Post by hawkeye on Apr 22, 2024 22:34:15 GMT
When fate and Bethany comes calling, especially with a chance to make you the first ever simultaneous Tag and World Champion, you put aside a first team title defense to become the top superstar in the organization.
For when jealousy reared its ugly head with The Brat, and Gladiatrix named not her but Heather Crofton as ‘The One to Watch’, Braddock subsequently demanded an opportunity to humiliate the Texan with the big belt on the line.
Lisa downright demanded the Yellow Rose set aside their first match as champs, knowing such a prospect would be not just career-changing, but life-changing.
And as the power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey launches from FAWN Arena’s sound system, Heather can feel the butterflies swarming in her tummy. The match grandly titled ‘The Faces of the Future’ is very much the present.
The people pop to their feet, swaying as their raised arms flow from side to side. They’re joyous with the imminent arrival of the adorable Lone Star Girl, the bubbly blonde member of the champion Dream Team, the Girl from Grapevine filling their wholesomeness quotient in full.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, the fresh-faced grappler cheerily moves to center stage.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement and comfort in the spotlight is unmistakable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
On her lonesome at the champion’s demand, no Dream in sight, she’ll be working without a net with Kat’s lackey, Bianca Simpson, of course very much ready to accompany and assist the titleholder.
The Texan spins through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in canary yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side to slap hands.
In the last several strides, the cowgirl takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and knee pads. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl backpedals to her corner as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 60-minute time limit and is for the FAWN World Championship. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…and one member of the FAWN Tag Team champions…Heather Crofton!”
The effervescent flaxen-haired fighter leaps high, drops into a set of splits, then spins an invisible lasso above her head with a raised right hand. Heather pumps a first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she maneuvers to a ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Let’s go, y’all.”
She unsnaps her the tag belt from her waist and raises it high, safe in the knowledge it’s going nowhere and believing it will have a sibling soon enough.
Crofton drops to the canvas and hands over her hardware, ready to make history.
With the funhouse mirror image of Kat in the squared circle, a Richter scale rumble courses through the arena. The previous ovation changes to an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing all too well what the tremor means.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
After the flash, in the light show’s place, is the ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat center stage. Her usual shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin has returned, as has her World Championship, raised with both hands by her stooge, Bianca Simpson.
FAWN’s long-time Jobber Extraordinaire, leads the way down the ramp and aisle. Not that she’s at all competent as a combatant, but Bianca is dressed for battle in her simple red one-piece battle attire, in case the boss needs some physical support.
BIANCA SIMPSON
The curvy Quake strides toward the battleground in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
KAT BRADDOCK:
Kat’s gear (
and ( 
).
The once-upon-a-time beach fighter strides confidently to ringside, Simpson trying to shout down the TWO-time champions many detractors.
As the duo reach their destination, Kat directs Bianca to hand over her gold and sends the worker bee over to the announcer’s table as the man provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The World Champion. The California Quake. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste reaching new heights as Braddock continues to hold the big belt for month after month.
Bianca snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and brings it to Braddock on the apron’s edge. Simpson stretches the top and middle ropes wide for Kat to enter comfortably between.
Moving to the middle, barely acknowledging the stretching, bouncing challenger, Braddock draws the stick to parted lips.
“Shut your holes you mouth-breathers!”
The FAWNatics are not in the mood to oblige and force Braddock to shout over them.
“Let me address the literal and figurative yellow journalism of Gladiatrix naming that as the face of the future and the one to watch.”
The champ motions to Heather without bothering to look in her direction.
“I’m not only the present, but I’m the only future this place and you people are ever going to know. I’m taking special pleasure in proving that tonight with this little semi-champion.”
Kat turns to her challenger.
“Girl, after I humiliate you tonight, just pray I don’t use Bianca to take the tag belts off you and your old maid of a partner.”
Braddock hands the microphone to said flunky and moves to her corner, covered from any shenanigans by Simpson.
As Bianca take her post on the outside with each valuable possession, the bell brings the World Title contest to order.
With the momentary blip of losing and regaining the World title to newly signed Casey Newsome behind her, Braddock incessantly refusing to provide the bigger brunette a rematch of the rematch, the Cali Quake emerges from her corner appearing as confident as ever.
On the opposite side, the Yellow Rose brims with her own belief, having become a tag champion the month before. Together, the proclaimed faces of FAWN’s future circle each other, perhaps equally knowing the top of the mountain awaits, and at such an early age.
Hands raised and fingers wriggling, they throw their bodies toward each other and enter a collar-and-elbow tie-up. While Heather’s slightly taller, the two lightweights are close enough in size neither can take control without working for the leverage.
They dance around the ring, trying to find an opening and slowly Crofton begins forcing the champ into a backpedal to the corner behind her. A few feet removed, Kat shifts her weight and balance, and it’s the Girl from Grapevine who has her back feeling the buckles. Braddock forces her right forearm under Crofton’s chin, shoving Heather’s head back, while disregarding lead referee Nick Castle’s complaints.
When he starts to count, The Brat releases and steps back, arms raised high.
“The next generation has to do things the right way, right Heather?” Kat asks.
The Lone Star Girl is suspicious and with good reason, as Braddock surges forward with a bytch slap aimed for the Texan’s left cheek. Heather dips beneath and pulls Kat into take her place tight to the corner.
It’s now Crofton ignoring Castle’s pleas as she loads a big right forearm shiver and sends it at the titleholder’s jaw. But the Beach Bytch sneaks under and shoves Crofton back to her original space, then lowers her sights. There’s no avoiding the raised knee Kat DRIVES into Heather’s navel, doubling the Yellow Rose at the waist while lifting her foe to tiptoes. Crofton’s eyes bulge from being impaled, as a loud exhale escapes her lips.
Before Nick can start another count, Kat kicks her fellow blonde’s legs out from under her, Heather landing on her taut tush, stems extended in front of her. Immediately, the indignant Braddock stomps away at Crofton’s chest, working Heather into a Texas-sized mudhole.
With the Lone Star Girl pacified, a snarling Kat jogs to the opposite corner, makes a u-turn and sprints at her lowered target. Taking off from several feet out, the Quake launches and twists 120 degrees to land a hip/butt blast to Heather’s face, the challenger’s noggin whiplashing away from the impact. The crowd groans from the scene, concerned Braddock gained an early edge.
On the sidelines, Bianca is all smiles, applauding her boss and unsuccessfully trying to get others to join her. A jovial Kat walks away from the flaxen-haired wreckage she wrought, grabbing Castle by a shirt sleeve as she discusses if there are any special rules for a Faces of the Future match. As she does, Simpson slinks around a corner and wraps her right arm around the throat of the dazed Texan, Heather flails wildly as her windpipe is compressed, the infamous jobber showing she’s good at something.
