Kat Braddock vs. Kylie Sanders (No Disqualifications)

With the World Title safely ensconced in the hands of more than arguably its best wrestler of all time, FAWNAMANIA readies to reach its crescendo with arguably the George Washington of its Mount Rushmore fighting in the grand finale.

Only one woman stands in the way of ruining what could be the biggest final Mania match party in history and, thankfully for Bethany Christian, the opponent is a woman who holds a wicked grudge against ole George, has dominated the World Title for the last two years, and has a well-earned reputation of legend killing.

A Richter scale rumble courses through the arena and an earthquake-sized round of boos follows quickly behind from the sellout throng.

The hatred rises in volume 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 Cali Quake center stage. Her usual shit-eating grin is gone, replaced by poorly hidden anger. Denied the rematch to claim her title for a third time, she pushed the boss into having her match be the capper on the card at least. Seemingly, it’s not been enough to assuage the sensibilities of The Brat.

The short, curvy Quake strides toward the squared circle in her 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 ( ).



Noticeable in her absence is the recently hospitalized Bianca Simpson. FAWN’s Jobber Extraordinaire turned proficient stooge had been fired with extreme prejudice at Slaybor Day by Braddock for failing to beat tonight’s foe, Kat then potentially ending her former lackey’s career with a vicious post-match beatdown.

The once-upon-a-time beach fighter now two-time FORMER World Champion strides indignantly to ringside, the Quake ignoring her many detractors.

Reaching the ring, Kat ascends the steps and moves midway down the hard cam side of the ring. She stares hazel lasers into the lens before swinging her way through the ropes and taking a similar stance center stage. She turns her head and nods to the ring announcer next to her. The nervous woman takes her cue.

“Tonight’s next match is scheduled for one fall and has NO TIME LIMIT.”

The jeers turn to cheers if only for a moment, though that moment becomes two when the announcer adds: …”and will be a NO DISQUALIFICATION MATCH.”

“First. From Newport Beach, California. Standing five feet two inches tall and weighing in at 123 pounds. The California Quake. KAT BRADDOCK!”

The arena echoes with enmity, the vocal and virulent distaste as strong as ever, the lack of gold in Braddock’s hands not lessening the animosity an iota. Kat snatches the stick from the announcer.

“Your beloved bytch is going to regret this night for the rest of her life, but I know you scum will forget about her by Tuesday.”

Kat stuffs the microphone back in the announcer’s chest and moves to her corner, badass in blue ready to wreak havoc in the biggest match on the biggest stage.

+++

Having earned her way into Mania with her Slaybor Day victory over Simpson, circumstances that often worked against the Hawkeye throughout much of her career have gone in her favor, the Pleasant Valley Princess promoted to the top of the card.

Who says sentimentality doesn’t have value?

However, in the ring, it would have none and Sanders steels herself for the heavy lifting ahead. Tonight would be a war as big as any she’s faced in the twenty plus years of her time in the organization. She’ll come out victorious, but not without scars.

From beyond the curtain, the glorious, melodious and upbeat Sixpence None The Richer’s ‘There She Goes’ sweeps through the arena and the Corps roars to its collective feet, a wave of love and nostalgia rushing over them. To see their reborn heroine in a Mania finale would be the memory of a lifetime and the FAWNatics act the part.

( www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMfXeuv4kZE )

The foremost FAWN original remaining pushes through and moves to center stage, Kylie absorbing the crowd’s adulation, smiling and waving, the sight of their redeemed favorite eliciting rekindled adoration in the direction of the silvery-bobbed beauty.

KYLIE SANDERS



Drawing on echoes of her original gear, Sanders sports a simple yellow-gold sports bra topside with black boy-cut shorts, black boots and pads. As she heads down the ramp, Ky cups a hand to an ear, enjoying the chants of ‘KY-LEE’ that overwhelm her accompaniment.

A beaming Sanders walks the aisle, happy to slap hands with her fans, gazing with delight at a poster proclaiming “The Pixie will work her magic for a Mania masterpiece!”.

Reaching the ring and climbing the steps, Ky takes a moment to gaze around the arena at the massive display of affection. There’s no place like Mania. And to finish the show in style at this stage of her career is a dream nearly beyond belief. Sanders salutes her supporters with a wave before slipping through the cables.

Once in, her appearance turns eminently more serious, a threat as figuratively large as any looms only a few steps away. The bobbed blonde warily turns to the hard cam for her intro as her music and the ovation fades, the announcer taking her cue.

“And her opponent. Hailing from Pleasant Valley, Iowa; standing 5 feet 4 inches and weighing in at 115 pounds, the Platinum Pixie…KYLIE SANDERS!”

The FAWNatics give one final roar, ready to support their beloved Girl Scout as Ky moves to her corner, has Kat’s earlier pat-down matched from head referee Nick Castle, and keeps herself limber with some rope-aided stretches.

Inspections finished, Castle retreated to mid-ring and glanced to Kylie. “Ready?”

Sanders nodded, but didn't take her eyes off the Cali Quake.

He turned to Kat. “Ready?”

“Just ring the bell, jerk-off.”

The ref refrained from rolling his eyes as he stepped back and threw a signal to the Timekeeper.

CLANG!

Already loud, the 'KY-LEE!' chants grew downright deafening as the Pleasant Valley Princess pushed off the buckles on a beeline for her curvaceous adversary.

Clearly disgusted by the ignorant, partisan crowd, Kat Braddock considered slipping through the ropes to force Sanders into retreat before she remembered that Castle was little more than an observer for the rest of the night. Sighing in irritation, she rolled her shoulders and tromped out of the corner, the little blonde bulldozer lowering her head and raising her fists as she closed in on the doddering relic of 'Mania's past. The distance between them quickly shrank to nothing and Sanders hunkered down low, the blonde Hawkeye coiling like a spring to launch at the former World Champion. Braddock saw this and set her feet before daring Ky to make her move with one brazenly beckoning fing—Kylie barely twitched and The Brat shifted gears by whipping a vile punt straight at her opponent's cro—NO!

The Platinum Pixie had anticipated just this sort of treachery and shocked Braddock by catching her ankle in both hands! Stepping back far enough to make the Quake hop after her, Sanders went up on tiptoe to stretch the captured limb up as high as it'd go, Kat cringing and snapping about the strain in her hamstring. “You better have a stronger strategy lined up, asshole.” the blonde grunted as she took a few swipes at the unperturbed Iowan. “Otherwise I'm going to tear you aparWHOAH!”

Kylie tugged Kat's leg to the left, then whipped it to the right full force to spin the Californian around in a wobbly pirouette! She'd just emerged from the far side when Sanders reared back and CRAAACKED Braddock across the mouth with whip-crack Bitch Slap!

Braddock stumbled hard, almost took a knee before she caught her balance. Right hand pressed to her stinging cheek, she regarded Kylie with blazing green eyes and hissed, “Who the fuck do you think you NNNNNGGGGGHHHH!”

Sheer pandemonium erupted in the seats (and in several different spots backstage) when the FAWN OG interrupted with a punt of her own, one that saw the toe of her shiny black boot THUMP the center of Kat's trunks!

