Post by bigfan on Nov 1, 2016 0:21:41 GMT
Outside the abandoned asylum known affectionately as “The Mad House” is a field of corn. Tall stalks wave in the night breeze in the noiseless night. The camera pans across the golden crops to a clearing in the field lit with tall, blazing torches. Laying down on the tilled earth is what could best be described as a crucifix, made from a five foot long beam nailed across a ten feet long bean. At the end of it is a hole about a foot and a half deep about as wide as the beam itself. The camera pans over to a pile of hay and, next to that, a bundle of gloves, overalls, straw hats, and rope. The camera pauses, the pans more still, to a wheelbarrow full of an assortment of ancient tools.
From the stalks of corn steps a man with a long, hollow face. He is clad in a dirty encrusted pair of overalls, work boots, and a dusty referee's shirt. He looks dead into the camera and speaks in a deep, almost distant voice.
“Gentle souls of the FAWNation, it is my solemn duty to introduce the next contest,” he says. The wind picks up as he speaks. “This match, with no time limit, no disqualifications, and no count-outs, is a Queen of the Cornfield match.” The camera slowly pans to the crucifix. “The only way the match ends is when one fighter lashes the other to the post, dresses her as a scarecrow, and raises the post.” The camera pans back to the official, who stares into the camera unblinking. “Nothing else is off-limits. The whole field is the ring. My only duty in this match is to declare a winner.”
In the distance, the cawing of crows echoes. The official looks up into the night, as if deciphering their sounds, then back to the camera. “Your combatants for this event are approaching the field. First, from Amman, Jordan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred and twenty-four pounds… the Jewel of the Jordan… the Desert Flower…” His voice finally picks up as he points to his right. “ALIA SAAD!”
ALIA SAAD
The usual ring entrance music is replaced by only the woosh of winds and overwhelming quite of the field. Two cloaked figures appear from the depths of the harvest and pull the stalks apart like a curtain. From the depths steps an obviously annoyed Alia Saad. Her well known white two piece is not on her. Instead, she wears a brown satin bra black lace trim on the cups that nestle her perfect bosom. Black lacy bottoms hug her butt. Long black boots crawl up her legs to just below her tights. She adjusts a brown halter vest, looking at the disgusting surroundings and sneering.
“This is a farm,” Saad says, spitting in disgust. “It stinks of animals, dung, and menial labor. Shame upon the FAWN bookers for sending someone so majestic and perfect here. Was my pathetic, lowly opponent not insult enough?” Alia snaps at one of the figures and removes her vest. She hands it to the cloaked attendant and begins to stretch. “Call the fool out, ghoul,” Alia demands of the official. “This is all beneath me and I wish to move on.”
The camera pans back to the official, still staring straight into the camera.
“Her opponent for this fight, from Flint, Michigan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred and thirteen pounds… TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER!”
TRIXIE DECKER:
The official gestures to his left. The camera pans over towards the stalks and, once more, two robed figures step from the depths and part the stalks. Trixie Decker stomps into view, but it's a Trixie FAWN hasn't seen before. She wears a long, dark brown wig of straight, shimmering hair. Her usual black bra and panties set and net shirt art gone. Instead, she wears a white bikini and red boots. On the boots, hastily scrawled in white paint, are the words, “I don't know Arabic” on her right and “And I didn't want to be offensive so I didn't try” on her left.
Plainly, Trixie wears a parody of Alia's longtime ring gear.
Decker stomps into view, her nostrils flaring with exaggerated rage, and tosses her hair about. “THIS IS BENEATH ME, FAWN!” she booms. “HOW DARE YOU PIT ROYALTY SUCH AS MYSELF AGAINST COMMON GUTTER TRASH!” She bites her lower lip and turns her nose up at Alia. “You shall kneel before my majesty this night! So says--” Trixie turns, popping her very shapely butt towards the camera. Scrawled across her bottoms, in red letters, is the phrase, “THE THISTLE OF FLINT!”
The camera immediately cuts to Alia, who glares silently at Decker. Her cheeks begin to burn slightly red. The camera cuts back Trixie, who removes her wig to let her short black locks roll free. “Oh, c'mon, Alia! Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery! 'Sides, it was discounted. I couldn't pass up a deal.” Trixie pauses and offers a thoughtful gaze. “Might wanna talk to FAWN Marketing, though. The packaging said it was a 'Sexy Trash' costume.”
