, following a sharp pivot and yank from Carla, the blue-eyed blonde was sent into an involuntary sprint across the canvas.
Summer dashed across the ring, covering the distance in short order before she pivoted into the opposite coils, the rubber coated steel embracing her before snapping taunt. Re-launched back across the canvas, she returned to sender quickly, Crash braced and ready to…
…EAT a jaw dropping Supergirl Punch as the British Bombshell 2.0 leapt into the air, flinging her fist down into her foes unexpecting cheek. As if the thunderous strike really had been thrown by the Last Daughter of Krypton, the Hardcore Hellcat was knocked for a loop, her head pivoting sideways as she stumbled in a stupor.
SUPERGIRL PUNCH
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mfdp8LETRks&t=80s
As the FAWNatics erupted in cheers, Carla teetered left and then right, as though she was uncertain as to which way she was supposed to be falling. Helpfully, Hopkins MK2 made the decision for her, ducking low so that she could gather the dark-haired Crash up and onto her shoulders, securing her involuntary cargo in a Fireman’s Carry.
“Just an FYI,” Summer quipped as she took two strides away from the security of the ring ropes, huffing with pained resolve, “Barbie is an icon.”
Picking her spot, the Supergirl of Sheffield began to rotate in a tight circle, taking the unwilling Carla for a ride with her, quickly picking up momentum just as the FAWNatics were lending her their support, the three sixty spirals rapidly picking up speed until she was a veritable blur of motion!!
SUPERGIRL EXPRESS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WifeCQFv_Po
Soon enough, in high spirits as they were, the crowd began counting the delightful rotations, chanting in unison as she passed ten, then fifteen, and then finally “TWENTY!!”, the beautiful, blonde Brit coming to a stop with Crash still strapped across her shoulders. She shook her head for a moment, blinking several times as she regained her bearings, until a twitch of her nose betrayed her intentions.
Instead of setting Carla down, Summer instead began rapidly rotating AGAIN, this time in the opposite direction, taking the already disorientated, Boulevard Bytch for a second ride on the Supergirl Express!! Picking up speed, the arena was perhaps even more enthused with the second Airplane Spin than they had been with the first, resuming their count as she reached ten, then fifteen, then passed twenty, reaching twenty-five, then THIRTY!!
The FAWNatics gave up after that, their accompanying chant instead becoming a sea of cheers and applause until Hopkins must inevitably come to a stop. She almost fell over when she did so, stumbling several steps to the left before changing course and stumbling several steps to the right. One last handful of drunken, dizzied strides and Summer was back to start, the British Bombshell 2.0 shaking her head and finding her centre.
As if momentarily unsure as to what she was supposed to do next, Hopkins blinked several times before setting her mind to her next task, opting to take a page out of her first ever Rival’s own playbook. “How hard can it be?” she queried no-one but herself before she dashed onwards, launching herself into a forward dive that resulted in compliant Crash leading the way, Carla’s back being PLANETED into the canvas with Summer landing atop her!
ROLLING FIREMAN’S CARRY SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZKN3221w9c
With her head well and truly scrambled and her lungs forcibly depleted of air, a groaning Crash slumped out on the mat, Hopkins MK2 diving atop of her to secure a fresh pinfall.
ONE!
TWO!!
Crash shoved up a shoulder, shaking her head in aggravation, much to the disappointment of those watching.
Pushed away, Summer leant back on her heels, taking several deep breaths as she leant forwards with her palms on her knees. Nodding a self-affirmation to herself, the blonde set herself back to business, pushing herself up onto one foot and then the other as Carla was finding her knees.
The Hollywood Hooligan was shaking her own head now that the world was slowly returning to normal, pinching the bridge of her nose before she jabbed her knuckles down hard into the mat. As the ascendant Hopkins snagged her by the shoulders, Crash chose that moment to lash out, JABBING her thumb into a baby blue peeper!!
Wounded by the viperous strike, Summer stumbled away with a YELP, clutching at her features as her eye watered heavily, stinging with an intensity that left her distracted. Folded forwards and exposed, she was in little position to protect herself as a surly Carla dragged herself back up to standing and zeroed in on her blind side, GRABBING Hopkins by her mane.
With a YANK she pulled the blinded Summer’s head back and collected one of her arms, wrapping the captured limb tightly about the blonde’s own throat before securing it in place. Cobra Clutch locked in, Crash dropped rapidly down onto one knee and whiplashed her opponent along with her, SNAPPING her into a backwards curl until her spine was WHACKED across a posted thigh.
COBRA CLUTCH BACKBREAKER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFCcCyxD_jI
Gasping with a sharp exhale, Summer’s whole body spasmed as it was forcibly curled the wrong way, her thighs losing much by the way of feeling as, relentless in her punishment, Crash bodily dragged her back up to standing. With Hopkins reeling, Carla transitioned her grip, now snapping her own arm tight about the beautiful blonde’s throat, seizing her in a Standing Sleeper which she immediately began to bore down on with considerable force.
Almost immediately, the Supergirl of Sheffield began to fade visibly, her heart beating in panic as she swayed on her already unsteady feet. She slumped, her lips parting slightly as her baby blues fluttered, her arms almost idly grasping blindly at air as Crash WRENCHED her with small movements from one side to the other, expediating the release of tension from the Brits athletic body. Defiantly, Summer tensed, some part of her knowing that she much try to escape, her right arm tugging on the flexed bicep pressed up against her slim throat, but such efforts were fruitless, the ensnared young woman already lacking the strength needed to make a difference.
“That’s it,” Crash growled into her ear, the Hardcore Hellcat deriving a great deal of satisfaction from squeezing the defiance out of her Original Rival. “Put up a struggle, you and I both know what these idiots really want to get out of you.”