Braddock went pigeon-toed and pale-faced at once, the incredulous Quake at a loss to explain just how it'd all gone so spectacularly wrong in such short ord—Sanders dipped down, slipped her right arm between those bowed legs and muscled Kat onto her shoulders as every single person on the other side of the guardrail leapt to their feet. Left arm cradled over the nape of Braddock's neck, Sanders treated her vulnerable burden to a single swift rotation before she shot up on tiptoe and laid out on her left hip to THAWHAM Kat down on the back of her head and shoulders!



PLEASANT VALLEY DRIVER:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=o96QDBujSZg



Pleasant Valley Driver, Kylie Sanders to Kat Braddock.

No hesitation from Ky after her finish connected barely thirty seconds after the opening bell, she pounced across the younger blonde's waist, hooked her arms around both knees and folded The Brat in half with a Back Press that pointed Braddock's buns to the rafters for a count of...



ONE...

TWO...

THRENOOOOOOOO!



Kat didn't actually kick out but she forced the veteran to abandon the pin by hooking her left hand into a claw and swiping it across Kylie's eyes at the last possible second! Massive disappointment from the Corps of course, but their mood improved quickly once they realized Ky was already rubbing the smudges out of her vision while Kat had barely made it to one knee.

“Huuuuhhhhh... who the fuck do you think you are, dammit?” Braddock hissed as she tried to ease the pounding in her skull. “I'm the future of this industry, you're nothing but AARRRGHH BITCH STOP! REF! REFFFFFFF!”

Kylie had not appreciated the attack on her peepers and she made her displeasure perfectly clear by stomping up onto the Californian's six and smecking both palms to the sides of Kat's noggin so she could gouge answering claws into the younger wrestler's eyes!

“I'm Kylie Sanders, brat.” the PVP explained as she jostled Braddock's head with several mean little shakes. “I've been a Lightweight Champion, a Tag Team Champion, an Intercontinental Champion, AND a World Champion. But perhaps most importantly, I'm the woman whose coattails you rode into another 'Mania Main Event. You're welcome, by the way.”

“THE HELL I DID!” Kat had managed to grab hold of the veteran's wrists and she pulled as best she could, but the gouging assault on her eyes robbed the effort of her usual strength. “NO ONE BUYS A TICKET TO SEE YOU WIN! YOU'VE BEEN FAWN'S BIGGEST LOSER SINCE DAY ONE, BUT EVEN AFTER ALL THOSE ASS BEATINGS EVERYONE KNOWS THAT NO ONE BEATS YOUR FLAT ASS LIKE MERRRGGGHHH!”

Still working the Quake's face like a part-time job, Ky got to her feet, went up on tiptoe, then dove down and in to DRILL the point of her right knee between Braddock's shoulders! One shot wasn't enough to make Kat relinquish her claws (if anything she squeezed Sanders' wrists a little tighter) so the Iowan returned to verticality and repeated the bludgeoning tactic two, three, four more times, the final forcing Braddock to abandon her grip in favor of tearing at empty air instead.

Switching over to a double fistful of hair immediately thereafter, Kylie forced Kat onto all fours, then stepped into position astride the younger wrestler's hips and hopped in place to THUMP the curve of her buns into the small of Braddock's back! Kat shuddered on the spot but didn't go down, in fact she steadied her arms and started crawling toward the ropes despite the weight of her rider. Sanders didn't try to stop the other blonde's progress but she certainly didn't make the journey any easier either. Hair-hold not withstanding, she only let Braddock make it a few feet before she stood up out of the mount and dropped down in a second heavy Butt Bomb for the protesting Brat! “Buuhhh...bony ass shit isn't gonna get it done, grandma!” Kat huffed defiantly even though the latest impact had almost buckled her legs. “And nothing, not that bony ass, not your idiot fans, and certainly not you, is gonna stop me from dishing out the beating of a lifetime before you leave this rinHHHRRRGGGHHH!”

Kylie snagged an even bigger hair-hold, then crouched down and sprang into the air, the veteran displaying an impressive vertical leap to deliver the heaviest Butt Bomb yet to Kat's vulnerable back! Braddock crumpled under the repeated pounding, the former World Champ stretched out flat on her tummy and chest with Sanders still riding high up top. For a moment Kylie contemplated releasing Kat's hair, then she remembered there was no strategic reason to do so thanks to the 'No DQ' stip. To that end she pressed Braddock's forehead to the canvas and began scrubbing it back and forth like she was trying to remove a particularly odious stain!

The Brat squealed and started swatting and clawing at Sanders' forearms again including one particularly nasty shot that scratched her from elbow to wrist. Frowning at the painful sting, she BWUNKED Braddock's head against the mat one more time, then abandoned the hair-hold to settle into a heavier seat on the small of the Californian's back.

“So are you actually going to do anything other than whine and moan tonight?” Kylie chided as she slipped her hands under the smaller blonde's biceps. “You sure were eager to fight after I'd been through a war with Bianca, she's better than you, by the way—”

“The FUCK she is!” Kat seethed at the mere notion of her bumbling former assistant being in any way superior. “She's an incompetent piece of shit, just like HHHRRRHHH leggo of my hair goddammit!”

Kylie had secured, then augmented her Full Nelson by snatching a handful of blonde locks before lacing her fingers together and she had no intention of complying with Braddock's demand. Instead she pulled the Nelson tight, rocked back on her heels and craaaaaaaaaaaanked up on the hold to put intense pressure on the Quake's lower back with her trusty Full Nelson Camel Clutch!



FULL NELSON CAMEL CLUTCH:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SduUDB03YkA



Impressed and a little concerned by the rapidly sharpening angle of his charge's spine, Nick Castle hurried over to the action and would've asked how Braddock was doing if Kylie hadn't shooed him away with a glance. “I was in the back when Sue tapped you out at Summer Swelter.” Sanders noted as she wrenched the top half of her hold back and forth. “You have no idea how many girls cheered when Castle raised Sue's hand. I think even Becky Clayton cracked a smile and you know how she is these—”

“They're all jealous!” Braddock couldn't get her hands on Kylie's hair so she settled for working her legs back and forth in this sort of shuffling scuttle that allowed obnoxiously slow progress toward the ropes. “Jealous because they know I'm twice the talent they'll ever be!”

“Nah, it was simpler than that.” Sanders countered. “It was nothing more than the joy that comes with watching a whiny BRAT finally get what she deserves. That's why we got the Main Event slot tonight, Kitty. Not because you're a champion, because you're not. Not because you're the baddest, because you're definitely not, but because you, of all the women I've wrestled in the course of more than twenty years have thee most supremely slappable face!”

“I'm gonna rip you apart.” Kat hissed as she continued the awkward shuffle toward the ropes. “Soon as I break this pansy-ass hold, I'm going to shred you into tiny, screaming piec—”

Sanders shifted from the Full Nelson to simply looping her left arm around the other blonde's biceps. The result was the same, though now she had a hand free to prove her most recent claim, which she did by delivering several stinging slaps to the Quake's cheeks!

The Brat flinched, her cheeks jumping with each echoing connection of palm to backside.

Her booty burning from a humiliating 'Mania spanking, Braddock managed to throw a shoulder back and THUNK it into Kylie’s ribs. Sanders swallowed the contact with a wince, but it’s enough to break her concentration on the Half Nelson.

Kat sat out of the grip and scooted on her tenderized tush to a corner. With the buckles behind her, the Cali Quake pulled to her feet. She stepped to the right and Ky cut off her path. Braddock tried the left and was stopped again. With the Brat’s standard avenues for escape closed, Braddock swung one leg through the ropes and tried to head for the hills.