Alia takes a single step forward. “Impudent, puerile whore, I will end you.”
The official raises his hands. “Before the destruction commences, ladies. You understand all the rules?”
“Dress her as a scarecrow, got it,” Decker says, locking eyes with Alia and grinning. “All the way?”
“If you want,” the official says. “But the important ingredients for a scarecrow are clothing stuffed with straw, a hat, and--” The referee withdraws a burlap mask from his overalls. It is adorned with large button eyes, a bottle cap nose, and a stitched mouth. “And a scary face.” He drops the mask to the dirt and steps back. On cue, the cornfield around them erupts in deafening fluttering as thousands of crows bolt into the night sky, squawking with all their might.
The closest thing to a bell this match has.
Alia wastes not a second and barrels into Trixie, sending the pale woman backwards into the fresh dirt. Alia straddles Trixie and begins wailing down on her with slaps, punches, and scratches across the face, all in a stream of hatred vocalized in both English and Arabic.
“I didn't come here to be mocked, you infantile twit!” Alia snaps, raking her nails against Trixie's throat. “Learn your place!” She rockets a balled up fist into Trixie's mouth before the Michigan brawler is able to kick her legs up high enough to nail Alia in the back. Saad's concentration is broken enough for Decker to lift and toss her to the side, letting her scramble to her own feet.
Saad gets up as well and the two women circle each other. “You dare,” Alia hisses, her eyes narrowing. “This is all you are good for. You pick fights with women better than you and mock them. You think you can pull me down to your level?” Alia spits on the ground at Trixie's feet. “I am pure. I am perfection. You are, and will always be, lowly white trash, spewed forth from a long line of dogs no one pitied enough to put out of their misery!”
Trixie only smiles back sweetly. “Pure? Honey, I've seen your matches.”
Alia charges, but this time Trixie meets her in a lock-up. Both women push back and appear evenly matched, but Saad delivers a knee into Trixie's thigh. Decker yelps and buckles, allowing the Flower of Jordan to pull Trixie's head under her arm and fall back in a DDT. The raven-haired woman gets a faceful of dirt, blinding her temporarily. The Princess stomps her boot into the back of the Jinx's head, grinding her face into the dirt. “I know of you,” Alia grunts. “You act like you somehow invented sexuality and that FAWN is your personal groping playground. Like no one's done the things you've done.” Saad throws her head back and offers a dismissive laugh. “If you think I'll recoil in shock and blush at a few touches, you have a lot to learn.”
Trixie blindly flails on her hands and knees, trying to get all the dirt and mud from her eyes. Saad pulls Trixie's hair, yanking her up to a kneel, and her free hand into Trixie's bottoms. The camera follows the outline of a hand obviously making contact with Trixie's holiest of holies, moving about busily. Decker is unable to stifle the shocked gasp, immediately grasping the handing invading her, seeming unsure of what to actually do. Alia places her lips against Trixie's ear and smiles. “And tonight, I will be your head mistress.”
Saad rips a curled claw from Trixie's bottoms at full force. The blood-curdling shriek leaves no question the intensity and depth of the scratch, or how vulnerable the target was. Trixie crumples forward, catching herself with a hand before she lands flat. Her mouth gapes in pain and her eyes, already reddening from the dirt, uncontrollably well up. Still, she stares stunned into the ground.
A boot to the back flattens Trixie. “You are out of your league,” Saad booms. Standing on Trixie's back, Alia cups the goth under the chin and bends her back as far as her torso will allow and then some. “Surrender now. Beg my forgiveness, whore.”
“No submissions,” the stone-faced official says from a rickety folding chair next to the wheelbarrow. He pulls a handkerchief from his bib and towels his brow. “Gotta hoist her up like a scarecrow.”
“She can still beg,” Alia purrs. “Can't you, gutterslut? That's how you survived this long, isn't it? Begging?” Alia leans her weight backwards and Trixie moans in agony. “Begging and swallowing!” Alia places a boot against the back of Decker's head, releases her chin, and stomps Trixie's face into the ground. She leans all of her weight in, slowly twisting the foot into a struggling Decker. “Don't worry. I'll make use of that mouth you love to run so much.”