Summer’s lips parted to answer, but only the lowest of moans could still escape from her sublimely sculptured body, her bosom hiking for breaths that she could not inhale. With a shimmy running down the length of her legs, Hopkins dropped down to one knee, her arms swaying limply at her thighs as her baby blues fluttered closer to shut. Crash followed her down to one knee, applying even greater pressure on the Sleeper now that her foe was close to surrender, continuing to taunt the other girl with jibes into her ear.
“They just want something to jerk off to.”
Summer, with no-where to go, released a final shudder before her shoulders definitively slumped, all starch fleeing from her body as she dangled in her adversaries’ grip. Carla was left to deliver one last, possessive wrench of her hold before the Official moved in to check on the Brit. Carla, delivering the man in black and white a hard eye, prevented him from doing so, TOSSING Hopkins aside and dropping her limp limbed physique down onto the canvas.
The FAWNatics responded with a chorus of boos, not at all liking where this was going.
The Official, as it turned out, was likewise minded.
“Come on, Carla,” he protested, “let’s not do this.”
“Relax,” Crash waved him off before getting back to work. “I’m not a sadist, I just know what I want.”
Rolling Summer over onto her back, the young woman not protesting, arms splayed out in a crucifix and legs parted wide open. Carla settled down over her, bracing both of her palms down on her opponent’s shoulders before bracing the rest of her frame as though she were about to perform a push up.
“Alright,” she gave permission, “now you can begin counting.”
Reluctantly, that was what the man in black and white did, dropping down to the canvas to hit the mat for…
ONE!
Crash performed a push up, a dominant display for the hard camera.
TWO!!
Carla performed a second, her cheek coming down to brush against that of Summers.
THRE…
The British Bombshell 2.0 THREW up her right shoulder, dislodging her unwanted rider as she rapidly inhaled a DEEP, desperate breath, surging back to life in a woozy stupor, revealing the tenacity worthy of the most Babyfaced of Factions, the Upstart Nation.
“BULLSH*T!!” Carla declared after being unceremoniously dislodged, slamming both of her fists down onto the canvas. “THAT WAS THREE!!” she insisted, surging up to her feet and getting all up on the Officials face, “THREE!”
The man in black and white would not be moved, insisting it was ‘only’ two and three quarters. “Needs to be a full three,” he reminded, “maybe shouldn’t have let her go?”
Carla, her glare narrowed, backed off from the Official with a long, steady exhale, ensuring that he felt every moment of her scathing stink eye before turning about. “Fine, I try to play nice, and this is where it gets me,” Crash complained, leaning down grabbing a hold of the still splayed out Summer’s wrist. Callously, by her arm, she began to drag the beautiful blonde behind her across the canvas, like a cavewoman dragging away her prize to her homestead.
Reaching one corner, and with Hopkins MK2 coming around with increasing lucidity with each passing moment, Carla bent down and began bullying the Brit back up to her feet. “Here we are,” Crash prompted, domineeringly shoving the dazed Summer back first into the corner, the young woman responding with mumbles and moans. “Back where we started.”
Grabbing her opponent by her responsive thighs, the Boulevard Bytch muscled the Supergirl of Sheffield up off her feet until she came down to sitting on the top turnbuckle. Summer’s eyes were back open now, and she inhaled a deep breath as Carla began climbing the turnbuckles in front of her, the duo becoming more precarious by the second.
“You want me to believe you can fly?” Crash taunted her rival, delivering a sharp rabbit punch to the girl’s temple to keep from getting any new ideas. “Let’s see you fly,” Carla threatened, slinging one of Hopkins arms up and over her shoulder, preparing to grab a hold of the other young woman’s belt…
…before Summer surged up to standing, adrenaline spiking as she powered the shocked Crash up and over onto her shoulders, securing her in a Fireman’s Carry high above the canvas. “Suit yourself,” was all the further warning that Hopkins would deliver before she leapt into the air, taking her opponent with her as she achieved impressive lift.
As they came back to earth, Summer was already popping her cargo free of her perch, the British Bombshell 2.0 coming down to land on one knee and, with all the momentum in the world behind her, DROPPED Carla down, exposed tummy first, across her posted thigh!!
AVALANCHE FIREMAN’S CARRY GUTBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz9hOKVWMh4
Gutted in almost every sense of the word, Crash both GASPED and convulsed as she bounced away from the impact, arms wrapping about her crumpled midriff as she hit the canvas stiffly and rolled over onto her back. She beat the sole of her boot down against the mat as pain wracked her penetrated gut, desperate to suck in air that her body had no interest in trying to inhale.
Unfortunately for Summer, she was in no position to take immediate advantage, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she slumped over sideways, becoming entangled in the bottom ropes, baby blues fluttering as they threatened to reclose. She forced them to stay open, she forced herself to stay awake, the young woman determined to engage in a painful race with her Rival as to who would be the first to recover.
As it happened, both proved to be equally determined to reach the other before they could recover, albeit they collided whilst the were also both still on their knees. With deep, pained filled exhales, they grappled at close quarters, searching and struggling for even an inch of advantage, the air soon filling with grunts and forceful groans.
Finally, as Crash GRABBED a fistful of blonde curls, it seemed as though a sharp yank would pull Hopkins off balance, but the one-time Wallflower refused to play along. Instead, huffing in protest, she instead twisted with the harsh tug, riding the momentum and, before Carla could snag her, rapidly pivoted up and around her Original Rival, her firm buttocks coming to sit of the Hollywood Hooligans back. Sensing her opportunity, Summer wasted not a second, the FAWNatics watching daring to believe as the blonde caught the Hardcore Hellcat in a sleek Dragon Sleeper!!