The Platinum Pixie, having shown there’s a reason she not only agreed to but requested no DQs. Snatching the golden locks of the younger woman, the most accomplished of her generation of FAWN wrestlers, Kylie yanked Kat back in, then POUNDED Braddock’s forehead into the thin padding of the top buckle a full TEN TIMES! Joyously, the crowd counted along.

After the last, Ky swung the wobbly former beach fighter to face her. Kylie grabbed the middle ropes on either side and THREW a dipped right shoulder into the malleable midriff of the Cali Quake. Braddock’s folded deep between the top and middle cushions, one, two three times. Each, she’s doubled further, her green eyes bulging, huge exhales escaping her lips as they blastd open like bellows. Pulling out her invading shoulder, Sanders took a moment to enjoy her handiwork as Braddock seeped from between and stumbled away, arm swaddling her bruised belly.

“Don’t mean…”

The Brat took in a raspy breath as she used the top cable and her free hand to stagger away.

‘…shyt.”

Ky rolled her hazel peepers and strode after.

“Looks like it means shyt.”

The PVP swept a looping kick into the back of Kat’s right calf and the impact’s enough to take both legs out from under her, the more recent former champ plopping to her burning butt cheeks.

Kat stifled a grimace as best she could, dropped to her back, and rolled out under the bottom rope. But with the Quake still on the apron, the silvery-bobbed fan favorite of favorites sank her nails into Cali scalp yet again and worked her adversary to verticality, the cables between them, a harried Kat looking out on the Pixie’s adoring Corps.

Reaching blindly over a shoulder, The Brat surrounds Kylie’s noggin with a Three Quarter Facelock, then dropped to her derriere, taking the pain of landing on the hardest part of the mat to hot shot Ky’s throat across the top cable. Kylie whiplashes away from the impact, a soft groan making its way through the crowd, Kat having finally stymied their girl’s momentum.

Sanders grasped at her throat as she tried to work oxygen through her damaged windpipe.

On the outside, well aware there were no count outs tonight, a relieved Braddock slipped off the apron and swished air across her tanned backside with an open palm, trying to ignore the taunts of the 'Mania masses, each and every one seemingly dreaming of her demise.

Her ass air conditioned for a few moments, the short and curvy force of nature rolled back in. Kat popped to her feet, setting herself for Sanders, Ky wheeling in an arc toward her, the Pixie clueless of The Brat’s return to the squared circle.

Kat wound up with a right cross, but from out of nowhere, the Pleasant Valley Princess was ready with a blocking left forearm. The FAWN Original delivered right fist to jaw, rocking her fellow blonde. The former beach fighter tried to show off her pugilistic bona fides with return fire, but the veteran stood ready with more frustration for the Cali girl.

Sanders deflected the incoming and pushed the crown of her head into Braddock’s ample chest, sending a right-left-right combo THRUSTING into Kat’s Achilles’ tummy, pounding lightly tanned abs like she’s working a heavy bag. The Iowan forced Braddock into retreat, pressing her into a corner with another one-two to midsection.

With Kat reeling, Kylie scooped the flaxen-haired fireplug off her feet and placed her as if a sacrifice on a throne, horizontal across the middle ropes on either side of the buckles. A grinning Ky delivered a wicked open palm strike to the available abdomen, the CRAAACK drawing the requisite ‘WOOO’ from the Corps.

Kylie quickly climbed to the bottom cable and springs to deliver a pair of knees, DRIVING them into the weakening belly of The Brat, a groaning Kat sent splatting to the canvas where a ravenous Sanders stomped away on the soft spot, POUNDING boot leather into the mottled midriff.

With Braddock collapsing into a protective ball, routed by a Pixie looking in her prime, Ky took the opportunity to raise her arms high and wide for a brief celebration with her peeps.

Dipping, the Hawkeye snatched a wrist of her foe and tugs an overwhelmed Brat off the canvas to stooped feet.

“Wishing you had Bianca right now, aren’t you?” Kylie chuckled.

Sanders pivoted to send Braddock rocketing across the canvas with an Irish Whip. But the Cali Quake reversed and, instead, it’s a wide-eyed Ky who’s racing at full speed across the mat. A rotating PVP literally flew back-first into the buckles with a collision that shook the ring. A second later, the silvery-bobbed grappler in black-n-gold was CRUSHED under a tidal wave splash of blue and plush curves, Kat BURYING Ky, body to body.

Braddock bounced away from the impact and, as she did, the force of the Avalanche took a further toll, Sanders’ slender legs giving out as she plopped to her backside, legs extended, lounging against the bottom buckle in a stupor.

Tasting a turning point, The Brat hustled to the opposite corner, tagged the top, and turned to bear down on the suddenly haggard Hawkeye. Kat swiveled ninety degrees as she threw her frame at her 'Mania victim, NAILING Kylie’s noggin with a nasty Hip Check that put Sanders adjacent to Dream Street.

Finally feeling herself, Kat mustered the hint of a grin and backs dat ass up, sore or no, to stuff Kylie’s elfin features within the spandex-covered crack, Braddock using her glutes as a scrub brush of the Pixie’s features, then force-feeds ass cleavage to the squirming, flailing Sanders, Kylie ‘going under’ as her arms wave wildly.

“Now you’re going to see what you all REALLY came here for!” Braddock shouted. “Classic Kylie! Your girl treated like the dishrag she is!”

It’s The Brat’s turn to grab a wrist and pull the flagging Hawkeye off the deck. The curvy Quake bullied Ky halfway down the length of the ring, pushing her deep into the springy strands, then heaving her to the distant cables.

Braddock followed and sets up mid-ring for her adversary’s return.

Kat’s ready and waiting, plucking a staggering Sanders off the deck, scooping under the modest booty of the Platinum Pixie, lifting the veteran as high as she’s able, then SLAMMING Ky’s vertebrae into the deck with a nasty Spinebuster that left the legend rocked to her core, likely a Kylie-sized divot in the floorboards.



SPINEBUSTER:

www.youtube.com/shorts/h_8Vlj96PZc



Kneeling between Sanders’ spread limp legs, Braddock scooped behind each calf, then knee-walks forward, folding the flattened Pixie in a Jackknife Pin for the win with Castle’s count of…



ONE…

TWO…

THRNOOO!



Sanders was down but certainly not out as evidenced by the way she twisted out of Kat's bratty predicament with half a second to spare!

Far less thrilled by the veteran's persistence than the rest of the 'Mania throng, Braddock turned her attention to the Senior Official and started to raise a hand in protest before she stopped, a 'wait, why am I bothering with this shit?' sort of look crossing her face. Getting to her feet without so much as a word, Kat circled around behind Kylie (who'd just now made it to her hands and knees) and grabbed hold at each hip. Pushing back as far as she could, the pneumatic blonde went up on tiptoes, then lunged down and in, her right knee shooting forward to THWHUMP Sanders' trunks with what was either an oddly delivered Low Blow or a pinpoint shot to the Iowan's tailbone!

Whatever it was it must've hurt like hell because Kylie crumpled in on herself like someone had flipped a switch to 'off'. Delighted by her adversary's obvious anguish, Braddock slapped Sanders' glutes with both hands, then gave 'em a condescending squeeze before shoveling her onto her back. “Gimme those.” Kat said of her opponent's ankles, both of which were within easy reach of the Brat's hands since Ky had turtled up to protect her undercarriage. Seizing the right in both hands, she jerked that leg out full length, then shifted her own footing so she could pin it to the deck beneath her left boot. With that done she glommed onto Sanders' left ankle and got to her feet whereupon reaching she leaned forward to streeeeeeeeeeeeetch the Platinum Pixie's vulnerable stems in a simple albeit agonizing Wishbone!