She kicks Trixie in the side of the head before stomping towards the wheelbarrow. Alia dumps the contents and looks it over, making no effort to hide her disgust at how old and filthy everything is.
Not wanting to really sort through the mish-mash of splinters and tetanus, Alia snags the first thing she really notices – a lead pipe, crusted in dirt. She turns and rushes at Trixie, who's now up on wobbly legs.
Decker wipes her eyes and looks up. What happens next will be slow-mo'ed by FAWNatics over and over for the next week, to appreciate the action of the few seconds it occurs in. Trixie's vision is blurry but returning and she sees the obvious form of Alia closing in with something in her hands. Decker manages to lean backwards in a decent imitation of a Matrix move just as the pipe cuts the air where her noggin was. Decker kicks her food up and slams a toe right into the charging Princess's bread basket. Alia's eyes round out as she is unable to stop her body from driving straight into the obstruction. Her grip loosens and the pipe falls to the dirt. Trixie, however, continues rolling backwards in a flip and kicks her other foot up to catch Alia just under the jaw, snapping the Jordanian's head back. After all's said in done, Trixie's move ends with her further back but on her feet. Alia's move ends with her on her back and clutching her stomach.
Her vision more clear, Trixie looks at the dropped wrench. “Oh, it's that kinda party?” Trixie jumps, landing her butt on Alia's belly, crushing the air from her. The Jinx shoves her thumbs into Alia's eyes and digs her other fingers' nails into the sides of Saad's face. Trixie rises, pulling a sputtering and twitching Alia with her, and leads her over to the long beam of wood. Decker guides her opponent towards the crucifix and releases her eyes. As Alia's hands go to rub out the pain, Trixie turns, grabs up around Alia's head, and snapmares her over. The Princess lands, tailbone first, onto the beam, after which Trixie palms the side of her face and slams her sideways, conking Alia's skull on the wood.
Trixie climbs onto the beam and sits facing Alia, grabbing her foe's arm and yanking it into an armbar. Saad roars in fury, slamming her free fist into the cross over and over. A shadow falls over them. Trixie looks up to see the official. “Just a reminder,” he drawls, “her submission won't be accepted.”
Trixie grins like a cat in Wonderland. “Better than getting a full-sized candy bar while trick-or-treating.” Decker begins twisting Alia's wrist back and forth, even trying to pull her fingers all the way back. All the while, Saad thrashes violently, trying to yank free. Finally, the Desert Flower manages to stand somewhat, still leaning towards where Trixie lies. Alia flexes the trapped arm as best she can while grabbing Trixie's short mane of hair, pulling hard. Alia manages to lift Trixie off the wooden beam a few feet before releasing the hair. Trixie clatters to the post, the hard surface doing her back no favors. She doesn't release the hold, but the impact makes her shudder just enough Alia is able to pull away.
Alia stumbles back, rubbing her elbow and arm, while keeping a watchful eye on Trixie. As Decker rises, Alia rushes and knocks Trixie back with a short arm clothesline. The Flint girl stumbles backwards, her feet catching on the beam before spilling her down. Saad walks back a bit, rotating and testing her arm, before doubling back around and rushing where Trixie is splayed out. When Alia nears the beam, she flips over it and lands across Trixie's breasts with a somersault leg drop.
Somersault Leg Drop:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh-yfvyBhj0
Trixie shudders at the impact, trying to roll away instantly. Saad will have none of it, though, and snaps her legs around Trixie's neck for a headscissor hold. The Jinx pushes and pries on the legs of her captor, and a few times it looks as though she'll escape, but Saad's leg strength is too much. To be sure, though, Alia delivers a few swift punches to Trixie's crown. Another strike momentarily dazes Trixie enough to allow Alia to grab and pull up her wrists.
“Isn't this what you like?” Alia chortles. “You should feel honored to be between the legs of someone so exquisite! I am a living masterpiece!”
“Munch's… Scream,” Trixie forces out.
Alia cocks an eyebrow. “Could it be I am the one woman in FAWN you aren't trying to force yourself upon?” Alia almost sounds insulted. “I am the perfect woman, desired by all.” She tightens her legs on Trixie's throat.