Bianca chokes the life from her superior’s adversary for a good five seconds before releasing and, with the match rules now clarified, Braddock pushes past Nick to get back at her foe.
Grabbing a wrist of the sagging, red-faced Heather, Braddock violently yanks the ‘One to Watch’ to her feet and NAILS Crofton with a stereo pair of windmill slaps to the blonde’s breasts. The Lone Star Girl winces after the echoing impact, flinching away from the champ, but not far enough to escape her control.
Bullying Heather deep into the ropes midway down the ring, The Brat heaves her counterpart out of the cables with an Irish Whip and follows to center stage. Flying across the canvas, Crofton is on a collision course after her rebound. The curvy, vertically-challenged champion scoops Heather off the canvas under her pert backside, pivots and POUNDS each and every vertebrae of the Yellow Rose into the deck with a brutal Spinebuster.
Spinebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vX25eihTDN0 ) :22
With the flattened would-be ‘Heather Two-Belts’ at her feet in a starfish, Braddock points down at the semi-conscious Crofton, shouting expletives and that there’s only one future, with every ensuing year to be Kat’s year.
The former beach fighter, plucked from obscurity by the since dispatched Chrissy Daniel, plants a boot sole on the cleft of Heather’s bosom, raising an arm high under the jeers of a profoundly disappointed set of FAWNatics.
Castle dutifully slaps the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton shoves a shoulder up, Braddock stumbling a step before regaining her balance but not her composure. Instead, the enraged Brat stomps a more viscous mudhole out of the defenseless Heather, the Girl from Grapevine collapsing into a fetal ball in protection.
“Take your sorry ass back to the tag division where the old hag can protect you,” Kat insists.
The Brat batters the Yellow Rose out of her ball and sinks her nails into the thin yellow spandex covering the challenger’s chest. Using Crofton’s tits as handles, Kat RIPS a howling Heather to her feet via the gouging breast claws, then releases and buggywhips her frame with a European Uppercut under the chin of the challenger.
The Texan staggers in a backpedal to the corner Bianca inhabits below. Braddock offers the lackey some instruction, then hustles to the far corner, turns and zooms toward the Lone Star Girl. Heather tries to evacuate, but Simpson, as stealthily as possible, wraps an arm around Crofton’s ankle and the flaxen-haired fireplug arrives with an avalanche splash that brings as much impact to the faltering Texan as any could in the sub-125 game.
The dominant Kat bounces away from the collision with grin firmly planted and Bianca releases her grip. Receiving a tardy warning from Castle, a smushed Yellow Rose totters out toward the middle, making it several steps before the full effect of being CRUSHED by Kat takes its toll. Crofton takes a header to the deck, ending face down and unmoving, clearly out of her league with the rampaging California Quake.
Braddock dramatically wipes her hands as if her job at ‘March to War’ is nearly complete.
Kat rolls Heather to her back with a shove from her boot, then grabs the wrists of the demolished Lone Star Girl and drags Crofton in front of the nearest corner, the Girl from Grapevine positioned so her legs are pointed at the buckles.
“She’s already learned. Now you will too,” Braddock shouts to the front rows.
Kat kicks Heather’s legs wide, so they’re in a vulnerable ‘V’, then trudges to the corner, climbing and turning to face her target. Leaping from on high, Braddock’s arms are pinned to her sides, so she leads with her noggin, The Big One (head butt from the top) going to rock more than the San Andreas fault but the Lone Star Girl’s available crotch.
Thankfully for anyone hoping for a competitive match, Heather butt-scoots backwards of the kitty-blasting missile and a wide-eyed Braddock literally faceplants into the thinly sheathed floorboards.
With Braddock shell-shocked between her calves, Crofton slithers forward, lifts the head of the dazed Kat and lays it between the top of her upper thighs. She wraps the thin but sinewy muscles around the captured cranium. Heather presses up on her palms, cinching and squeezing her head scissors tight until The Brat’s face takes on a rosy hue.
Braddock’s palms press against the thin, but sinewy thighs of her challenger, then slip inside the lower limbs as Kat tries to pry herself loose from the predicament. But the Yellow Rose clamps even more forcefully and the Cali Quake finds the effort useless.
Her features moving from pink to purple, a desperate Braddock rises to her knees and shimmies forward, managing to stack Crofton on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather surrenders her leggy vice grip around Kat’s noggin to break free from the pin and roll a shoulder off the canvas. The Lone Star Girl hops to her feet, beating the champ there by an important second or two. It’s enough time for the Girl From Grapevine to load up a Texas-sized European Uppercut and THUMP it under the chin of her fellow future of FAWN when she rises.
Kat staggers into a backpedal from the blow, her arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
Surging forward, Heather adds a crisp dropkick to Kat’s chest and the champ is sent stumbling to the ropes behind her. Braddock’s arms wrap around the top rope to keep her upright. But when Crofton kips to her feet and NAILS Braddock with a follow-up clothesline across the clavicle, The Brat is sent backflipping over the cables. She tumbles off the apron, CRASHING to the floor below.
Ending in a pool at the base of the ring, a glassy-eyed Kat props on her palms, the FAWNatics roaring their approval for Heather grasping the momentum but showing concern when the Yellow Rose follows Braddock out of the ring.
Crofton drops next to the puddled titleholder, puts the fear of God in Bianca with a raised fist, Simpson scurrying around a corner, then sinks her fingers into each trapezius, forcing a wincing Kat up with claws digging into Braddock’s shoulders. Backing the Quake against with the apron’s edge, Heather lifts the fans’ spirits further with a cheeky Love Tap, Crofton lighting up Kat’s cleavage with a double-barreled overhand slap to the champ’s gurls.
Hoots and hollers from the Texan’s posse accompany a yelping Braddock as she turns from her challenger, stumbling away while covering her bosom with both arms, features etched in pain.
“You’re gonna…”
The Lone Star Girl cuts off Braddock’s threat by snatching Kat’s golden mane, then SLAMMING Braddock’s forehead into the apron’s edge. The Brat whiplashes from the impact, stepping in fencepost holes as she continues to try and build space between her and her rampaging contender.
Heather continues to track her pernicious prey while keeping one eye on her stunning stooge, walking and waving to her adoring admirers, enjoying every second of the control and accompanying adulation.
“I’m gonna what?” Crofton asks as she grabs her foe’s right wrist and shoulder. “Be the first simultaneous World and Tag champ?”
As the Girl From Grapevine delivers her verbal jab, Braddock twists out of Heather’s grasp and drives a raised knee DEEP into Heather’s navel, doubling the bug-eyed challenger at the waist, a great exhale escaping Crofton’s lips. Kat cups a palm under Heather’s chin, lifting her foe’s head so the two flaxen-haired fighters are nose to nose.
“You’re gonna regret pretending you’re anything but a side show to the real ONE TO WATCH!”