Kylie groaned and beat an angry fist against the mat before waggling a finger 'no, no, no' in case Castle thought she might actually consider ceding the match to such base tactics. She was about to reinforce this denial with words when Braddock shifted her grip on the veteran's left foot so she could wrench her ankle back and forth like she was trying to worry the lid off of a particularly stubborn jar! “Give it up, old woman!” Kat demanded after ten seconds of rough treatment brought plenty of wriggles and groans but no actual surrender. “I've got you right where I want you, so tap that mat right now and maybe you'll be able to make it to Bingo tomorrow without the aid of a walk—”

Kat's mouth snapped shut while the FAWNatics roared in abject delight when the PVP raised dual middle fingers in the direction of the former World Champion!

“Thuuuu... thought Chrissy would've taught you better, short-stuff.” Ky huffed over the thunderous din. “You can't talk me into a submission, but you would be dumb enough to trYYYEERRRRGGHHH GAAAAAHHHHHD!”

Braddock wasn't about to let anyone besmirch her intelligence, especially not a fragile dustbin collectible like Kylie freakin' Sanders. To that end she drew back her right foot and snapped a quick, merciless Toe Kick into the juncture of her opponent's thighs!

“Say another word and I'll do it again!” Kat barked as the hurtin' Hawkeye shoved the Brat's foot away to better protect her vulnerable center. “I mean it you dusty old bitch, open your mouth one more time and I'll kick you so hard you'll taste boot pol—”

Kylie only had the strength for one middle finger this time, yet the act of defiance was more than enough to set the fans cheering from the front row all the way to the nosebleed seats!

It was that unanimous, unrestrained joy that raised spots of furious red on the cheeks of Kat Braddock. She could throw middle fingers as well as the next chick and when she did they got a suitably raucous reaction even though they were often pointed in the crowd's direction.

But this bitch? This old, used up, washed out, piece of dinosaur shit bitch could point those same upraised fingers at her, the greatest wrestler of this generation, not to mention the new millennium and these... these fuckin' people roared like she wasn't about to ruin this old hag's life? Practically boiling by the end of this thought, the Cali Quake drew back her foot for another Toe Kick and when Sanders raised her own hands to defend she shifted angles and STOMPED away at the Iowan's mitts until she was forced to pull them away. Then she reared back and THUMPED another kick into Sanders' womanhood, Braddock making certain to grrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiind the point of her boot against that defenseless lycra.

“No DQ, remember, you dumb shit?” Braddock was back to twisting the Pixie's ankle while she leaned forward into the Wishbone. “Means I can kick that scatch and dent box of yours all night long and no one's gonna stop m—”

“You kick like a scared kid working her first dark match.” Sanders hissed. “And that's not nearly enough to get the job done at 'Mania, cutieEEERRRRGGGHHHHH!”

Bellowing with rage over the brazen disrespect, Kat pulled her left foot from Ky's right ankle so she could yank both limbs up in a vulnerable 'V'. Just like that she went up on tiptoes and dropped to her knees, Kat whipping her noggin into Sanders' groin with a nauseating Headbutt!

The PVP shuddered from stem to stern and curled up in a tight vulnerable ball that Kat rudely cracked open so she could climb aboard in a domineering Double Leg Grapevine, the Cali Quake just smothering Sanders in a velvet avalanche good for the...



ONE...

TWO...

THR—“OOOOOOWWWWWW BITCH!”



Braddock broke the cover of her own volition and scrambled away at top speed with one hand pressed to the side of her neck, all the better to cover the angry red crescent left by the other blonde's gnashing teeth! “Oh, you want to bite me now?” Kat hissed once the pain started to subside. “Must be really fuckin' eager to splurge on some next gen dentures because I'm gonna knock your teeth down your goddamned thro—”

“Christ, do you ever shut up? Sanders rasped from her perch on one knee. “No wonder Bianca lost her mind after a year trailing in your wake. Everything out of your mouth is just one steady stream of grandiose, self delusional bullshit, I'd be ready to tear my hair out after ten minutes if it wasn't so freakin' shorEEERRRRRGGGHHHHHH!”

Braddock pounced on the penitent Pixie and though she really wanted to tear those platinum locks out by the fistful they were indeed far too short for such treatment so The Brat settled for twisting her rival's ears instead!

“Stand up!” Kat barked as she jerked Sanders' head back and forth. “Stand the fuck up right now!” Ky certainly didn't want to, but she didn't have much choice in the matter with Kat threatening to tear her ears clean off. On her feet shortly thereafter, the tenacious Hawkeye balled both hands into fists and delivered a few punches to Braddock's midsection but the rampaging Quake barely felt 'em. Indeed Sanders had barely steadied her footing when Kat lunged forward and THWHUNKED a Headbutt between her eyes!

Kylie's slender stems buckled with the blow and she would've collapsed to her knees if Braddock hadn't switched over to a Waistlock and reeled her into a Bear Hug that cruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssshed the PVP against her younger foe's indomitable curves!

“Just who do you think you are, mouthing off to me like we belong in the same ring together?” Braddock sneered as she began shaking Sanders like a rag roll within the confines of the Hug. “I'm a two time World Champion! I'm going to carry this promotion on my back for the next two decades and YOU? You were a loser from day one! Your only relevance stems from the looooooooooooong list of women that have kicked your flat ass and as great as some of them were, NONE OF 'EM are good enough to carry my bagsSSAAAAARRRHHHHHH FAAAAAAHHHK!”

Wriggling out of the Hug was currently impossible so Kylie made the best of a bad situation by snuggling in close enough to chomp down on the soft flesh just below Braddock's right ear!

Howling in equal parts fury and pain, The Brat made no effort to draw away from the gnawing, instead she dipped her knees and shot up on tiptoe to muscle Sanders off her feet. From there she dropped to one knee, the brutal blonde once again THUMPING Sanders' trunks, this time with an Inverted Atomic Drop.

She'd expected Kylie to drop to her butt in a sniveling pile so of course the bow-legged bitch just stumbled backward with both hands pressed to her crotch. Not about to let her go that easy, Kat stepped after the veteran and reached out to pinch her chin between thumb and forefinger. “You're not on my level, Sanders.” she hissed. “Never have been. Never will be.”

With that she let loose and whipped around, Braddock taking off like a shot for the ropes on her six. She was bearing down on Kylie within heartbeats, the massed FAWNatics already cringing in their seats as the Cali Quake got low and shot off her back foot for a Spear aimed straight for San—NO!

Kylie didn't actually get out of the way, rather she caught a double handful of the younger blonde's long locks as she roared in and simply leapt backward, Sanders throwing her legs up and out in a 'V' which not only allowed her to avoid the Spear but also ensure she was in full control of Kat's head when she dropped to a seat and THWHONKED her forehead against the canvas-sheathed plywood with a huge Sit-Out Facebuster!