Immediately she began to reef back on the hold, pushing her coveted backside on her opponents back as she did so, both curling the woman’s spine, and constricting her throat, Carla struggling to inhale as she reached out blindly for escape. There was none forth coming, not as Hopkins further locked in her embrace, clutching both of her palms together behind her own back, crying out with supreme effort as she sunk the Dragon Sleeper in tighter!!
KRYPTONIAN CLUTCH: @0:46
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGmzxMdl5FI
Carla’s lips parted into a gurgle as her eyes fluttered to half lidded, one leg scraping out fruitlessly across the canvas as tugged just as uselessly on her foes elbow. The FAWNatics were chanting for her to tap out and, as her chest hiked in search of lost oxygen, the muscles in her back began cramping on the verge of collapse.
As the world grew dim before her, Crash was left with just one choice left to make, which was to decide which of the two fates her pride would most quickly bounce back from. Infuriated, she began to slap the palm of her hand down on the canvas, signalling to the Official her submission, refusing to pass out at the hands of Hopkins.
Needing no further prompting, the man in black and white called for the bell, naming Summer as the winner as, victoriously, the girl’s music emerged from the sound system above…
MADE FOR THIS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIwbSq-bomk
…elated by the revelation that she had won, Summer released Carla and let the Boulevard Bytch drop hard to the canvas, allowing her to start inhaling deep, greedy breaths.
The blonde, feeling giddy from the moment, half stumbled away from her embrace, smiling in sheepish fashion as she managed to catch her balance at centre ring. Exhaling a deep, sigh of relief as the crowd serenaded her with applause, the Supergirl of Sheffield ensured that she found the hard camera before popping into a jaunty, bicep flex for prosperity, Summer Hopkins standing victorious beneath the bright lights and in the middle of the Squared Circle.
VS.
CARLA CRASH
As the night rolled on, the FAWNatics continued to voice their high spirits, that enthusiasm just barely cooling to a simmer between hotly contested matches. It was during one such pause in the action, stage hands clearing the ring at centre field, that the lights dimmed to near darkness. An excited ripple tumbled through the suddenly becalmed masses as anticipation built irresistibly with each passing moment. Finally, inevitably, the packed arena burst back into life, the sound system erupting with…
MADE FOR THIS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIwbSq-bomk
…as the stage was bathed in much welcome illumination!!
There, as the new centre of their attention, stood the Supergirl of Sheffield, Summer Hopkins!!
SUMMER HOPKINS
Remembering all of her coaching from the deceptively patient, Susan Style, Summer popped into a jaunty, little bicep flex with one of the long stems crossed ever so slightly in front of the other, capturing everyone’s attention, including that of the Gladiatrix photographers.
While she didn’t quite possess the sheer, domineering presence of her elder sibling, Cassie, Baby Hopkins was physically sublime non the less, every inch of her a sleek and athletic in all the right places as her form fitting attire hugged her like a jealous lover, five foot seven and one hundred and twenty-eight pounds of instant heartbreak.
Heroically she fought down the desire to blush fiercely in the face of the crowds overwhelming response, the masses serenading her with cheers as they welcomed her to the FAWN family. Emboldened by their support, the wallflower turned starlet pivoted into a spiral with her arms outstretched wide, the walls of her childhood insecurities toppled over by such, overwhelming, positive reinforcement. Summer was living a dream, and she was giddy with embarrassment, bringing her hands back together in the shape of a heart, one that mirrored the cut-out silhouette in her sapphire top.
She set off down the ramp, spotlight accompanying her every step of the way, eating up the distance with long strides in no time at all. As the British Bombshell 2.0, her blonde curls bounced atop her shoulders, and as the ring swiftly approached, she arrived at it without hesitation, making up the last few yards at a sudden dash.
As she reached the apron she jumped, deftly making the distance with both of her long legs before sweeping them up and over the top rope, lifting one lithe stem up and over the uppermost coil before following up with the other, deliberately offering the hard camera a cheeky shot of her firm buttocks in the process, no doubt done so at the behest of her sponsor, especially with the words ‘YOU WISH!!’ stencilled across the young women’s firm, crimson clad cheeks in white, girlish script.
Arriving at centre ring, she popped into a second, jaunty bicep flex for the FAWNatics continued appreciation, Summer feeling heady from the experience. With a wink for the camera, she turned to the Official for the evening, asking him a question under her breath.
“How was that?” she queried, suddenly deeply concerned concerning his assessment.
He gave her the thumbs up and, with an exhale of relief, she thanked the stars above that she’d managed to nail at least one part of the evening without performing a dreaded pratfall.
Of course, now came the hard part…
FACE IN THE DARK
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TLmVi8fWKU
…began to play over the loud speakers and, when the opening melody promised that the ‘lights were low’, the stadiums illumination responded in kind, bathing the arena in an ominous lull. Only when the chorus kicked in, ‘till I hear the Reaper call’ ratcheting up the tempo, did the spotlight return to the stage, the Hardcore Hellcat pushing out through the curtains with a purposeful stride and a robust rolling of her shoulders, dark eyes on the squared circle as every, lethal inch of her was a primed and libre.
CARLA CRASH
Five foot eight, one hundred and thirty pounds of patented, controlled aggression, the perpetually surely Crash made short work of the ramp leading up to the ring, the FAWNatics voicing their collective displeasure every step of the way. She cared not a jot, the former Stuntwoman long accustomed to being the ‘Invisible Women’ of Hollywood, even an arena full of displeasure could not add to the cesspool of simmering, frequently boiling resentment that already lived in the pit of her gut.