Kat digs her claws into both shoulders to steady Crofton in front of her, pulling Heather out of her crouch, then POUNDS her skull into the cleft of the Lone Star Girl’s bosom, delivering a brutal Heart Butt, the champ’s version of a Heart Punch, to Crofton’s ticker. The Texan’s legs turn to jelly as her eyes roll white, the heart of the Yellow Rose skipping a beat. She collapses into Kat’s arms, the crowd silenced by the terrible and tenacious Cali Quake.
Braddock stuffs her challenger back into the ring, rolling her under the bottom rope. She turns to the FAWNatics and flashes them a double-bird, reigniting the crowd’s ire toward their World Champion.
Chuckling, Kat turns back to the ring’s contents, Castle counting, a dazed Crofton nevertheless pushing up to her haunches.
“Time to show this bytch who the present AND the future really is.”
Instead of following Crofton’s path back in, Braddock gives the obsequious Bianca a high-five and climbs to the apron. She moves to the nearest corner, ascending it from the outside. Kat reaches a penthouse stance atop the ropes on either side of the buckle when Heather springs to life and throws her body into the cables to the champ’s left. Thrown off balance by the shimmy of her perch, Braddock collapses to a pained seat atop the uppermost padding.
The Lone Star Girl quickly snatches Kat’s cranium in a front facelock and pulls away from the corner, extending the frame of the fireplug blonde until only Kat’s hooked ankles remain on the top strand. With the crowd returning to its thunderous support, Heather lays out and brutally SPIKES Kat’s braincase into the thinly-sheathed floorboards with a gawd awful Texas Danger DDT.
Corner DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g5gvN2X9wE ) :05
In a headstand for a split-second, a limp Kat flops over to her chest, an unconscious single file of beaten champion. With the roof about to be blown off, Heather turns and layers her sweat-soaked body atop the similarly sheened remains of The Brat, hooking both lifeless legs for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…Braddock’s shoulders remain down for the three, but a confused Yellow Rose hears no third slap. The beloved babyface spins her view to Castle who in turn points to Braddock’s slightly extended left arm. At the end, the champ’s palm is wrapped loosely around the bottom rope, the Cali Quake rocked to her core but still with the innate ability to survive the worst of disasters, though if Nick had been more observant, he’d have seen Simpson with a timely assist.
With the FAWNatics booing Castle about having their dream temporarily torn away, Crofton lets Braddock’s motionless stems fall to the deck. The challenger pushes to her feet, sweeping her golden locks off her face and sighing deeply. So close. But more work to do.
Crofton grabs Braddock by the ankles and yanks a desperate Kat from her grip on the ropes. With the champ removed from them, Heather transfers to Kat’s wrists and drags the deadweight to the corner farthest from Bianca, propping The Brat in a seat against the bottom buckle.
With a languid Braddock lounging, head drooping, the Girl From Grapevine hustles to the opposite buckles, waves at a fretting Simpson and u-turns for a run at the shellshocked titleholder. The Lone Star Girl speeds into a full sprint and leaps from several feet out, collapsing into a tuck position and PLOWING her knees and shins into Kat’s chest with a missile-like meteora that ROCKS the usually sturdy if vertically-challenged champ.
Sent further into a coma-like state, Braddock offers no resistance as Heather, amidst her second wind, yanks the carcass of the Quake several feet removed from the buckles and lays her just so, perpendicular to her challenger’s future launch pad.
With Kat’s body in a vulnerable starfish, Crofton strides to the corner and climbs, stopping to pump her first to the indulgent and affectionate crowd. Reaching the top, the potential ‘One To Watch’ turns to face her target. She lifts her arms high, dropping into a slight crouch, then takes to the sky like few can. The Lone Star Girl vaults into the stratosphere, flipping through the full 450 of her ‘Don’t Mess With Texas’ splash.
Don’t Mess With Texas ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJlgiClk4p4 )
But before Heather can land and force the remaining fight from Braddock, Kat gets her knees up and skewers the tummy of the Yellow Rose. As the FAWNatics groan in sympathy, Heather flops away from the catastrophic collision, hugging her midriff as if she’s trying to keep internal organs in place, gasping for air, eyes bulging.
Ending on her back not far from a spent Kat, a gutted Heather shifts from side to side, moaning and retching, embracing her bruised belly, no doubt wondering how things could have gone so terribly wrong.
Trying to convince themselves this isn’t some horrible turning point, the masses give both young FAWN pillars their flowers, taking turns chanting “THIS…IS…AWESOME!” and “FIGHT…FOREVER!” in turn while the battered but indomitable women struggle through their infirmities.
Champ and challenger slowly roll to all fours, Kat and Heather staring daggers, clearly worn but unrelenting. They motion to the other, daring their counterpart to rise and come get them. With the crowd providing an ovation for both, the Cali beach girl and the Texas cowgirl ascend to stooped feet. They reflexively fashion their frames into expectant crouches and throw their nubile frames at one another, slamming together in a collar-and-elbow.
The duo fight for leverage for a few seconds before Crofton slickly slides out of the tie-up, sweeps behind Braddock, then snakes her arms up and around those of Kat. She laces her fingers together behind The Brat’s neck, capturing her adversary in a full nelson. The Yellow Rose rattles the Cali Quake from side to side, trying to scramble her foe’s senses and reestablish control of the match she seemed to lose with her mess of a Mess.
With Kat jangled, Crofton releases her foe and spins her fellow lightweight in a 180 with a grip on Braddock’s left shoulder. Dipping, the Yellow Rose wraps her arms around the waist of the champ and heaves The Brat up and over with a crisp belly-to-belly suplex.
Belly-to-belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ )
The momentum of the collision with the canvas sends Braddock to a seated position as Heather turns to view the damage. Scrambling to her feet, the Lone Star Girl surges to her sitting counterpart and soccer kicks Kat against the base of her spine. The plush former beach fighter arches in anguish from the attack, Kat’s features twisted in pain.
The champ spins on her cheeks to get the Texan in front of her, then butt-scoots to the buckles behind, waving off another attack, palms raised plaintively.
“There’s room enough for both of us, Heather,” Kat pleads. “We can both be the faces of the future. I’ll give you the fans. I don’t want them.”
Crofton lowers, reaching for a dual grip around Braddock’s braincase. She pulls up an anxious Kat to push her advantage, when the Quake’s right set of talons flashes and she scrapes them across the eyes of the challenger. Heather howls as she spins away from the deplorable cheat.
As Crofton staggers blindly from her foe, rubbing furiously at her eyes, Kat uses the ropes behind her to pull to her feet and track her sightless prey.
In the Girl From Grapevine’s literal blind spot, Braddock rushes toward her adversary and throws her body into the back of Heather’s right knee, brutally clipping the Yellow Rose with a chop block that would register a 15-yard penalty on the football field.