SIT-OUT FACEBUSTER @ 00:18

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlwoOiZENCg



Braddock bounced hard and would've tumbled onto her back if Sanders hadn't put both hands on the prone wrestler's shoulders and pushed down to keep her stretched out flat on her face. Understandably ashen and more than a little tender after the rough treatment she'd recently endured, Ky swallowed the pain as best she could as she pushed onto her knees and crawled forward over her foe until she could take a heavy seat on the small of Braddock's back. Knees snug against Kat's thighs, Ky raised one clenched claw fist high into the air, but when the Corps shouted 'FARM...HAND!' she popped an index finger and waggled it 'no, no, no!'

“No DQ, right?” she said with a weary smirk. “Let's give Kitty a 'Mania she won't ever forget.” On that intriguing note she grabbed Kat's wrists one in each hand, then shifted them both to her left so she could grab hold of The Brat's waistband with her right. Lifting rather than pulling the stretchy material, Sanders stuffed her opponent's hands into the pocket she'd created one at a time so that when she released the Quake's waistband Kat's hands were sticking out of the leg holes, her own togs turned into makeshift restraints.

Pleased with her work thus far, the Pleasant Valley Princess put both hands on her hips and murmured, “Could still be better.”

'Better' was still on her lips when she grabbed a double fistful of lycra and yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanked a good two thirds of Kat's trunks out of sight with a vindictive wedgie! Braddock shrieked and rocked from side to side, but Sanders' mount, the trunks trap and the wedgie all conspired to keep her glued to the deck. She was still kicking and squirming when Ky lifted her right hand and formed it into a talon.

FARM...HAND! the FAWNatics bellowed in unison.

Sanders realized the squirming fingers of Braddock’s inhibited hands were unintentionally covering her favorite sweetspot. The PVP nudged her rival’s left hand back under the blue lycra and sank her nails DEEP into the flesh of Kat’s left thigh, driving the digits in just under the curve of Braddock’s rounded gluteus.

Expertly clawing her way into muscle and the bundle of nerves for which the Pixie knew just the right spot, Ky started a fire running down The Brat’s lower limb. Kat’s stem tightened under the abuse, then began spasming as Braddock could no longer ignore the waves of pain emanating from her foe’s Farm Hand.

Howling, a thrashing Kat worked the left hand free from the booty-blasting constraint of her trunks. She sank the nails into her scalp, pulling her golden locks to spread the anguish.

Showing the wear from Ky’s infamous Hammy Clamp, Braddock nonsensically claimed Sanders was cheating, drawing an eye roll from Castle and a giggle from the Hawkeye.

“She can’t use my gear like a straightjacket, damn it!” Braddock complained while trying to loose her right arm from the leg hole of her tight azure togs.

The protest didn't stop the Platinum Pixie from placing her left hand atop her right, then leaning forward to push the curled fingers further into the flesh, Kat yelping from the increased torture.

“Where’s all the badass chatter, tough girl?” Kylie huffs. “You keep telling me I’m over the hill, yet you’re the one pleading for help. But fine.”

Apparently showing The Brat a courtesy, she slipped the remaining trapped limb out of its confinement, ONLY TO DOUBLE UP WITH A SECOND FARM HAND!

Having never seen a set of Hands applied, the 'Mania masses collectively lost their shyt. Tonight’s finale was turning from amazing to historic with each passing moment.

Kat put her freed fingers to better use than tugging her own flowing mane. Braddock dug them into the canvas instead and, in agonizingly slow fashion, pulled her way to the ropes, grabbing hold of the bottom cable.

“Lemme goAHHHHHH!” she wailed.

“I mean,” Nick replied. “She can if she wants. But no DQs, Kat.”

“Excellent point, Nick.” Sanders added breathlessly, the effort of two Farm Hands taking its toll, the first Hand growing close to a second minute of application.

“Give up, Braddock.” Ky growled. “You’ll have a lot of years to live down this loss. If you try hard enough, you can cook up a delusion that it never happened.”

Kat, recognizing she’ll have to get the black-n-gold bytch off herself, slipped her arms under the bottom rope. She grabbed the edge of the apron with both hands and tugged herself beneath to ‘shave’ Kylie off her with the assistance of the rubber-coated steel. The Brat plopped to the arena floor, a free woman but furiously massaging at her wounded wheel.

As Braddock cursed under her breath, trying to knead her leg back into working order, Ky spurred her Corps into a rhythmic clap. With the bowl energized, Kylie slipped through the ropes and dropped to boot leather a few feet removed from the wincing, mewling California Quake.

Approaching from the blind spot of the flaxen-haired fireplug, Sanders waited until Kat began rising with the help of the apron’s edge. As Braddock picked blue spandex from deep between her cheeks, Sanders slipped her arms under and around those of her curvier counterpart, locking fingers behind Braddock’s neck. Full Nelson tightly in place, Kylie pivoted the squirming Brat to face the squared circle and BANGED Kat’s forehead into the hardest part of the mat’s surface.

Arms falling limp to her sides, Chrissy Daniel’s former protégé, until she left the Killer Imp a shell of her former self, was in no position to stop Sanders from repeating the blow a second and third time.

Ky unhooked her grasp and Kat slumped against the ring’s edge, the only way she’s able to keep herself from pooling at the feet of the Pleasant Valley Princess.

Sanders spun the faltering Braddock to face her and delivered the raised point of her knee into the navel of Kat’s cushy tummy. Breath rushed from between the lips of The Brat. Doubled at the waist, it seemed the bug-eyed Braddock wanted to throw some verbal grenades at the Iowan but was too busy trying to bring oxygen back in.

“This fantasy the Corps secretly want to see me lose goes to bed, tonight.” the Hawkeye informed.

Kylie landed a right forearm to Kat’s jaw, violently swinging the blonde’s skull in the opposite direction.

“I’ve outlasted LaKeisha and Chrissy. Cynthia and Portia. And in my own way, Lisa and Shea.”

The Pixie blasted Braddock with a chin-denting shiver that left Kat’s upper half flat to the deck, that was until Ky pulled her back to something approaching upright.

“And believe me, I’m going to survive you. If they couldn’t do it, who are you to think you can? You’re half what they are.”

“I’m the Legend Killer,” Kat spat through a split lip, a small spray of blood accompanying her words.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Sanders rammed a third forearm smash into the Californian’s noggin, this between her eyes, leaving the Cali Quake a dazed wreck.

“But I get to decide when done is done.” Ky concluded.

Sanders scooped her adversary’s legs off the thinly-padded cement and stuffed Kat back inside the squared circle, then rolled in after, pushing to her feet as Braddock made it to all fours.

Kylie helped Kat up the rest of the way with a stretchy grip on the back rim of her blue spandex. The Pixie grabbed both arms and pivoted herself and her foe until the crown of Kat’s noggin was tight between her shoulderblades.

Kylie laid out and delivered the Pleasant Valley Plummet, a more recent addition to arsenal that left Braddock face down and unmoving.



PLEASANT VALLEY PLUMMET:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=NqNdZWk5ruQ

Spinning from her seat, Sanders dragged the comatose Kat to her back, hooked The Brat’s far leg and rolled into a Back Press for a glorious win with the…



ONE…

TWO…

THRNOOO!



Incredibly, Braddock shoved a shoulder up!

The sellout crowd was unable to contain a ‘THIS IS AWESOME’ chant despite their disappointment at Kylie being temporarily delayed from one of the best wins of her career.