Instead, she settled on stripping them of their delusions one wannabe athlete at a time, doing so within the confines of a squared circle where, luck would have it, all of her desires were pleasantly legal.
Two at a time, she bounded up the steel steps, swiftly ducking between the top and middle ropes with little ceremony before marching from one corner to the other. She stopped one stride from her destination and, with a rotation of her wrists preceding a robust shadow boxing of her fists, she turned about sharply to march back towards centre ring.
“For f*cks sake, Hopkins,” Crash curled her lip into an exasperated sneer, looking her former, Developmental rival up and down. They had clashed before, behind the scenes at the performance centre, and rarely had it gone well for the former wallflower. “You actually turned up?” she questioned in disbelief.
Somewhat flatfooted by the display of outright disregard, Summer’s reply came as an unfortunate stammer, “I, well, yes, my name was on the…”
“Jesus, Hopkins, shut up,” Carla cut her off, squaring her shoulders in a dominant display, like a silverback scenting weakness. “I thought you might have learned something the last time I dropped you on your head. Go home.” Crash stepped forwards, delivering her next declaration with quite threat, “Last warning.”
Summer, like a deer in headlights, almost made a decision that would define the rest of her life…
…instead, steeling her resolve, the Supergirl of Sheffield squared her own shoulders, refusing to be intimidated as she stepped forwards, getting all up in Carla’s business and narrowing her own baby blues, much to the delight of the watching FAWNatics.
“Make me.”
Carla, perhaps for the first time in living memory, quirked the smallest of smirks, the duo chest to chest and almost forehead to forehead as their shared animosity was almost tangible. Crash backed off, still smirking, flexing her fingers as she hopped from one foot to the other. “Alright, casket it is.”
Summer, relieved that Crash had backed down, began to exhale slowly…
…before Carla surged right back in, the Hollywood Hooligan unleashing a wicked Haymaker towards her unprotected noggin…
…or at least, it should have been had the reflexes of Hopkins MK2 been ever so slightly slower. Instead Summer raised a protective arm to ward off the dastardly blow with a firm block before, without consciously thinking, the Brit responded with a Haymaker of her own, one delivered sweet as you like to the cheek of her Rival and connecting with righteous retribution.
With the wet CRACK echoing across the front rows, Crash’s head snapped sideways and she stumbled into a sharp spiral, riding the momentum as her ears were left ringing. Somehow, she managed to remain upright. She heard the cheers of the FAWNatics well enough, however, and it filled her with an intense need to even the score immediately.
“Well, sh*t,” she sneered, rubbing her jaw in disbelief as she turned back around to face the blonde before her, an amused growl gathering in the back of her throat. “Kitten has claws!!”
Without hesitation, Carla stormed right back into the breach, a momentarily wide-eyed Summer meeting her at centre ring as the duo of evenly matched athletes slapped together in a fiercely competitive, collar and elbow tie up. Crash, however, as the instigator of the collision, carried the advantage and immediately began powering the Supergirl of Sheffield backwards, the Brit giving ground one step at a time until her shoulders were THUMPED into the turnbuckles of her corner.
The two continued to shove against one another, grinding for leverage, but with Summer wedged into place, her predicament was growing worse by the moment.
“Feeling familiar?” Carla mocked with a vindictive glint in her eye, twisting their embrace to elicit a wince and pained cry from the ensnared Summer. “Now that defiantly sounded familiar.”
“Alright, alright!” the Official demanded, moving in to separate the pair as cleanly as possible. “I haven’t called for the bell yet, match hasn’t started!”
Crash, darkly amused, SHOVED against the trapped Hopkins one last time, if only to assert her control over her Developmental Rival, making her point before separating without further incident.
Summer, by comparison, apologised in a mildly sheepish manner, before exhaling deeply and pushing herself back out of her corner. She rolled her right shoulder and advanced, once again meeting Carla at centre ring, baby blues matching the challenging gaze of Crash’s own, dark browns.
“Feeling ruffled?” Carla baited.
Hopkins licked her lips, straightening her shoulders before crouching down, ready to engage, “Just getting started.”
“Alright,” the man in black and white, satisfied that he had resumed control, turned about and called for the bell, the loud chime bringing an official beginning to proceedings. “Go!”
“You heard the man,” Crash challenged, the Hollywood Hooligan poised and expectant, “bring it!”
Both of them advanced at the same time, much to the delight of the crowd, the two locking up in a second collar and elbow tie up to resume their contest. With a tensing of nubile flesh, the duo writhed and flexed for control of the intimate embrace until, with a cry of dismay beginning to build amongst the FAWNatics, it was Summer who was once again lost ground.
With a grunt of effort, Bombshell 2.0 was pushed back one step, then two, a third following quickly after, her sublime physique quivering as it struggled to compete with the greater power of the Hardcore Hellcat. That was until the beautiful blonde scrunched the bridge of her nose in renewed, Babyfaced dander and, with a deep breath, dug in the heels of her crimson boots and stubbornly called to a halt to her enforced retreat.
The FAWNatics remained silent as they watched on in hope and, even as Carla’s cheeks began to turn crimson with greater exertion, a growl was forced out of her throat. Ever so slowly, it was her turn to be pushed back, one step, two, a third followed and they were right back to start…
…which heralded a full-on retreat, an emboldened and spirited cry emerging from the torso of Hopkins MK2 as she POWERED the Boulevard Bytch backwards across the squared circle until it was her shoulders that were now SLAMMED into her corner. Summer, filled with glorious vindication, was positively glowing as she held her one-time bully wedged in place, proving that, for all of her swagger, she was in for a real fight tonight.
Of course, the Official just had to step in and be a party pooper.