The champ receives faint admonition from Castle and cheers from her flaxen-haired toady as she rises and hovers over a mewling Crofton. Heather pulls her injured wheel in close, carefully testing if she has any ligaments torn by gingerly extending and retracting. Kat tests the limb in her own way, stomping at the side of the joint, determined to leave Crofton a one-legged woman in an ‘ass kicking’ contest.
Not satisfied with trying to tear apart Heather’s right knee, The Brat adds every available piece of open real estate on the slender, sinewy, flaxen-haired fighter, Braddock stomping a Texas mudhole out of the Girl From Grapevine, attacking chest, abdomen and every limb. Heather curls into a protective ball from the abuse, Braddock only stopping to acknowledge the raft of boos coming from Heather’s posse.
The Brat lifts a balled fist to her right eye and feigns a rub for all the crybabies in the audience, drawing uncontrollable laughter from Bianca, who joins her boss in the mocking.
Braddock sinks both sets of nails into the wavy golden strands of the Lone Star Girl and yanks the tag champ and World challenger to her feet. Palms to shoulders, Kat shoves Heather to the ropes behind her foe and, when Crofton rebounds toward her, Braddock dips and scoops around the thighs of her rival, lifting Crofton high, then splitting the wickets of Miss Mustang with a cruel Inverted Atomic Drop, pounding Crofton’s crotch atop bended knee.
Inverted Atomic Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTY0_rFR4mE )
With agony filling the face of the Yellow Rose, Heather u-turns from the assault, hands burying between her thighs. Reaching the ropes, she leans heavily into them, as behind her, Braddock lowers into a crouch and motions the clueless Texan back toward her.
Kneading her privates into a state where she can manage a knock-kneed waddle, Heather pushes away from the cables and turns to find a charging Kat bearing down on her. There’s no time for defense as Braddock lowers the BOOM with a vicious spear, The Brat nearly cutting Heather in half with the spiteful tackle. The Cali Quake PLOWS through Crofton, folding the tag champ in half before depositing the Texan to the canvas, the blonde gutted.
Laid out, Crofton surrounds her roiling tummy with an arm while one hand lingers in the juncture of her lower limbs, Kat teaching the Lone Star Girl there’s a whole ‘nother level to reach the top of the singles’ game.
Passing on a pin attempt, Kat snatches a handful of her foe’s golden locks and ‘helps’ Crofton to a seated position. Braddock moves beside the champ and turns her ample backside to Heather’s mug. With the crowd offering The Brat a rare cheer for the treat she’s about to secondarily provide them, Kat bombards Crofton with potentially concussive collisions courtesy her Bratty Butt Bumpers.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Braddock plasters the challenger with a three-spot, the final getting an extra powerful swivel before blasting Heather to her right hip and shoulder when The Brat releases the mane of the Yellow Rose.
Kat slaps her booty to let the FAWNatics know where the fireplug blonde gets much of her power and some in the stands join Bianca in showing appreciation for the California Quake.
Braddock uses her boot sole to push Crofton flat to her back, then leaps above her target, laying out and CRUSHING Crofton beneath a simple but effective senton, bruising the challenger’s abdomen and driving the air from her foe’s body. Already set in a back press pin, Kat hooks both legs for a cradle and the uncontested title of the ‘One to Watch’ with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Miss Mustang bucks free of the predicament, kicking loose of Kat’s curled arm and flopping free, keeping her nearly shattered dream of Heather Two-Belts alive.
Leaping to her feet, Kat gets in the face of FAWN’s lead official, chest-bumping Castle, effectively turning him from Crofton’s location.
As she does, Simpson slides in under the bottom rope and points the legs of the Lone Star Girl toward the nearest corner. The flaxen-haired flunky kicks them wide, then hustles to the buckles. Knowing there’s no time to waste, Bianca only elevates to the middle ropes and vaults with her forehead leading the way.
Though it doesn’t pack the punch of The Big One, the infamous jobber shows she’s picking up a few skills from the presence of the World Champ, the flying headbutt to Heather’s kitty perfectly placed. Crofton sits bolt upright, hands burying in her crotch. Heather’s lips form a silent ‘O’ as she shoves a retreating Bianca out from her throbbing womanhood.
With the crowd jeering relentlessly, Simpson completes her task, rolling out of the ring and watching innocently as Kat finishes her argument with Castle. The Brat in blue booty huggers pushes past the ref and collects a pained and pliant Lone Star Girl.
Braddock hauls the limp dishrag that is the Yellow Rose to loose verticality and tugs her foe into a front facelock, throwing a lifeless arm of the challenger over her shoulders. With a grip of spandex on Crofton’s hip, The Brat easily ‘hups’ the docile Lone Star Girl into her lap, cradling beneath the Texan’s legs. With the posse silenced, knowing the fate awaiting Miss Mustang, Bianca watches with glee as Kat SPIKES the crown of Heather’s skull into the canvas with her Kat Nap.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nNeUWdGDSo )
With the Girl From Grapevine in an unconscious sprawl, there’s little left to the imagination and Braddock takes full advantage of the utter devastation by rising and placing a boot sole on the cleft of Heather’s bosom, raising both arms as Castle counts out the inevitable…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
Simpson takes a detour, strolling to the announcer’s table as she finishes verbalizing what’s obvious to all.
“Your winner and STILL FAWN WORLD CHAMPION…THE ONE TO WATCH…KAT BRADDOCK!”
Bianca snatches the stick from its owner, moves to the ring steps, travels up and slides through. With Nick holding one of The Brat’s arms high, Bianca shoves him away and takes his place, showing off her undeniable boss while handing the champ the microphone.
Kat grinds her boot into the spandex-sheathed gurls of the softly mewling Heather, then gives a stomp to her defeated foe’s ivory midriff, sending the Yellow Rose into a fit of coughs and moans.
“There’s only one future for FAWN and that means all of you and all the bytches in the back and that is the rolling thunder of the one and only California Quake!
“ME!”
For when jealousy reared its ugly head with The Brat, and Gladiatrix named not her but Heather Crofton as ‘The One to Watch’, Braddock subsequently demanded an opportunity to humiliate the Texan with the big belt on the line.
Lisa downright demanded the Yellow Rose set aside their first match as champs, knowing such a prospect would be not just career-changing, but life-changing.
And as the power pop of Tones and I’s Dance Monkey launches from FAWN Arena’s sound system, Heather can feel the butterflies swarming in her tummy. The match grandly titled ‘The Faces of the Future’ is very much the present.
The people pop to their feet, swaying as their raised arms flow from side to side. They’re joyous with the imminent arrival of the adorable Lone Star Girl, the bubbly blonde member of the champion Dream Team, the Girl from Grapevine filling their wholesomeness quotient in full.
( www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0hyYWKXF0Q )
From stage right, the fresh-faced grappler cheerily moves to center stage.