Ky shoved the glassy-eyed Brat to her chest and mounted her adversary in a forward-facing, crouching straddle. Relying on her now long-ago amateur background, the Pixie swept her wings under and round those of the splayed Braddock, lacing her fingers against the back of Kat’s neck.

With the Quake’s arms folded above her head in the Full Nelson, the FAWN original leeeeeeeaaaaaaned back, drawing the curvy Kat into a spine-bending arch, Braddock’s upper half bent into an anguish-inducing curve with the precisely applied Full Nelson Camel Clutch.



FULL NELSON CAMEL CLUTCH:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SduUDB03YkA



Pain growing as Sanders skillfully increased the arc, Katrina No-Belts couldn't suppress the voicing of her pain, shrieking as her backbone felt like it might be snapped, Ky continuing to not only wear The Brat down but punish the blonde on her way to a potential victory.

With Castle lying in front of the grimacing Kat, Nick offered the former champion a way out with two simple words ‘I Quit’.

The FAWNatics showed their desire, starting a ‘TAP…TAP…TAP’ chant. But for long agonizing seconds, there was none. Finally convinced she couldn't yet break her foe’s will, Kylie broke her grip and tossed Braddock’s flawless features to the thinly-sheathed floorboards, Kat’s face BANGING off the mat.

Still seated on the small of her opponent's back, Sanders took a moment to brush some invisible dust from her palms before she plucked a few very real strands of long blonde hair from those same mitts and dropped them between Kat's shoulders. Happy to take a moment to catch her breath and plot out her next line of offense, Kylie stood up and stepped back, the blonde veteran rolling her shoulders before she put her hands on her hips.

“Where's that mouth now, Kitty?” Ky asked when the younger blonde made no effort to regain her footing. “Seems to me you've got a habit of choking up when the spotlight shines brightest. What'd Eliza always call chicks that froze in big moments? Oh yeah, understudies. Makes sense. You've got all of Chrissy's swagger but none of her—”

She would've said 'grit' if Braddock hadn't snaked an arm over the bottom rope and dragged herself halfway to the apron in a single tug! Not about to let the Cali Quake escape so easily, Sanders lunged in and grabbed hold of the other wrestler's ankles in both hands. “Don't even think about it.” Ky said through gritted teeth as she fought to prize Kat's claws from the rubber-coated steel. “Your pampered little ass isn't going anywh—”

“YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE, BEEYOTCH!” Braddock bellowed as she hooked her other arm around the bottom strand for extra support. “TALK AS TUFF AS YOU WANT, DEEP DOWN EVERYONE KNOWS YOU'RE STILL LAKEISHA'S ASS RAG AND LISA DREAM'S MIC STAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!”

Coming to understand she wasn't going to simply overpower Kat Braddock at this stage of her career, the Iowan abruptly stretched her foe's legs into a wide 'V' and earned the former World Champ some sympathetic groans by THUMPING a Toe Kick into the fork of her crotch!

The Brat yowled and immediately released her hooks to tend to the nauseating thrum left in the wake of Sanders' wicked punt. Not that this was her only problem, mind you. No sooner had she abandoned the ropes did Kylie kick it into full reverse, the predatory Pixie just draaaaaaaaaggggging the insolent youngster's face, chest, and belly for a painful case of mat burn!

Still possessed of those shuddering ankles, Kylie rolled Braddock onto her stomach, then bent down to secure a double handful of hair. Peeling The Brat off the canvas in stages, the PVP switched from the hair-hold to a snug grip around Braddock's upper thighs. Hands snug across the swell of Kat's buns, Kylie shot up on tiptoe just to sink to one knee, the vindictive veteran piling on the punishment while simultaneously answering a slight from earlier courtesy an Inverted Atomic Drop!

Braddock whined and tried to tiptoe away, but Sanders only tightened down and hoisted her off her feet again. “You give, Braddock?”

Kat shook her head 'no', a look of incredulity crossing her face in spite of the anguish. “Never.” she rasped. “I'd die before I submit to NNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH!”

Sanders took three giant steps forward and treated herself to another penance that THWHUMPED Kat's undercarriage against the point of her knee.

“Gaahhhhh....faaaaahk yooooo!” The Quake was too spaghetti-legged to wrest loose of Ky's grip, so she curved her fingers into hooks and dragged them across Sanders' back over and over again! Kylie grimaced but didn't abandon her grasp, indeed she treated the knock-kneed bombshell to a little bit of a horsey ride atop the jouncing joint before she muscled Kitty into the air yet again. “How 'bout now, Kitty? Wanna givrrrrhhhhhhhh!”

“NEVER!” Braddock couldn't actually pull Kylie's hair so she settled for dragging her talons along the curve of the veteran's skull as hard as she could! “YOU'RE A FUCKING JOKE! A MASCOT! I'M THE BEST, I'LL NEVER QUIT TO WHOOAAAAANNNNNGGGGGHHHH!” Sanders stepped forward and hoisted Kat so high it looked like she was thinking about a Rydeen Bomb or maybe a oversized Spinebuster! Instead the Hawkeye let loose and dropped flat on her back while bringing her knees up to chest-level! Braddock's drop proved shorter but far less pleasant as the splay-legged blonde THWHUMPED down on both those upraised knees with enough force to raise a groan in the throat of even the most stubborn Braddock Basher!

Don't count Kylie Sanders among that number, the Pleasant Valley Princess looked chilly as ever as she shifted her curled stems to plant both boots against Kat's chest so she could send her flying through the air with a Mule Kick that left The Quake shivering near the edge of the squared circle. She was still suffering the aftershocks of those megaton Atomic Drops when Kylie stomped over and very deliberately buried a boot in Braddock's belly. Kat gurgled and sat halfway up, which was just enough for Sanders to reach down and catch a double handful.

“You don't wanna sandbag me, Kitty.” Ky huffed as she dragged the protesting battler to her feet. “You say you're the best of a generation, you damned sure better act like EERRRGGGHH!”

The Brat couldn't muster the strength for a Kneelift targeting anything useful, but she did have enough in reserve to swipe a crooked hand across the Iowan's eyes! Sanders yelped and stumbled away, the heels of both palms scrubbing at her sockets as she tried to clear the sworls from her vision.

Ninety nine times out of a hundred Kat Braddock would've followed along to inflict even more punishment, tonight however she slopped through the ropes and trudged along the narrow ledge of apron toward the nearest corner. She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she wanted to put as much distance between herself and that corn maze mummy as humanly possib—“AAHHH FUCK, LEGGO!” Kat yowled and wavered in place when Kylie snatch hold of her hair, the startled blonde almost dropping from her perch before wrapped an equally stern grip around the Pixie's wrists. “GET AWAY, DAMMIT!” she growled in a petulant tone that made her hate Sanders that much more. “I'M IN THE ROPNNNNGGGHH!”

Kylie, who'd slipped out onto the apron on the other side of the ring-post to better intercept the Quake's route, yanked Braddock's noggin forward and down to bounce her face off the top turnbuckle with an ominous BWUNG! “Ropes are like the rest of your accomplishments, brat.” Sanders explained after a couple more skull-jarring impacts. “They don't mean much of anything toniHHHRRRGGGGGK!”

Kat laced her hands across the back of Kylie's head and hopped backward off the apron, but rather than yank her tormentor's neck down across the top rope in a traditional Hot Shot, she jammed Sanders' throat against the short, taut metal strand that anchored the top turnbuckle to the ring-post! Now Kylie's hands still being in Kat's hair meant that the Hawkeye's forearms took some of the impact, but there was no mistaking the horrified 'OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!' of the crowd when the FAWN original toppled from the apron and hit the floor on her shoulder and hip, both hands pressed tight to her welted neck.