“Alright, Summer,” he reminded the athletic Brit, much to the annoyance of the spectators who were enjoying the show. “She’s in the ropes, back up.”
“You heard the man,” Carla taunted, “be a good girl, and back up.”
Hopkins didn’t take the bait, keeping her cool as she obeyed the rules of the contest, retaining eye contact with her opponent even as she broke away from Crash. She exhaled, taking a moment to gather herself as she stepped back, emboldened by her success as she…
…received a savage punt to her gut for her troubles, Carla kicking out and all but BURYING her boot deep into the toned tummy of the blonde before her. Wide eyed and grunting, Summer was popped up onto her tip toes before coming back down onto unsteady stems, her knees threatening to give out as she heaved for fresh air and circled her protesting midriff.
Crash didn’t give her time to process, shoving out from her corner to take full advantage of her opening, pushing past the protesting Official and grabbing the gutted Hopkins by her shoulders. Pivoting, she bodily SHOVED Summer into the corner in her place, wedging her up against the turnbuckles before DRIVING her knee up into her opponents already quivering abs. Satisfied with the heady groan that the blonde produced, Carla followed up her knee strike with a second, this time rewarded with a moan that was louder than the first. A third followed soon after, and the Supergirl of Sheffield was enforced to absorb the punishment, her arms soon dangling over the back of the top ropes and leaving her wide open to the abuse.
A full bakers dozen later, and Hopkins was slumped with her buttocks perched on the middle turnbuckle, head lolling forwards as she struggled to inhale.
“Carla!” the Official warned.
“Relax, count to five if you like,” Crash brushed off his authority with her deadpan dismissal, “I’ll have her out of her predicament in less than four.” Grasping the suitably submissive Summer by her firm thighs, fingers repositioning to cup her coveted, toned buttocks, she braced her back before lifting the other young woman skywards, jostling her up to sitting on the top turnbuckle.
Satisfied with her labour, Carla stepped back to…
…get caught flat footed for her sins, Hopkins displaying her own passion as she released a cry and KICKED out with her long, athletic right stem to positively BOOT Crash across her cheek with a meaty WHACK!!
The FAWNatics responded in the positive to her resurgence and, with Summer still sat on her perch, she stood up tall on the second set of turnbuckles as the gobsmacked Carla was sent pivoting about. With Crash not quite toppling over from the unexpected blow, Hopkins braced herself before launching into the air, taking to the sky and spreading out to flatten her foe with a stunning, Cross Body Splash…
…only for Hollywood Hooligan to catch her out of the air, forced to back pedal half a pace but, ultimately, keeping her feet and securing her cargo high above the canvas, one arm circling her Rival’s shoulders, and the other wedged between her split open thighs.
Summer shook her head in denial, but there was little more that she could do to prevent Carla from dropping down sharply to one knee and SLAMMING the small of her back down across a posted and rigid thigh. Hopkins groaned as her back was arched rapidly into a curve, long legs twitching as she sucked in a pained breadth and struggled to lift her head.
Carla, still retaining her grip, pushed back up to standing and hoisted Summer up with her, keeping her cargo secured by way of Cross Body and turning about to display her trophy. Hopkins remained suspended within her grasp, albeit now a little limper, momentarily reduced to being a highly coveted possession of many a Heel residing in the Locker Room.
“I was mistaken before,” Carla grunted, inhaling again as she adjusted her grip, muscling the now submissive Summer up to rest across her strong shoulders, locking her snugly in place with a Fireman’s Carry. “Now this feels familiar.”
Picking her spot, Crash lived up to her namesake as she charged, soon diving forwards into a sault and PLANTING her Original Rival into the deck across her back, compounding her punishment by driving her shoulders, and all one hundred and thirty of her own pounds down onto Hopkins tummy and torso.
ROLLING FIREMAN’S CARRY
www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0vYzvJlk8U
As she was being crushed between a rock and hard place, the Rolling Fireman’s Carry Slam compressing her between her tormentor and the canvas, Summer’s long stems kicked up into the air as her head bucked on her shoulders, a heady grunt announcing the escaping of air from her body. She crumpled a moment later, flat on her back, one leg popped up at the knee as she slumped, a prime target for Carla to capture, hook and roll her up into a forceful pin.
ONE!
Summer shoved up a shoulder as she rolled over onto her side, shaking her head and still showing plenty of spirit.
Carla didn’t complain, instead rolling off of her opponent and sustaining her momentum, relentless as she continued to apply pressure to the wounded fawn. Rolling the British Bombshell 2.0 over, the Hardcore Hellcat bullied the blonde up to kneeling, soon jostling her back up to vertical long before the Brit was prepared to be so.
“You want another concussion, is that how it is?” Crash taunted, her manner impatient as she secured a wrist, gripping far more tightly than she had any need to. “I can give you another concussion, Fap Time Barbie, you just have to ask!”
Pivoting sharply on the spot, she prepared to launch Hopkins MK2 across the ring by way of Irish Whip only, at the time of release, Summer refused to let go! Both came to a sudden and jarring stop, a sharp pain wrenching each of their shoulders in unison, but the blonde had been ready for the experience, rolling with the pain and, for once, catching Carla flat footed.
Suddenly finding herself with a captured limb in her possession, Summer spun about on the spot, whipping one of her long, lower limbs up and around to damn near behead the Boulevard Bytch with a beautiful Leg Lariat!!
Following the WHACK!! that echoed out to the spectators in the front rows (and those watching at home), both young women tumbled quickly to the canvas, Hopkins landing with a bump on her taunt buttocks, and Carla slamming to the deck across her shoulders.