HEATHER CROFTON
Heather’s excitement and comfort in the spotlight is unmistakable, the babyface blonde bobbing in time with the catchy ditty.
On her lonesome at the champion’s demand, no Dream in sight, she’ll be working without a net with Kat’s lackey, Bianca Simpson, of course very much ready to accompany and assist the titleholder.
The Texan spins through a pirouette and waves excitedly at the delighted devotees, a vision in canary yellow.
The two-piece gear includes spandex boy-cut trunks and a cross-shoulder top, the side of the shorts includes a window of criss-crossed strips. The outfit is completed with white pads and boots.
( i.imgur.com/4SRiQzy.jpg ) (without the snorkel gear and in yellow)
The rookie offers a brawny double-bicep pose but with a smirking hint of understanding her guns are small caliber. She prances down the aisle, bouncing from side to side to slap hands.
In the last several strides, the cowgirl takes off in a sprint, sliding in under the bottom rope on her palms and knee pads. She pushes to her feet and waggles through several exuberant, hip-swiveling spins as her music slowly fades.
The Lone Star Girl backpedals to her corner as the ring announcer takes the opportunity to provide her introduction.
“Tonight’s next match is one fall with a 60-minute time limit and is for the FAWN World Championship. Fighting out of Grapevine, Texas. Standing 5’4” and weighing in at 122 pounds…Miss Mustang…and one member of the FAWN Tag Team champions…Heather Crofton!”
The effervescent flaxen-haired fighter leaps high, drops into a set of splits, then spins an invisible lasso above her head with a raised right hand. Heather pumps a first at the crowd, drawing an ovation that grows when she maneuvers to a ball, kips to her feet, and climbs to the middle ropes of her corner, shouting “Let’s go, y’all.”
She unsnaps her the tag belt from her waist and raises it high, safe in the knowledge it’s going nowhere and believing it will have a sibling soon enough.
Crofton drops to the canvas and hands over her hardware, ready to make history.
With the funhouse mirror image of Kat in the squared circle, a Richter scale rumble courses through the arena. The previous ovation changes to an earthquake-sized round of boos from the sellout throng, the masses knowing all too well what the tremor means.
The hatred rises to a crescendo when the speakers transition to Van Halen's ‘Beautiful Girls’. A barrage of pyrotechnics explodes from the rafters in time with the chords, the fiery white sparks illuminating the cavernous space in a momentarily blinding light.
Beautiful Girls (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9h2m06sFQ )
After the flash, in the light show’s place, is the ill-mannered, ass-kicking blonde Brat center stage. Her usual shit-eating ‘I’m the biggest bytch in town’ grin has returned, as has her World Championship, raised with both hands by her stooge, Bianca Simpson.
FAWN’s long-time Jobber Extraordinaire, leads the way down the ramp and aisle. Not that she’s at all competent as a combatant, but Bianca is dressed for battle in her simple red one-piece battle attire, in case the boss needs some physical support.
BIANCA SIMPSON
The curvy Quake strides toward the battleground in her new booty-blasting blue gear, the two-piece accentuating her curves both bottom and topside, the outfit including knee-high athletic socks, her boots traded in for sporty Chuck Taylors.
KAT BRADDOCK:
Kat’s gear (
and ( ).The once-upon-a-time beach fighter strides confidently to ringside, Simpson trying to shout down the TWO-time champions many detractors.
As the duo reach their destination, Kat directs Bianca to hand over her gold and sends the worker bee over to the announcer’s table as the man provides Braddock’s introduction.
“And her opponent. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The World Champion. The California Quake. KAT BRADDOCK!”
The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste reaching new heights as Braddock continues to hold the big belt for month after month.
Bianca snatches the amplifier from the man’s hand and brings it to Braddock on the apron’s edge. Simpson stretches the top and middle ropes wide for Kat to enter comfortably between.
Moving to the middle, barely acknowledging the stretching, bouncing challenger, Braddock draws the stick to parted lips.
“Shut your holes you mouth-breathers!”
The FAWNatics are not in the mood to oblige and force Braddock to shout over them.
“Let me address the literal and figurative yellow journalism of Gladiatrix naming that as the face of the future and the one to watch.”
The champ motions to Heather without bothering to look in her direction.
“I’m not only the present, but I’m the only future this place and you people are ever going to know. I’m taking special pleasure in proving that tonight with this little semi-champion.”
Kat turns to her challenger.
“Girl, after I humiliate you tonight, just pray I don’t use Bianca to take the tag belts off you and your old maid of a partner.”
Braddock hands the microphone to said flunky and moves to her corner, covered from any shenanigans by Simpson.
As Bianca take her post on the outside with each valuable possession, the bell brings the World Title contest to order.
With the momentary blip of losing and regaining the World title to newly signed Casey Newsome behind her, Braddock incessantly refusing to provide the bigger brunette a rematch of the rematch, the Cali Quake emerges from her corner appearing as confident as ever.
On the opposite side, the Yellow Rose brims with her own belief, having become a tag champion the month before. Together, the proclaimed faces of FAWN’s future circle each other, perhaps equally knowing the top of the mountain awaits, and at such an early age.
Hands raised and fingers wriggling, they throw their bodies toward each other and enter a collar-and-elbow tie-up. While Heather’s slightly taller, the two lightweights are close enough in size neither can take control without working for the leverage.
They dance around the ring, trying to find an opening and slowly Crofton begins forcing the champ into a backpedal to the corner behind her. A few feet removed, Kat shifts her weight and balance, and it’s the Girl from Grapevine who has her back feeling the buckles. Braddock forces her right forearm under Crofton’s chin, shoving Heather’s head back, while disregarding lead referee Nick Castle’s complaints.
When he starts to count, The Brat releases and steps back, arms raised high.
“The next generation has to do things the right way, right Heather?” Kat asks.
The Lone Star Girl is suspicious and with good reason, as Braddock surges forward with a bytch slap aimed for the Texan’s left cheek. Heather dips beneath and pulls Kat into take her place tight to the corner.
It’s now Crofton ignoring Castle’s pleas as she loads a big right forearm shiver and sends it at the titleholder’s jaw. But the Beach Bytch sneaks under and shoves Crofton back to her original space, then lowers her sights. There’s no avoiding the raised knee Kat DRIVES into Heather’s navel, doubling the Yellow Rose at the waist while lifting her foe to tiptoes. Crofton’s eyes bulge from being impaled, as a loud exhale escapes her lips.
Before Nick can start another count, Kat kicks her fellow blonde’s legs out from under her, Heather landing on her taut tush, stems extended in front of her. Immediately, the indignant Braddock stomps away at Crofton’s chest, working Heather into a Texas-sized mudhole.
With the Lone Star Girl pacified, a snarling Kat jogs to the opposite corner, makes a u-turn and sprints at her lowered target. Taking off from several feet out, the Quake launches and twists 120 degrees to land a hip/butt blast to Heather’s face, the challenger’s noggin whiplashing away from the impact. The crowd groans from the scene, concerned Braddock gained an early edge.