“You're… pretty… ha… hateable,” Trixie says, beginning to flush from the hold.
Alia purses her lips in a grin that would make the Grinch nervous. Something about knowing Trixie hating her made her future plans for the milky-skinned nuisance even pleasing. But, she had to get there and, with every second, it was looking more likely that Trixie would force her way from the hold. Saad's eyes return to the pile of tools. Her eyes widen as she notices a few useful items. Alia pushes herself up, allowing Trixie to gasp for air but still pulling the Michigan native by her tresses. Alia runs along with her prey, quickly spinning and flinging Decker by her hair at the metal chair the official once sat it. Trixie catches the seat in the ribs, rolling over the back and ending in a heap.
As Trixie rolls over, Alia darts to the pile and scoops up a large dented milking bucket and a wooden drainage shovel. As Trixie rolls over onto her belly Alia shoves the bucket over her head then delivers a solid kick to the bucket's side. Trixie rolls onto her back, clutching at the bucket's rim. The Jewel slings the drainage shovel across Decker's throat before dropping to her knees on the Jinx's breasts, letting her weight and gravity do all the damage. Facing the downed woman's lower half, Alia hooks her feed over the shovel's shaft before sitting back atop it. The choking and gurgling is instant, and it immediately picks up Alia's mood. Alia clenches her fists, raises them, and brings them down in a double axehandle to Trixie's exposed belly. And another. And another. The hot, panicked breath of Decker manages to slip from the bucket onto the Princess's butt. It feels like early victory.
“This is done,” Alia announces in a definite tone, as if saying, “Water is wet.” Alia looks to the official, expecting the usual demand for breaking the hold. He stares at her, blankly. His face unnerves her, but he doesn't move. Alia returns her attention to her new toy. Seeing the mock of her white ring gear makes rage bubble up again and she snatches at the top, ripping it free and exposing Trixie's breasts. “So small,” she says, almost pitiful, while mauling and slapping at Decker's B-cups. Alia steals glances down at her own caramel colored magnificent mounds, then looks back to the pale tits and pink nipples in her talons. “No wonder you hate me. I am a reminder of the perfection you will never achieve.”
Alia looks down, expecting some sort of reply. Instead, Decker's body is deathly still. Saad rises, not trusting it, and nudges Trixie with her foot. No response. She pulls the bucket from Decker's head. Sure enough, Trixie is passed out – dead to the world around her. Done quicker than expected, Alia ponders. She isn't surprised, of course. It's obvious this garbage wasn't on her level. Still, Alia celebrates by lowering her undercarriage on Trixie face and grinding in hard while playing with the victim's tits. And it's not that Alia doesn't enjoy it – Trixie's mouth and nose are positioned just perfectly to feel great, and her breasts are firm, even if small, and fun to squeeze and claw – but knowing Decker hates her so much just makes Alia think how much more fun this would be if she weren't unconscious.
Alia stops and looks up. Why hadn't she been declared the winner yet.
“You there!” Alia barks to the official. “Declare my superiority to the--” She stops herself, remembering the stipulations. “Are you really going to make me hang her up? She's out cold.”
The official says nothing but crosses his arms.
Alia stands up, grunting with annoyance, but takes Trixie by the ankles and drags her towards the beam. Alia heaves the still woman up and drops her across it, straddles her and lays her arms out in a perfect “T” formation. Saad then strides over to the ropes, grabs them, and returns to finish the job. Again she straddles Trixie, tying down one arm. Before moving to the other, Alia grins down at the done fighter. “Poor simpleton,” she says, leaning down. “Where's all that brash self-confidence now?”
Trixie's eyes pop open, startling Alia and getting a terrified yelp from her. Decker reaches up, cupping Alia behind the head and brings her down for a loud headbutt while screaming, “HERE, BITCH!” The sound of the heads colliding might leave one to expect at least one skull would be cracked open, but instead Alia pulls back, swearing. Trixie offers more reasons to swear, slashing her dirt caked nails across Alia's eyes. The princess stumbles away, rubbing her eyes, while Trixie undoes the ropes around her right arm and gets up. Her footing is unsure, still feeling the effects from being choked out, but the rope stays in her hand as she rushes and leaps on Alia's back. The rope finds its way around Alia's neck and Trixie cinches it, choking the royal rumbler. Locking her legs around Saad's torso, Trixie wraps the rope forearm and rides the blustering Jordanian like a bucking bronco.