Both immediately moved to recover and, while the duo was rising at the same time, an increasingly surly Crash, cradling one shoulder in particular, was the first to be fully vertical. The FAWNatics, however, remained in full support of the Supergirl of Sheffield as they rallied behind her resurgence, willing her to remain on the front foot with a hearty cheer…
…for which they were rewarded, Summer surging forwards with Babyfaced momentum as her foe zeroed in on her position, releasing a determined shout as she launched into a Running Bicycle Knee Strike!!
RUNNING BICYCLE KNEE STRIKE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3EwyOrwQfc
Achieving impressive lift, the athletic blonde NAILED the hard joint of her knee flush against Carla’s temple, turning the other young woman’s lights out and leaving her shellshocked. Crash dropped down again, this time to her knees, her boundless frustration enabling her to swat a useless arm out in front of her before reality caught up, forcing the dazed, raven haired grappler to slump back on her haunches.
Summer, retaining her balance and feeling increasingly energised as adrenaline flooded her system, took half a step back as she prepared to further weaponize her increasingly infamous, lower limbs. Pouncing back forwards, she struck out with one of her long legs, positively CRACKING the penitent Crash across her torso with a beautiful, thunderous snap kick!! A second followed in quick succession, and then a fourth, Summer pivoting to strike out in similar fashion with her left stem to equally effective results, Carla grunting and groaning as she tried her best to curl up defensively, but quickly found she had no-where to go.
The FAWNatics swiftly warmed up to the enthusiastic barrage, the British Bombshell unleashing a veritable ordinance of decisive kicks to her foe, her tempo only seeming to grow with each blow. As they reached a crescendo of cheers, Hopkins changed tact for the finale, slightly altering her target to CRACK!! her boot flush against the reeling, Hollywood Hooligan’s half shaven scalp.
SUPERGIRL SALVO
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ij01mZpEOy0
Slumping as though her strings had been cut, Crash slumped over onto her side, whilst Summer continued to rotate on the spot almost a full one eighty from the momentum of her own strike. Momentarily all of a fluster following the swift reversal in fortunes, Summer recovered quickly enough to seize her opportunity, diving atop the shellshock Carla and roll her over onto her back. Seizing both of her rival’s legs, and rolling her up to secure victory…
ONE!
TW…
Crash shoved up a shoulder with considerable force, coming to with a shout and shoving Hopkins away as though someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water. Both rolled away, and Carla was up onto her hands and knees quickly, slamming both of her fists down on the canvas in frustration, much of that ire focused at her own sloppiness.
“Fine!” Crash snapped, the Hardcore Hellcat pushing up onto her feet and cracking her jaw, internalising her pain as she made a renewed b-line for Summer. “Heavy artillery it is!!”
Hopkins, emboldened by her recent success, showed no hesitation in meeting Carla’s advance, raising her own defences as Crash’s conditioned frame transitioned to a boxer’s stance. A rapid, right haymaker followed and, much like before, Summer deflected, the FAWNatics enrapt with the proceedings but, with her guard raised, she was unable to prevent a left uppercut from BELTING her in the side.
The blonde winced, bucking ever so slightly to the right, a short grunt escaping from her body as she left her even more wide open. Crash wasn’t going to let that go to waste, connecting with a THUMP to the opposite side of her Rival’s ribcage, encouraging Hopkins MK2 to retreat. Carla piled on the pressure, warming to her topic now, her jaw clenched as she followed with one, two, THREE stiff blows to her opponents toned, slowly yielding tummy, the pained grunts of her beloved adversary becoming deflated groans.
Soon enough, the Supergirl of Sheffield was pressed up against the ropes, her defences well and truly breached as Crash rained down a further trio of gut punches, those groans all too quickly replaced with moans. Slumped against the coils, Hopkins offered no protest as her wrist was re-secured and, following a sharp pivot and yank from Carla, the blue-eyed blonde was sent into an involuntary sprint across the canvas.
Summer dashed across the ring, covering the distance in short order before she pivoted into the opposite coils, the rubber coated steel embracing her before snapping taunt. Re-launched back across the canvas, she returned to sender quickly, Crash braced and ready to…
…EAT a jaw dropping Supergirl Punch as the British Bombshell 2.0 leapt into the air, flinging her fist down into her foes unexpecting cheek. As if the thunderous strike really had been thrown by the Last Daughter of Krypton, the Hardcore Hellcat was knocked for a loop, her head pivoting sideways as she stumbled in a stupor.
SUPERGIRL PUNCH
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mfdp8LETRks&t=80s
As the FAWNatics erupted in cheers, Carla teetered left and then right, as though she was uncertain as to which way she was supposed to be falling. Helpfully, Hopkins MK2 made the decision for her, ducking low so that she could gather the dark-haired Crash up and onto her shoulders, securing her involuntary cargo in a Fireman’s Carry.
“Just an FYI,” Summer quipped as she took two strides away from the security of the ring ropes, huffing with pained resolve, “Barbie is an icon.”
Picking her spot, the Supergirl of Sheffield began to rotate in a tight circle, taking the unwilling Carla for a ride with her, quickly picking up momentum just as the FAWNatics were lending her their support, the three sixty spirals rapidly picking up speed until she was a veritable blur of motion!!
SUPERGIRL EXPRESS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WifeCQFv_Po
Soon enough, in high spirits as they were, the crowd began counting the delightful rotations, chanting in unison as she passed ten, then fifteen, and then finally “TWENTY!!”, the beautiful, blonde Brit coming to a stop with Crash still strapped across her shoulders. She shook her head for a moment, blinking several times as she regained her bearings, until a twitch of her nose betrayed her intentions.