Nick Castle witnessed that vile whiplash along with everyone else and he was through the ropes in an instant to check on his fallen charge. “Talk to me, Ky!” he put a hand under the blonde's shoulder and helped her rise to a slumped seat. “Can you breathe? Nod if you can, shake your head 'no' if you—”

“Fhine!” Kylie spat the word like it'd clogged her throat. “I''ll be fine, Nick. Just gotta catch my breath.”

The Senior Official wasn't nearly so confident of the PVP's impending recovery, but he cleared off when Kylie shooed him away. Not liking the pinched feeling in her windpipe one bit, Sanders grabbed hold of the ring skirt with one hand and used it to haul herself upright much to the delight of the capacity cro—Kat Braddock swept around the corner like an intrusive thought and exploded off her back foot to THWUMP her right shoulder into the pit of Kylie's stomach!



SPEAR:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNznNLpkDms



The force of it folded Sanders in half around the encroaching Quake and drove out whatever wind she might've regained the instant Braddock planted her against the thinly-padded concrete! “That's what you get, you disgusting wash-out.” Kat snarled as she reared back on her haunches. “Your fifteen minutes of fame were over fifteen years ago, you think you can steal some of MY time? The fuck you can.”

No answer from Sanders so Kat slapped her on general principle before turning her attention to the floor. “No DQ against me.” she scoffed. “You really must be tired of eating solid foods.”

On that ominous note she wriggled her fingertips into the seam separating one pad from another and peeled the whole thing backward with a dry, menacing rrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiip! With the bare concrete now exposed, Braddock returned her attention and her ire to Kylie, the resurgent Brat hooking her prey by the shoulder-straps to haul her upright. A single knee to the belly folded Sanders over and allowed Kat to secure a Front Facelock en route to throwing the veteran's near arm across her shoulders. “Not one word. Don't even think about it.” she growled to the zebra when it looked like Castle might voice an objection. “She wanted this. Now she's got it.”

Braddock muscled her burden up and quickly hooked onto her left leg to complete a snug Cradle. Nick might've held his tongue but the FAWNatics did not, indeed they poured vitriol on Braddock from all corners in hopes it might shame her out of—Kat snapped down and back, the former World Champ THWHUNKING Sanders' forehead against the bare floor with an awful Kat Nap!



KAT NAP:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nNeUWdGDSo



Kylie shivered but remained facedown after the impact, but that didn't bother Braddock, she was all smiles as she shoveled the other blonde onto her back and climbed aboard, the Cali Quake beaming as she took a seat on the Iowan's chest and busted out a double bicep flex meant to break the heart of the Kylie Corps. Smooshing her thighs against Sanders' cheeks, Kat's smirk turned to a hateful sneer when she realized Castle hadn't started counting.

“It's No DQ, not Falls Count Anywh—”

“COUNT HER DOWN, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Castle dropped beside the action and slapped the concrete...



ONE...

TWO...

THRENOOOOOOOO!



Braddock hadn't bothered to hook the legs and it cost her when Kylie bridged up just enough to toss The Brat off! “On her feet in an instant, Kat honed in on the ref and hissed, “I'm going to spike her old ass one more time and I swear to God I'll plant you beside her if you're out of position.”

Rounding on the Hawkeye before Nick had a chance to contradict her, Kat grabbed Kylie by the ears and gave 'em a sharp twist to bring her to her knees. “How are you even moving?” the Quake sniffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “You're a joke. An afterthought. Everybody's favorite rebound win. To think you can stand against me is WHOOAAAAAHHRRHH!”

Sanders shot an arm between Kat's legs not as a Low Blow, but to hook on tight as she surged to her feet and muscled the startled Brat into a Fireman's Carry! Far more aware of the concrete than the deafening noise, Kylie threaded her right arm across the back of Braddock's neck, then pushed up on tiptoe and laid out on her right side to THWHUNK the back of the Brat's head against the floor with the damndest Pleasant Valley Driver in years!



PLEASANT VALLEY DRIVER:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yW4AbQpkxI



Managing to maintain her grip after impact, Ky folded The Brat into a sort of sidesaddle Back Press and held on through...



ONE...

TWO...

THRENOOOOOOOO!



Kat twisted loose and tumbled over onto her stomach, leaving both blondes at the bottom of a crater while everyone else looked on in wide-eyed astonishment!

A seated Sanders looked at Castle in disbelief, her hazel peepers popping.

“No way.” the Platinum Pixie stuttered. “She didn’t.”

A rising Nick shook his head in disagreement as he held two fingers aloft.

“Yeah. She did.”

A disappointed rumble moved through the sellout throng, a few jeers headed toward the man in stripes as the Corps could see how shook Kylie appeared following The Brat’s escape.

A weary chuckle emanated from beside her and Ky glanced over at Braddock as the Quake started to push to hands and knees.

“Barely felt it.” Kat huffed breathlessly, clearly lying through her gritting teeth, any and every movement causing her pain. Still, she rose, forcing a haggard Kylie to do the same or risk The Brat regaining control.

The Hawkeye reached her feet with Braddock to one knee. The Iowan ‘helped’ the former beach fighter up the rest of the way, keeping her fellow blonde’s head stooped to lift a knee and THUMP the bony cap between her foe’s eyes. Kat’s head snapped back from the impact, her abbreviated stems rubbery.

With The Brat ragdolled, Ky wrapped a palm around the back of Braddock’s neck and spun her adversary to the apron, tossing her back in the squared circle, the Cali girl rolling to a stop several feet in, remaining mat-bound, in a stupor.

Outside the ropes, the fading FAWN Original determined there’s only one way to end 'Mania this year, with a little added ‘oomph’. The sweat-soaked Kylie flipped up the ring skirt and peeked under, emerging with a chair. The silvery-bobbed grappler tossed it in the confines to hoots from the crowd. But she’s not done. Back under, the Pleasant Valley Princess really caught the fancy of the FAWNatics when reappearing with the end of a table in tow.

The Corps went apeshyt as she slowly maneuvered the folding furniture onto the deck and shoved it under, the end banging against Kat’s left shoulder as it slide, waking The Brat from her daze.

Noticing Kat stirring, the icon followed her hardware, slowly pushing to her feet after entering, then collecting the table. Apparently judging she might not have the time to set it fully, Sanders moved it upright and leans it in a forty-five degree angle against a set of buckles.

Ky strode wearily to Braddock, who’d made it to one knee. The Pixie sank her nails into Kat’s wildly tousled, golden mane.

“You fucked around.” Ky gasped, the veteran drained but pushing through. “Now, you find out. I may not be the best, but I’m better than you.”

Kylie tugged Kat to her feet, dips her right arm through Braddock’s stems and ‘hupped’ the near deadweight across her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. Instantly the crowd found another gear, roaring to their feet.

Sanders maneuvered so her ‘tossing side’ hip pointed to the tabletop, ready to end any doubt with Braddock blasted within a shower of splinters with another Pleasant Valley Driver, this one for the ages.

But before Ky could launch, Kat’s desperation sent an elbow pump, pump, pumping into the Hawkeye’s left temple, three nasty knocks the number it takes for Braddock to slide out the back door, landing behind a glassy-eyed Ky!