Alia bounds from side to side, her face quickly looking like a shocked plumb, and Trixie manages to stay on for a good eight seconds before dismounting. Decker's feet hit the dirt and she rushes towards the emptied wheelbarrow, Alia in tow, before slinging her enemy towards it. Alia goes ass over tea kettle, scraping herself on the rusty cart's edges as it, too, topples to the side. Trixie bends over, placing her hands on her knees, and inhaling deeply, before standing up straight again and feeling the scratches on her bare tits. “Just couldn't resist my precious collectable miniatures, huh?” Decker runs towards Alia, hopping onto the cart and dropping herself onto the shambles of the princess. Decker's ass lands flat across Alia's large breasts, and the goth seems pretty comfy.
Decker takes Alia by the hair and yanks her up, grinding Saad's face into the white crotch of Trixie's bottoms. The Jinx slides her legs around Alia's neck and squeezes a scissorhold. Alia immediately begins to dig her nails into Trixie's hips, leaving long red scratches, but the attacker doesn't seem to mind. The sensation of Alia struggling is offering more pleasure than the nails offer pain. Trixie bites her lower lip as she works her crotch harder against Alia's face, but then makes a sour face. “Nope, I still hate you too much to enjoy this.” Decker punches down, right into Alia's forehead, before releasing the scissorhold. Alia falls flat, clutching her head and breathing hard.
Trixie scoops Alia up in a fireman’s carry and hoists her high, then drops her onto the wheelbarrow. The metal lets out a nice metallic gong sound but more than stands up to the impact. The same cannot be said of Alia, who slides to the dirt and clutches the ribs that landed first. Saad stumbles up and away but Trixie hones in on her, kicking Alia in the belly and folding her down. Decker takes a handful of hair and yanks the FAWN vet to the crucifix.
“Turnabout, fairplay, all that shit,” Trixie mutters as she thrusts Alia's head between her thighs and lifts her up for a powerbomb, slamming her down across the long post. Alia shudders at the hit and seems stunned, only capable of staring up into the night sky as if the stars had an answer for her. Trixie pulls Alia up the beam into proper scarecrow formation, laying her arms across the crossbeam. Decker hurries over to where she dropped the rope, snags it, and runs back to Alia. There's no way she'll just lay there and let this happen, so Trixie decides to give her something else to worry about – air.
Decker takes a seat on Alia's face while she busies herself tying the fighter's right arm to the crossbeam. She loops the rope around Alia's forearm a few times before trying for the post, but it is not to be. Saad musters up all her strength, palms Trixie's butt and shoves her off. Decker flounders forward but keeps her footing – at least until she stops and turns around, when an already-up Alia delivers a backhand that rightfully should scramble Trixie's brains. Instead, catching herself, Trixie turns back to Alia and punches her across the jaw. Alia stumbles back this time, clutching her chin, but hurls a hit to Trixie's face, slamming into her cheek. The impact barely lands before Decker shoots a fist into Alia's throat. Saad gags and backs away, but Trixie grabs her by the forearm and yanks her forward into a clothesline.
Alia goes down like a ton of bricks. Trixie watches her fall and celebrates by raking her boots across Alia's eyes. It's not something Trixie would normally do to someone but, as far as Alia is concerned, the usual rules don't apply. “I don't know what it is about you,” Trixie says as she takes Alia's arm and twists it behind her back. Decker sits in the dirt behind the princess, pushing the tracked limb upwards while she wraps a scissorhold around Alia's torso. “You're hot. I should be all about you. But I rewatched all your matches before this and, frankly, you're just an asshole. Like, I found myself rooting for Jezalee Cook and Donna Dunbar over you.”
Alia winces, but offers no cry. Instead, through gritted teeth, she hisses, “Filth is always attracted to more filth.”
“That's it. The arrogance,” Trixie replies, locking her feet at the ankles. “Even by FAWN standards, you're pretty far up your own ass.” Trixie considers pushing the arm further up but it's obvious it won't go without causing severe damage, and even she has her limits. “I think I'd rather be trapped in a room with Emery, Usher, Portia, Lawson, and Chrissy Daniel having a 'Who Can Boast Loudest' contest than listen to your conceited mouth run anymore.”