On the sidelines, Bianca is all smiles, applauding her boss and unsuccessfully trying to get others to join her. A jovial Kat walks away from the flaxen-haired wreckage she wrought, grabbing Castle by a shirt sleeve as she discusses if there are any special rules for a Faces of the Future match. As she does, Simpson slinks around a corner and wraps her right arm around the throat of the dazed Texan, Heather flails wildly as her windpipe is compressed, the infamous jobber showing she’s good at something.
Bianca chokes the life from her superior’s adversary for a good five seconds before releasing and, with the match rules now clarified, Braddock pushes past Nick to get back at her foe.
Grabbing a wrist of the sagging, red-faced Heather, Braddock violently yanks the ‘One to Watch’ to her feet and NAILS Crofton with a stereo pair of windmill slaps to the blonde’s breasts. The Lone Star Girl winces after the echoing impact, flinching away from the champ, but not far enough to escape her control.
Bullying Heather deep into the ropes midway down the ring, The Brat heaves her counterpart out of the cables with an Irish Whip and follows to center stage. Flying across the canvas, Crofton is on a collision course after her rebound. The curvy, vertically-challenged champion scoops Heather off the canvas under her pert backside, pivots and POUNDS each and every vertebrae of the Yellow Rose into the deck with a brutal Spinebuster.
Spinebuster ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=vX25eihTDN0 ) :22
With the flattened would-be ‘Heather Two-Belts’ at her feet in a starfish, Braddock points down at the semi-conscious Crofton, shouting expletives and that there’s only one future, with every ensuing year to be Kat’s year.
The former beach fighter, plucked from obscurity by the since dispatched Chrissy Daniel, plants a boot sole on the cleft of Heather’s bosom, raising an arm high under the jeers of a profoundly disappointed set of FAWNatics.
Castle dutifully slaps the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Crofton shoves a shoulder up, Braddock stumbling a step before regaining her balance but not her composure. Instead, the enraged Brat stomps a more viscous mudhole out of the defenseless Heather, the Girl from Grapevine collapsing into a fetal ball in protection.
“Take your sorry ass back to the tag division where the old hag can protect you,” Kat insists.
The Brat batters the Yellow Rose out of her ball and sinks her nails into the thin yellow spandex covering the challenger’s chest. Using Crofton’s tits as handles, Kat RIPS a howling Heather to her feet via the gouging breast claws, then releases and buggywhips her frame with a European Uppercut under the chin of the challenger.
The Texan staggers in a backpedal to the corner Bianca inhabits below. Braddock offers the lackey some instruction, then hustles to the far corner, turns and zooms toward the Lone Star Girl. Heather tries to evacuate, but Simpson, as stealthily as possible, wraps an arm around Crofton’s ankle and the flaxen-haired fireplug arrives with an avalanche splash that brings as much impact to the faltering Texan as any could in the sub-125 game.
The dominant Kat bounces away from the collision with grin firmly planted and Bianca releases her grip. Receiving a tardy warning from Castle, a smushed Yellow Rose totters out toward the middle, making it several steps before the full effect of being CRUSHED by Kat takes its toll. Crofton takes a header to the deck, ending face down and unmoving, clearly out of her league with the rampaging California Quake.
Braddock dramatically wipes her hands as if her job at ‘March to War’ is nearly complete.
Kat rolls Heather to her back with a shove from her boot, then grabs the wrists of the demolished Lone Star Girl and drags Crofton in front of the nearest corner, the Girl from Grapevine positioned so her legs are pointed at the buckles.
“She’s already learned. Now you will too,” Braddock shouts to the front rows.
Kat kicks Heather’s legs wide, so they’re in a vulnerable ‘V’, then trudges to the corner, climbing and turning to face her target. Leaping from on high, Braddock’s arms are pinned to her sides, so she leads with her noggin, The Big One (head butt from the top) going to rock more than the San Andreas fault but the Lone Star Girl’s available crotch.
Thankfully for anyone hoping for a competitive match, Heather butt-scoots backwards of the kitty-blasting missile and a wide-eyed Braddock literally faceplants into the thinly sheathed floorboards.
With Braddock shell-shocked between her calves, Crofton slithers forward, lifts the head of the dazed Kat and lays it between the top of her upper thighs. She wraps the thin but sinewy muscles around the captured cranium. Heather presses up on her palms, cinching and squeezing her head scissors tight until The Brat’s face takes on a rosy hue.
Braddock’s palms press against the thin, but sinewy thighs of her challenger, then slip inside the lower limbs as Kat tries to pry herself loose from the predicament. But the Yellow Rose clamps even more forcefully and the Cali Quake finds the effort useless.
Her features moving from pink to purple, a desperate Braddock rises to her knees and shimmies forward, managing to stack Crofton on her shoulders for the…
ONE…
TWO…
Heather surrenders her leggy vice grip around Kat’s noggin to break free from the pin and roll a shoulder off the canvas. The Lone Star Girl hops to her feet, beating the champ there by an important second or two. It’s enough time for the Girl From Grapevine to load up a Texas-sized European Uppercut and THUMP it under the chin of her fellow future of FAWN when she rises.
Kat staggers into a backpedal from the blow, her arms pinwheeling to keep her upright.
Surging forward, Heather adds a crisp dropkick to Kat’s chest and the champ is sent stumbling to the ropes behind her. Braddock’s arms wrap around the top rope to keep her upright. But when Crofton kips to her feet and NAILS Braddock with a follow-up clothesline across the clavicle, The Brat is sent backflipping over the cables. She tumbles off the apron, CRASHING to the floor below.
Ending in a pool at the base of the ring, a glassy-eyed Kat props on her palms, the FAWNatics roaring their approval for Heather grasping the momentum but showing concern when the Yellow Rose follows Braddock out of the ring.
Crofton drops next to the puddled titleholder, puts the fear of God in Bianca with a raised fist, Simpson scurrying around a corner, then sinks her fingers into each trapezius, forcing a wincing Kat up with claws digging into Braddock’s shoulders. Backing the Quake against with the apron’s edge, Heather lifts the fans’ spirits further with a cheeky Love Tap, Crofton lighting up Kat’s cleavage with a double-barreled overhand slap to the champ’s gurls.
Hoots and hollers from the Texan’s posse accompany a yelping Braddock as she turns from her challenger, stumbling away while covering her bosom with both arms, features etched in pain.
“You’re gonna…”
The Lone Star Girl cuts off Braddock’s threat by snatching Kat’s golden mane, then SLAMMING Braddock’s forehead into the apron’s edge. The Brat whiplashes from the impact, stepping in fencepost holes as she continues to try and build space between her and her rampaging contender.