Braddock’s legs gave out as she fell to her knees, but tonight’s battering had also left the old hand slow to turn and find her lost cargo. Showing the consequences of the war, Kylie slowly rotated. It gave The Cali Quake enough time to steady and throw her noggin forward, Kat’s Headbutting the Pixie in the pussy.

The Corps groaned in sympathy as Kylie’s slender legs melted and she crumpled to her knees, hands buried in her crotch, jaw agape. The blondes leaned against each other to keep from collapsing.

After a few seconds that brought Castle near a double count, it’s Braddock who rose first. Kat reached her feet, the consumed Sanders’ left cheek leaning against a blue spandex-covered hip.

With a hand steadying the wobbling Pixie, Braddock turned her backside to Sanders and the beach badass pounded whatever senses remain out of the PVP with a wicked set of Bratty Butt Bumpers, Kat’s bum CRASHING into Kylie’s skull time and time again.



BRATTY BUTT BUMPERS:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMaqsJS_9eg



With Ky’s body turned to Jell-O, Braddock hauled the feeble Pixie to stooped feet. She backed in front of the table, drawing Sanders with her, Braddock’s shoulders pointed to its top. Pulling Kylie into a tight Front Facelock, The Brat dropped the Hawkeye’s limp left arm across her shoulders and snatched a handful of black lycra on the icon’s hip.

The Corps were silent, praying for the wrestling gods to save their leader, but when Kat vaulted Kylie into a cradled tuck against the Quake’s bountiful bosom, some averted their eyes. Those that did only heard the sickening CRASH of Kylie taking a second Kat Nap, this one through the bleakly busting table.



KAT NAP:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYABwz8Xi44&t=4s



The crown of Sanders’ skull snapped the top in two, Kylie’s limp and lifeless body flopping senselessly to its back amongst the wooden shards and bent steel.

Drawing on echoes of the early days and Chrissy Daniel’s dominance over a fresh-faced Sanders, Braddock sat up with a weary grin. She turned to the lens of the hard cam and mouthed… 'NOT ENOUGH!'

Slowly rolling to her feet, Kat moves to the destruction she’s wrought and passed on a pin, instead grabbing Kylie’s ankles, pulling the comatose Pixie out of the wreckage. Braddock flipped what’s left of Sanders to her chest, Ky face down and unmoving.

Kat lowered to a crouching, forward-facing straddle, apparently wanting not just to pin the Pixie but force Sanders to declare her as the best in the world. Kat laced her fingers and was ready to scoop them under Ky’s chin when she stopped. Her brows playfully rose as if she has a brilliant idea.

Rising and walking to the long-discarded chair, The Brat plucked it off the canvas and carried it back to the softly stirring Sanders. Kat returned to her previous mount, but instead of fastening her fingers into a cup for the Camel, the evil beach bully opened the seat back and seat pan wide enough to slip Kylie’s cranium through the gap.

With Sanders' chin resting against the rear of the seat-back and with Braddock in possession of the legs, the FAWNatics could hardly believe their eyes as the heinous Brat rose to a standing position, placed a boot at the base of Kylie’s spinal column and leans back as far as she could Kat yanked the chair and Ky with it, drawing the blonde's head and her attached upper half, curving Sanders into an ungodly arch!

With her chest and abs thrust forward from the agonizing bow of the supercharged Clutch, the Pixie’s elfin features point to the rafters then sickeningly started to curl farther, toward the snarling Kat behind her.

“Say it! Say it loud and proud!”

Sanders couldn't respond verbally, her jaw essentially wired shut by the chair. Neither could she nod or shake her trapped head. But when Braddock dropped to her knees atop Kylie’s hammies and Kat threatens to touch the crown of Kylie’s dome to her foe’s taut ass, the torment proved too much.

A teary-eyed Sanders wildly waved her arms, trying desperately to signal to anyone and everyone she could take no more. Being FAWN’s head ref, Castle grasped the moment and waved emphatically toward the Timekeeper who CLANGED the bell repeatedly, the match ended with the silent surrender.

But the continued flails didn't seem enough for Braddock nor was the Announcer’s call.

“Your winner by submission…KAT BRADDOCK!”

If the attendants hoped the pronouncement would stop Kat, they’re sadly mistaken and Castle’s calls were likewise ignored, his ability to DQ The Brat removed under the rules.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was closer to thirty seconds, Braddock let the chair’s legs fall from her palms and Kylie’s bowed backbone returned to a shape for which it was designed.

When Nick starts to work at removing the chair from around Kylie’s neck he’s punted in the junk for his troubles. Castle implodes into a shuddering ball while Kat called for a microphone.

Hoping it will halt the rampage, she’s provided the amplifier tout suite.

With the stick in one hand, she rolls a grimacing, mewling Pixie to her back, Kylie still with the chair as a gruesome necklace.

Kat genuflected next to Ky.

“I’m not done until you say it. And you know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

Braddock lowered the mic to Kylie’s quivering Cupid’s arrow lips.

“I QUIT” she sobbed between pained breaths.

“AND?” Kat continued.

“AND YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME!”

The Brat nodded knowingly, pulling the amplifier to her lips, curled in a smile.

“See, that wasn’t so bad. Sometimes admitting the truth can be liberating.”

Kat glanced around the entirety of the jeering masses.

“But sometimes…IT’S JUST TOO LATE!”

Braddock tossed the stick aside and leapt into a Leg Drop, her glistening lower limb dropping against the metal of the top end of the chair in a ghastly CLANK, sandwiching it against Kylie’s neck.

With the bell ringing incessantly, calling for security to rush the ring, a growling Kat rose over a twitching Kylie, Braddock shaking her head.

Having left the Imp a shell, it’s clear the Quake planned to leave the Pixie an invalid.

Braddock hustled to the corner and rose to the top, turning to face the spasming Sanders.

With the Corps pleading for mercy, Kat took to the air and landed a LEG DROP FROM THE TOP across the steel in a gut-churning CLACK, Ky’s neck again caught between the metal.

Her shuddering frame falling still, Kylie’s left a flaccid carcass beneath a seated and grinning Kat.

Seeing the cavalry arriving with half the locker room’s goody-two-shoes on their way, Braddock scrambled out of the ring, over the barrier, and found an aisle to climb, staying clear of any potential vengeance from one of Sanders’ unhappy associates.

As the perspiration glistens across her bruised but triumphant body, Kat backs up the stairs to the concourse, shouting “I TOLD YOU I’D END HER! IT’S WHAT I DO! SHOVEL THAT SHIT OUT OF HERE! SHE’S FINALLY DONE!”

As Braddock disappeared into the arena’s undercarriage, inside the ring, EMTs carefully extricated Kylie from the twisted wreckage of the chair. She’s out cold. Worriedly they tapped her cheek, trying to rouse her, but it’s not working. The men placed a thick collar around what may very well be a broken neck and they tenderly slid her on a stretcher.

As Kylie’s fallen form was wheeled away from the squared circle toward the back, the hushed FAWNatics hoped for at least a thumbs up and there’s the slightest twitch of one in that direction for those with eagle eyes.

But it certainly appeared, as the end comes to all things, Kat Braddock had finally brought a finish to the Platinum Pixie, Vanilla Chill, victor and victim in equal measure, hated and loved, the Pleasant Valley Princess…Kylie Sanders.

Fade to black…