Alia pounds the ground with her one free hand before bellowing, “It's not arrogance when I can back it up!” She reaches back for any part of Trixie to grab and slash but Decker sock her in the back of the skull.
Trixie's legs unlock and she rises, pulling Alia up by the arm. She pulls the arm from behind Alia's back and moves it over her head. “Doin' a bang-up job of that, by the way,” Trixie said before driving a heartpunch between Alia's boobs.
HEART PUNCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ef5T3Ir2yY0
The hit throws Alia backwards, knocking her glorious treasures briefly from her top's cups. She scrambles backwards, holding the point of impact while fuming upwards at Trixie.
“See, I just touched really big boobs and didn't even like it,” Decker moaned.
Alia snaps to a crouching position, like an animal about to spring on prey. Things have to change, and she knows just how to do it. She leaps up and…
… into the corn, vanishing into the stalks.
Trixie blinks. “I… wait...” Decker looks to the official. “Can she just go--”
“The field is the ring,” the old man says sleepily. “No DQ. No count-outs.”
Trixie looks back to the corn ahead of her. “God damn it.” She is angry because Alia is sneaky, but angrier that Alia thought of this first. Trixie returns to the pile of tools and sorts through for something… anything… and she finds an old maglite. She heaves the two-foot flashlight in her hands. It's heavy and solid. Trixie had once been pummeled with one in an indie fed long ago so she knew it could do some damage. She grabs the rope as well and, before vanishing into the corn, picks up and puts back on her bikini top.
Trixie turns the light on and slinks into the ears of corn. It's dense and the light barely offers any help beyond seeing that, yup, there's still totally corn all around her. She searches and searches for Alia, occasionally stumbling over pumpkins FAWN crew undoubtedly tossed into the field just in case. She also trips over a long forgotten and rusted hoe and a few other tools. But no Alia.
Finally, Trixie emerges in a second clearing in the field. It's dark here. No crops have been planted in a long time and it's overgrown and littered with garbage, furniture and refuse possibly tossed out when FAWN bought and repurposed the Madhouse. As she's scanning for Alia, the maglite goes out. Trixie opens it and pulls the batteries out, hoping to jostle them to get it to work, but they're so crusted and ancient it's a wonder the light shown as long as it dead. Still, the maglite is good for a weapon.
Trixie scans the clearing again and, this time, sees Alia hunkered down on all fours between an abandoned table and a pile of wood. Trixie bolts at her and leaps, her weapon raised. But neither the maglite nor Trixie find any Alia to clobber. Instead, she slams through a frameless, discarded mirror that had been propped between the rotting furniture and woodpile. Trixie hollers mirror debris explodes around her. She looks behind her only to see Alia standing above her, clutching a discarded fence post like a cudgel.
Trixie doesn't even get her arm up to defend herself. Alia clobbers her across her face, laying her out. Everything spins. She tries to push herself up, mirror pieces scratching at her palms, but Saad does a phenomenal cave woman impersonation and brings the post down into her stomach. The post goes up once more and comes down right where Trixie's head should be, but Decker manages to move out of the way. Trixie manages to plant a boot in Alia's stomach and shove her back a few feet while she clutches onto the woodpile to pull herself up.
The Michigan brawler's equilibrium is off because of the club hit. Everything wobbles around her and her feet seem to have trouble finding solid ground to stomp on to. Unfortunately for Trixie, Alia is having no such problems and has long recovered from any exhaustion she was suffering while waiting for her enemy to find her. Alia drops her weapon and moves in on Trixie, hugging her around the waist and sending her overhead in a belly-to-belly suplex.
BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3pVgFXifDY
Trixie lands on top of more wood drive and splinters and jacked furniture remnants stab up into her back. Alia, on top of her, rubs against her and smiles down at Decker. She seems different than before. There's been a shift in her attitude and Trixie definitely doesn't care for it. As Alia pushes herself up she's sure to slowly drag her sweaty breasts up Trixie's face. Alia pulled the raven-haired woman up by her mane. Trixie can still barely see straight. Alia's nails dig into Trixie's side, twisting the meat as she lifts her and drops her over an outstretched knee in an inverted atomic crop. Decker clutches herself and pushes away but Alia won't release. Saad pulls Decker into a close embrace, smashing her larger breasts into Trixie's, paintbrushing them and grinning, before again lifting and dropping Trixie with an inverted atomic drop.