Heather continues to track her pernicious prey while keeping one eye on her stunning stooge, walking and waving to her adoring admirers, enjoying every second of the control and accompanying adulation.
“I’m gonna what?” Crofton asks as she grabs her foe’s right wrist and shoulder. “Be the first simultaneous World and Tag champ?”
As the Girl From Grapevine delivers her verbal jab, Braddock twists out of Heather’s grasp and drives a raised knee DEEP into Heather’s navel, doubling the bug-eyed challenger at the waist, a great exhale escaping Crofton’s lips. Kat cups a palm under Heather’s chin, lifting her foe’s head so the two flaxen-haired fighters are nose to nose.
“You’re gonna regret pretending you’re anything but a side show to the real ONE TO WATCH!”
Kat digs her claws into both shoulders to steady Crofton in front of her, pulling Heather out of her crouch, then POUNDS her skull into the cleft of the Lone Star Girl’s bosom, delivering a brutal Heart Butt, the champ’s version of a Heart Punch, to Crofton’s ticker. The Texan’s legs turn to jelly as her eyes roll white, the heart of the Yellow Rose skipping a beat. She collapses into Kat’s arms, the crowd silenced by the terrible and tenacious Cali Quake.
Braddock stuffs her challenger back into the ring, rolling her under the bottom rope. She turns to the FAWNatics and flashes them a double-bird, reigniting the crowd’s ire toward their World Champion.
Chuckling, Kat turns back to the ring’s contents, Castle counting, a dazed Crofton nevertheless pushing up to her haunches.
“Time to show this bytch who the present AND the future really is.”
Instead of following Crofton’s path back in, Braddock gives the obsequious Bianca a high-five and climbs to the apron. She moves to the nearest corner, ascending it from the outside. Kat reaches a penthouse stance atop the ropes on either side of the buckle when Heather springs to life and throws her body into the cables to the champ’s left. Thrown off balance by the shimmy of her perch, Braddock collapses to a pained seat atop the uppermost padding.
The Lone Star Girl quickly snatches Kat’s cranium in a front facelock and pulls away from the corner, extending the frame of the fireplug blonde until only Kat’s hooked ankles remain on the top strand. With the crowd returning to its thunderous support, Heather lays out and brutally SPIKES Kat’s braincase into the thinly-sheathed floorboards with a gawd awful Texas Danger DDT.
Corner DDT ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g5gvN2X9wE ) :05
In a headstand for a split-second, a limp Kat flops over to her chest, an unconscious single file of beaten champion. With the roof about to be blown off, Heather turns and layers her sweat-soaked body atop the similarly sheened remains of The Brat, hooking both lifeless legs for the…
ONE…
TWO…
…Braddock’s shoulders remain down for the three, but a confused Yellow Rose hears no third slap. The beloved babyface spins her view to Castle who in turn points to Braddock’s slightly extended left arm. At the end, the champ’s palm is wrapped loosely around the bottom rope, the Cali Quake rocked to her core but still with the innate ability to survive the worst of disasters, though if Nick had been more observant, he’d have seen Simpson with a timely assist.
With the FAWNatics booing Castle about having their dream temporarily torn away, Crofton lets Braddock’s motionless stems fall to the deck. The challenger pushes to her feet, sweeping her golden locks off her face and sighing deeply. So close. But more work to do.
Crofton grabs Braddock by the ankles and yanks a desperate Kat from her grip on the ropes. With the champ removed from them, Heather transfers to Kat’s wrists and drags the deadweight to the corner farthest from Bianca, propping The Brat in a seat against the bottom buckle.
With a languid Braddock lounging, head drooping, the Girl From Grapevine hustles to the opposite buckles, waves at a fretting Simpson and u-turns for a run at the shellshocked titleholder. The Lone Star Girl speeds into a full sprint and leaps from several feet out, collapsing into a tuck position and PLOWING her knees and shins into Kat’s chest with a missile-like meteora that ROCKS the usually sturdy if vertically-challenged champ.
Sent further into a coma-like state, Braddock offers no resistance as Heather, amidst her second wind, yanks the carcass of the Quake several feet removed from the buckles and lays her just so, perpendicular to her challenger’s future launch pad.
With Kat’s body in a vulnerable starfish, Crofton strides to the corner and climbs, stopping to pump her first to the indulgent and affectionate crowd. Reaching the top, the potential ‘One To Watch’ turns to face her target. She lifts her arms high, dropping into a slight crouch, then takes to the sky like few can. The Lone Star Girl vaults into the stratosphere, flipping through the full 450 of her ‘Don’t Mess With Texas’ splash.
Don’t Mess With Texas ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJlgiClk4p4 )
But before Heather can land and force the remaining fight from Braddock, Kat gets her knees up and skewers the tummy of the Yellow Rose. As the FAWNatics groan in sympathy, Heather flops away from the catastrophic collision, hugging her midriff as if she’s trying to keep internal organs in place, gasping for air, eyes bulging.
Ending on her back not far from a spent Kat, a gutted Heather shifts from side to side, moaning and retching, embracing her bruised belly, no doubt wondering how things could have gone so terribly wrong.
Trying to convince themselves this isn’t some horrible turning point, the masses give both young FAWN pillars their flowers, taking turns chanting “THIS…IS…AWESOME!” and “FIGHT…FOREVER!” in turn while the battered but indomitable women struggle through their infirmities.
Champ and challenger slowly roll to all fours, Kat and Heather staring daggers, clearly worn but unrelenting. They motion to the other, daring their counterpart to rise and come get them. With the crowd providing an ovation for both, the Cali beach girl and the Texas cowgirl ascend to stooped feet. They reflexively fashion their frames into expectant crouches and throw their nubile frames at one another, slamming together in a collar-and-elbow.
The duo fight for leverage for a few seconds before Crofton slickly slides out of the tie-up, sweeps behind Braddock, then snakes her arms up and around those of Kat. She laces her fingers together behind The Brat’s neck, capturing her adversary in a full nelson. The Yellow Rose rattles the Cali Quake from side to side, trying to scramble her foe’s senses and reestablish control of the match she seemed to lose with her mess of a Mess.
With Kat jangled, Crofton releases her foe and spins her fellow lightweight in a 180 with a grip on Braddock’s left shoulder. Dipping, the Yellow Rose wraps her arms around the waist of the champ and heaves The Brat up and over with a crisp belly-to-belly suplex.
Belly-to-belly suplex ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HYdCwrUYXQ )
The momentum of the collision with the canvas sends Braddock to a seated position as Heather turns to view the damage. Scrambling to her feet, the Lone Star Girl surges to her sitting counterpart and soccer kicks Kat against the base of her spine. The plush former beach fighter arches in anguish from the attack, Kat’s features twisted in pain.
The champ spins on her cheeks to get the Texan in front of her, then butt-scoots to the buckles behind, waving off another attack, palms raised plaintively.