Instead of setting Carla down, Summer instead began rapidly rotating AGAIN, this time in the opposite direction, taking the already disorientated, Boulevard Bytch for a second ride on the Supergirl Express!! Picking up speed, the arena was perhaps even more enthused with the second Airplane Spin than they had been with the first, resuming their count as she reached ten, then fifteen, then passed twenty, reaching twenty-five, then THIRTY!!
The FAWNatics gave up after that, their accompanying chant instead becoming a sea of cheers and applause until Hopkins must inevitably come to a stop. She almost fell over when she did so, stumbling several steps to the left before changing course and stumbling several steps to the right. One last handful of drunken, dizzied strides and Summer was back to start, the British Bombshell 2.0 shaking her head and finding her centre.
As if momentarily unsure as to what she was supposed to do next, Hopkins blinked several times before setting her mind to her next task, opting to take a page out of her first ever Rival’s own playbook. “How hard can it be?” she queried no-one but herself before she dashed onwards, launching herself into a forward dive that resulted in compliant Crash leading the way, Carla’s back being PLANETED into the canvas with Summer landing atop her!
ROLLING FIREMAN’S CARRY SLAM
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZKN3221w9c
With her head well and truly scrambled and her lungs forcibly depleted of air, a groaning Crash slumped out on the mat, Hopkins MK2 diving atop of her to secure a fresh pinfall.
ONE!
TWO!!
Crash shoved up a shoulder, shaking her head in aggravation, much to the disappointment of those watching.
Pushed away, Summer leant back on her heels, taking several deep breaths as she leant forwards with her palms on her knees. Nodding a self-affirmation to herself, the blonde set herself back to business, pushing herself up onto one foot and then the other as Carla was finding her knees.
The Hollywood Hooligan was shaking her own head now that the world was slowly returning to normal, pinching the bridge of her nose before she jabbed her knuckles down hard into the mat. As the ascendant Hopkins snagged her by the shoulders, Crash chose that moment to lash out, JABBING her thumb into a baby blue peeper!!
Wounded by the viperous strike, Summer stumbled away with a YELP, clutching at her features as her eye watered heavily, stinging with an intensity that left her distracted. Folded forwards and exposed, she was in little position to protect herself as a surly Carla dragged herself back up to standing and zeroed in on her blind side, GRABBING Hopkins by her mane.
With a YANK she pulled the blinded Summer’s head back and collected one of her arms, wrapping the captured limb tightly about the blonde’s own throat before securing it in place. Cobra Clutch locked in, Crash dropped rapidly down onto one knee and whiplashed her opponent along with her, SNAPPING her into a backwards curl until her spine was WHACKED across a posted thigh.
COBRA CLUTCH BACKBREAKER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFCcCyxD_jI
Gasping with a sharp exhale, Summer’s whole body spasmed as it was forcibly curled the wrong way, her thighs losing much by the way of feeling as, relentless in her punishment, Crash bodily dragged her back up to standing. With Hopkins reeling, Carla transitioned her grip, now snapping her own arm tight about the beautiful blonde’s throat, seizing her in a Standing Sleeper which she immediately began to bore down on with considerable force.
Almost immediately, the Supergirl of Sheffield began to fade visibly, her heart beating in panic as she swayed on her already unsteady feet. She slumped, her lips parting slightly as her baby blues fluttered, her arms almost idly grasping blindly at air as Crash WRENCHED her with small movements from one side to the other, expediating the release of tension from the Brits athletic body. Defiantly, Summer tensed, some part of her knowing that she much try to escape, her right arm tugging on the flexed bicep pressed up against her slim throat, but such efforts were fruitless, the ensnared young woman already lacking the strength needed to make a difference.
“That’s it,” Crash growled into her ear, the Hardcore Hellcat deriving a great deal of satisfaction from squeezing the defiance out of her Original Rival. “Put up a struggle, you and I both know what these idiots really want to get out of you.”
Summer’s lips parted to answer, but only the lowest of moans could still escape from her sublimely sculptured body, her bosom hiking for breaths that she could not inhale. With a shimmy running down the length of her legs, Hopkins dropped down to one knee, her arms swaying limply at her thighs as her baby blues fluttered closer to shut. Crash followed her down to one knee, applying even greater pressure on the Sleeper now that her foe was close to surrender, continuing to taunt the other girl with jibes into her ear.
“They just want something to jerk off to.”
Summer, with no-where to go, released a final shudder before her shoulders definitively slumped, all starch fleeing from her body as she dangled in her adversaries’ grip. Carla was left to deliver one last, possessive wrench of her hold before the Official moved in to check on the Brit. Carla, delivering the man in black and white a hard eye, prevented him from doing so, TOSSING Hopkins aside and dropping her limp limbed physique down onto the canvas.
The FAWNatics responded with a chorus of boos, not at all liking where this was going.
The Official, as it turned out, was likewise minded.
“Come on, Carla,” he protested, “let’s not do this.”
“Relax,” Crash waved him off before getting back to work. “I’m not a sadist, I just know what I want.”
Rolling Summer over onto her back, the young woman not protesting, arms splayed out in a crucifix and legs parted wide open. Carla settled down over her, bracing both of her palms down on her opponent’s shoulders before bracing the rest of her frame as though she were about to perform a push up.
“Alright,” she gave permission, “now you can begin counting.”
Reluctantly, that was what the man in black and white did, dropping down to the canvas to hit the mat for…
ONE!
Crash performed a push up, a dominant display for the hard camera.
TWO!!
Carla performed a second, her cheek coming down to brush against that of Summers.
THRE…
The British Bombshell 2.0 THREW up her right shoulder, dislodging her unwanted rider as she rapidly inhaled a DEEP, desperate breath, surging back to life in a woozy stupor, revealing the tenacity worthy of the most Babyfaced of Factions, the Upstart Nation.