Decker drops to her knees, holding herself and trying not to vocalize all the pain she's in. Alia just grabs her by the back of the head and shoves Trixie's face between her legs, dragging the pail woman's face across her crotch slowly.
“Weak,” is all Alia says.
Saad reaches down and scoops Trixie up, heaving her above her head in a fireman's carry, then drops her down and lets Decker's neck slam across her knee in a fireman's carry neckbreaker.
FIREMAN'S CARRY NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=svwKtzRYbRU
The Flint girl weakly tries to reach for her neck to comfort it but she's just too low on energy. Alia puts a boot against Trixie's left check and turns her head. Saad stomps down on Trixie's face with a sense of victory. “Weak,” she says again, “and pathetic.” She smiles at Trixie, showing off her perfect white teeth. “And, I'm guessing, out of things to say. You talk so much. I know you've been told that before.” Trixie grabs at the boot holding her face down, to which Alia hauls her up by the hair. Decker can feet Saad's talons digging into the back of her scalp and raking as Alia guides the feeble fighter back the woodpile and begins slamming her face into it over and over. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, EIGHT, NINE – TEN times! Each impact is harder and faster than the last, but with the final slam Alia rakes Trixie's forehead across the pile before flinging her backwards to the ground again.
Alia offers a smug flex, showing off her muscles. Her hands then trail down as if presenting her body for glorious inspection. “As I said, it's not arrogance when you really are better than everyone around you.”
Alia lays down onto Trixie's legs and glides her body upwards slowly, rubbing every inch of her perfection against Decker's sweat-soaked, dirt-caked wreck, until they are eye to eye. Alia takes Trixie's wrists and holds them above her head while her feet intertwine with Trixie's. It's a perfect grapevine and would be useful in a match where pins mattered, Trixie thinks. However, it's still useful to Alia in a moment where proving dominance matters even more.
“Hate is a delicious fruit that falls from the tree of jealousy,” Alia says, once, again rubbing her breasts against Trixie's to emphasize their size difference, pushing them as if to hold Decker's rack at bay or engulf them. “That tree is crooked and gnarled and hard to look at, but it's strong and has deep roots.” Alia rests her head against Trixie's so the grappled woman has no choice but to look into her soft brown eyes. Alia's sweet, hot breathe warms Decker's face and the princess's plump lips graze Trixie's as she continues to speak. “But the seed which grows that tree is a thistly little burr of desire.”
Trixie feels Alia's body push into hers harder. “Deny it all you want, but it's there.” The hands clutching Trixie's wrist tighten more and more until the goth feels her fingers beginning to tingle. “I'm everything you want and it kills you. And I'm everything you wish to be and it breaks you. Nothing would give you more meaning than to be cowed by me, taken as a toy and trotted around. It would give you some meaning.” Trixie opens her mouth to protest and Alia pressed her face harder against hers. The two couldn't be closer without melting into each other.
“Everything you've ever done – every bit of carnality, every drop of violence – is nothing to me,” Alia purrs. “I assure you, I've done things you can't fathom. Commits acts of love and cruelty beyond anything an ignorant mind like yours could hope to comprehend.” The smile widens and a hot exhale moistens Trixie's face. “Sometimes at the same time.” Alia's stare burrows through Trixie. “That's why I find you pitiable. You think you're so interesting because you grope and touch and fondle. No. You're sad and empty. In an unbridled fight of passion and pain with me, you would never recover.”
Alia pushes herself up slightly, unhooks her top, and rests her breasts on Trixie's face. Decker can only take it, too spent to fight. Alia presses down. “Perhaps I could give you what you want – a taste of me – to help you move past these desires and onto the rest of your worthless life. Or perhaps...” One of Alia's hands dips past the waistband of Trixie's bottoms. “Perhaps I should give you just a taste so you spend all your long days pining for what you're unworthy of.”