“There’s room enough for both of us, Heather,” Kat pleads. “We can both be the faces of the future. I’ll give you the fans. I don’t want them.”
Crofton lowers, reaching for a dual grip around Braddock’s braincase. She pulls up an anxious Kat to push her advantage, when the Quake’s right set of talons flashes and she scrapes them across the eyes of the challenger. Heather howls as she spins away from the deplorable cheat.
As Crofton staggers blindly from her foe, rubbing furiously at her eyes, Kat uses the ropes behind her to pull to her feet and track her sightless prey.
In the Girl From Grapevine’s literal blind spot, Braddock rushes toward her adversary and throws her body into the back of Heather’s right knee, brutally clipping the Yellow Rose with a chop block that would register a 15-yard penalty on the football field.
The champ receives faint admonition from Castle and cheers from her flaxen-haired toady as she rises and hovers over a mewling Crofton. Heather pulls her injured wheel in close, carefully testing if she has any ligaments torn by gingerly extending and retracting. Kat tests the limb in her own way, stomping at the side of the joint, determined to leave Crofton a one-legged woman in an ‘ass kicking’ contest.
Not satisfied with trying to tear apart Heather’s right knee, The Brat adds every available piece of open real estate on the slender, sinewy, flaxen-haired fighter, Braddock stomping a Texas mudhole out of the Girl From Grapevine, attacking chest, abdomen and every limb. Heather curls into a protective ball from the abuse, Braddock only stopping to acknowledge the raft of boos coming from Heather’s posse.
The Brat lifts a balled fist to her right eye and feigns a rub for all the crybabies in the audience, drawing uncontrollable laughter from Bianca, who joins her boss in the mocking.
Braddock sinks both sets of nails into the wavy golden strands of the Lone Star Girl and yanks the tag champ and World challenger to her feet. Palms to shoulders, Kat shoves Heather to the ropes behind her foe and, when Crofton rebounds toward her, Braddock dips and scoops around the thighs of her rival, lifting Crofton high, then splitting the wickets of Miss Mustang with a cruel Inverted Atomic Drop, pounding Crofton’s crotch atop bended knee.
Inverted Atomic Drop ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTY0_rFR4mE )
With agony filling the face of the Yellow Rose, Heather u-turns from the assault, hands burying between her thighs. Reaching the ropes, she leans heavily into them, as behind her, Braddock lowers into a crouch and motions the clueless Texan back toward her.
Kneading her privates into a state where she can manage a knock-kneed waddle, Heather pushes away from the cables and turns to find a charging Kat bearing down on her. There’s no time for defense as Braddock lowers the BOOM with a vicious spear, The Brat nearly cutting Heather in half with the spiteful tackle. The Cali Quake PLOWS through Crofton, folding the tag champ in half before depositing the Texan to the canvas, the blonde gutted.
Laid out, Crofton surrounds her roiling tummy with an arm while one hand lingers in the juncture of her lower limbs, Kat teaching the Lone Star Girl there’s a whole ‘nother level to reach the top of the singles’ game.
Passing on a pin attempt, Kat snatches a handful of her foe’s golden locks and ‘helps’ Crofton to a seated position. Braddock moves beside the champ and turns her ample backside to Heather’s mug. With the crowd offering The Brat a rare cheer for the treat she’s about to secondarily provide them, Kat bombards Crofton with potentially concussive collisions courtesy her Bratty Butt Bumpers.
Bratty Butt Bumpers ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg )
Braddock plasters the challenger with a three-spot, the final getting an extra powerful swivel before blasting Heather to her right hip and shoulder when The Brat releases the mane of the Yellow Rose.
Kat slaps her booty to let the FAWNatics know where the fireplug blonde gets much of her power and some in the stands join Bianca in showing appreciation for the California Quake.
Braddock uses her boot sole to push Crofton flat to her back, then leaps above her target, laying out and CRUSHING Crofton beneath a simple but effective senton, bruising the challenger’s abdomen and driving the air from her foe’s body. Already set in a back press pin, Kat hooks both legs for a cradle and the uncontested title of the ‘One to Watch’ with the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOO!
Miss Mustang bucks free of the predicament, kicking loose of Kat’s curled arm and flopping free, keeping her nearly shattered dream of Heather Two-Belts alive.
Leaping to her feet, Kat gets in the face of FAWN’s lead official, chest-bumping Castle, effectively turning him from Crofton’s location.
As she does, Simpson slides in under the bottom rope and points the legs of the Lone Star Girl toward the nearest corner. The flaxen-haired flunky kicks them wide, then hustles to the buckles. Knowing there’s no time to waste, Bianca only elevates to the middle ropes and vaults with her forehead leading the way.
Though it doesn’t pack the punch of The Big One, the infamous jobber shows she’s picking up a few skills from the presence of the World Champ, the flying headbutt to Heather’s kitty perfectly placed. Crofton sits bolt upright, hands burying in her crotch. Heather’s lips form a silent ‘O’ as she shoves a retreating Bianca out from her throbbing womanhood.
With the crowd jeering relentlessly, Simpson completes her task, rolling out of the ring and watching innocently as Kat finishes her argument with Castle. The Brat in blue booty huggers pushes past the ref and collects a pained and pliant Lone Star Girl.
Braddock hauls the limp dishrag that is the Yellow Rose to loose verticality and tugs her foe into a front facelock, throwing a lifeless arm of the challenger over her shoulders. With a grip of spandex on Crofton’s hip, The Brat easily ‘hups’ the docile Lone Star Girl into her lap, cradling beneath the Texan’s legs. With the posse silenced, knowing the fate awaiting Miss Mustang, Bianca watches with glee as Kat SPIKES the crown of Heather’s skull into the canvas with her Kat Nap.
Kat Nap ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nNeUWdGDSo )
With the Girl From Grapevine in an unconscious sprawl, there’s little left to the imagination and Braddock takes full advantage of the utter devastation by rising and placing a boot sole on the cleft of Heather’s bosom, raising both arms as Castle counts out the inevitable…
ONE…
TWO…
THREEE!
Simpson takes a detour, strolling to the announcer’s table as she finishes verbalizing what’s obvious to all.
“Your winner and STILL FAWN WORLD CHAMPION…THE ONE TO WATCH…KAT BRADDOCK!”
Bianca snatches the stick from its owner, moves to the ring steps, travels up and slides through. With Nick holding one of The Brat’s arms high, Bianca shoves him away and takes his place, showing off her undeniable boss while handing the champ the microphone.
Kat grinds her boot into the spandex-sheathed gurls of the softly mewling Heather, then gives a stomp to her defeated foe’s ivory midriff, sending the Yellow Rose into a fit of coughs and moans.
“There’s only one future for FAWN and that means all of you and all the bytches in the back and that is the rolling thunder of the one and only California Quake!
“ME!”