“BULLSH*T!!” Carla declared after being unceremoniously dislodged, slamming both of her fists down onto the canvas. “THAT WAS THREE!!” she insisted, surging up to her feet and getting all up on the Officials face, “THREE!”
The man in black and white would not be moved, insisting it was ‘only’ two and three quarters. “Needs to be a full three,” he reminded, “maybe shouldn’t have let her go?”
Carla, her glare narrowed, backed off from the Official with a long, steady exhale, ensuring that he felt every moment of her scathing stink eye before turning about. “Fine, I try to play nice, and this is where it gets me,” Crash complained, leaning down grabbing a hold of the still splayed out Summer’s wrist. Callously, by her arm, she began to drag the beautiful blonde behind her across the canvas, like a cavewoman dragging away her prize to her homestead.
Reaching one corner, and with Hopkins MK2 coming around with increasing lucidity with each passing moment, Carla bent down and began bullying the Brit back up to her feet. “Here we are,” Crash prompted, domineeringly shoving the dazed Summer back first into the corner, the young woman responding with mumbles and moans. “Back where we started.”
Grabbing her opponent by her responsive thighs, the Boulevard Bytch muscled the Supergirl of Sheffield up off her feet until she came down to sitting on the top turnbuckle. Summer’s eyes were back open now, and she inhaled a deep breath as Carla began climbing the turnbuckles in front of her, the duo becoming more precarious by the second.
“You want me to believe you can fly?” Crash taunted her rival, delivering a sharp rabbit punch to the girl’s temple to keep from getting any new ideas. “Let’s see you fly,” Carla threatened, slinging one of Hopkins arms up and over her shoulder, preparing to grab a hold of the other young woman’s belt…
…before Summer surged up to standing, adrenaline spiking as she powered the shocked Crash up and over onto her shoulders, securing her in a Fireman’s Carry high above the canvas. “Suit yourself,” was all the further warning that Hopkins would deliver before she leapt into the air, taking her opponent with her as she achieved impressive lift.
As they came back to earth, Summer was already popping her cargo free of her perch, the British Bombshell 2.0 coming down to land on one knee and, with all the momentum in the world behind her, DROPPED Carla down, exposed tummy first, across her posted thigh!!
AVALANCHE FIREMAN’S CARRY GUTBUSTER
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz9hOKVWMh4
Gutted in almost every sense of the word, Crash both GASPED and convulsed as she bounced away from the impact, arms wrapping about her crumpled midriff as she hit the canvas stiffly and rolled over onto her back. She beat the sole of her boot down against the mat as pain wracked her penetrated gut, desperate to suck in air that her body had no interest in trying to inhale.
Unfortunately for Summer, she was in no position to take immediate advantage, a wave of fatigue washing over her as she slumped over sideways, becoming entangled in the bottom ropes, baby blues fluttering as they threatened to reclose. She forced them to stay open, she forced herself to stay awake, the young woman determined to engage in a painful race with her Rival as to who would be the first to recover.
As it happened, both proved to be equally determined to reach the other before they could recover, albeit they collided whilst the were also both still on their knees. With deep, pained filled exhales, they grappled at close quarters, searching and struggling for even an inch of advantage, the air soon filling with grunts and forceful groans.
Finally, as Crash GRABBED a fistful of blonde curls, it seemed as though a sharp yank would pull Hopkins off balance, but the one-time Wallflower refused to play along. Instead, huffing in protest, she instead twisted with the harsh tug, riding the momentum and, before Carla could snag her, rapidly pivoted up and around her Original Rival, her firm buttocks coming to sit of the Hollywood Hooligans back. Sensing her opportunity, Summer wasted not a second, the FAWNatics watching daring to believe as the blonde caught the Hardcore Hellcat in a sleek Dragon Sleeper!!
Immediately she began to reef back on the hold, pushing her coveted backside on her opponents back as she did so, both curling the woman’s spine, and constricting her throat, Carla struggling to inhale as she reached out blindly for escape. There was none forth coming, not as Hopkins further locked in her embrace, clutching both of her palms together behind her own back, crying out with supreme effort as she sunk the Dragon Sleeper in tighter!!
KRYPTONIAN CLUTCH: @0:46
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGmzxMdl5FI
Carla’s lips parted into a gurgle as her eyes fluttered to half lidded, one leg scraping out fruitlessly across the canvas as tugged just as uselessly on her foes elbow. The FAWNatics were chanting for her to tap out and, as her chest hiked in search of lost oxygen, the muscles in her back began cramping on the verge of collapse.
As the world grew dim before her, Crash was left with just one choice left to make, which was to decide which of the two fates her pride would most quickly bounce back from. Infuriated, she began to slap the palm of her hand down on the canvas, signalling to the Official her submission, refusing to pass out at the hands of Hopkins.
Needing no further prompting, the man in black and white called for the bell, naming Summer as the winner as, victoriously, the girl’s music emerged from the sound system above…
MADE FOR THIS
www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIwbSq-bomk
…elated by the revelation that she had won, Summer released Carla and let the Boulevard Bytch drop hard to the canvas, allowing her to start inhaling deep, greedy breaths.
The blonde, feeling giddy from the moment, half stumbled away from her embrace, smiling in sheepish fashion as she managed to catch her balance at centre ring. Exhaling a deep, sigh of relief as the crowd serenaded her with applause, the Supergirl of Sheffield ensured that she found the hard camera before popping into a jaunty, bicep flex for prosperity, Summer Hopkins standing victorious beneath the bright lights and in the middle of the Squared Circle.