Trixie feels unseen digits massage and invade. She gapes at the touch, but she also remembers the earlier scratch. Her undercarriage does as well, and is still sore at the touch. All the disgust in Alia seems outmatched by base animal desire at her touch, though, and Trixie feels her wants and her loins considering betraying her with every stroke. But Alia pulls her breasts from Trixie's sweaty, oily face and sneers down at the held woman. Instantly, the hand on her womanhood turns to a talon and bites deep.
“Foolish little tart,” Alia chides. “Someone such as myself doesn't give anything. I take.” The claw wrenches and pulls, leaving Trixie no choice but to cry out in agony and frustration. Saad withdraws the hand and shoves it into Trixie's mouth, pulling her up to her feet with it.
“First off, I take the fake glory you've attempted to wrap yourself in by wearing anything close to my original attire,” Alia booms, ripping the top from Trixie's body. She yanks the bottoms to her ankles, leaving Decker's body stark. The moments of rest have Trixie's head spinning less but still aching. Alia adds to the aches by belting her in the stomach. Decker begins to fold as pain explodes in her belly only to be met with a right cross. Trixie stumbles back, but the bottoms are still around her ankles and she desperately tries not to splay out again. Alia sends a kick into Trixie's midsection that knocks all the air from her and drops her to her knees. She feels a boot on the back of her head.
“Once again, you kneel before me,” Alia says. “Admit my superiority. Call my name out and honor me as your better and I will consider a swift, merciful end to you.”
Trixie braces her arms, pushing her hands into the filth and trash, and replies with a low by clear, “Kiss my ass.” She feels the boot leave the back of her head.
“I'm sure some find your defiance enjoyable, perhaps even intriguing and exciting,” Alia drones, “but I find it tiresome.” She kicks Trixie in the same spot she clubbed her earlier, spilling her onto her side. “Now, I take what's mine.” Trixie slowly pushes herself up to her knees and looks to Alia, but Saad is not there. Behind her, she hears the woman's voice. “You took so long to find me I had time to make something for you. Here, let us be festive.” Suddenly, everything is dark from Trixie as something heavy shoves over her head. The inside is wet and stringy by smells familiar. “Oops, I put it on wrong.” Trixie feels the object twist tightly around her neck until there is light in front of her – light in the form of a Jack-o-Lantern's face. Trixie's hands feel at the pumpkin around her head when Alia spins her around. Through the eye holes Trixie can truly drink in the pleasure this is giving Saad. Saad, taken by the spirit of the season, sings to Decker.
“Trick or treat
Taste Defeat
Your humiliation is far
From Complete!”
Alia's hand clutches around Trixie's throat and lifts her up, dropping her in a choke slam. Proud of herself for having run the fight, Alia leans in and peeks into the pumpkin's carving. “I know we're s'posed to wait but maybe I should blow your candle out now.”
A perfect moment of gloating is ruined by stance and lack of foresight. As Alia straddles Trixie to ridicule her, Decker uses all the will she can muster to rocket her knee into Saad's barely covered loins. Not the hardest hist Alia's taken in her life but more than she expected for a woman she'd spent so long beating on and degrading. As Alia stumbles back and goes to her knees, silently mouthing pain, Trixie pushes up to a sitting position and fumbles with the pumpkin. Sadly, it's really stuck on. Not her proudest moment.
Not that any of the last ten or so minutes had been proud for her.
But Trixie reminds herself she's fought wearing worse and in worse shape. She slowly gets up, knees buckling immediately. She catches herself but immediately questions the “worst shape” thought. She sees Alia slowly gathering herself so Trick-or-Trixie runs up and drives an elbow into the base of Alia's skull. Saad takes the hit but moves pulls away while Decker curses the fact she's, at best, at half-strength.
“Second wind, second wind,” Trixie mutters to herself.
Decker runs at Alia and delivers a dropkick that sends the royal fighter into a patch of weeds and mud. The sounds Alia makes as she drops make it apparent getting dirty like this wasn't part of her plans for the evening. Of course, a dropkick with a pumpkin on one's head isn't ideal, either, and the gourd play havoc with Trixie's balance as she splats down herself. Worse, the thing doesn't break but instead shifts around. Trixie corrects her orange helmet and gets up.
Alia is already up, too, but still not facing Trixie. Decker grabs Alia around the waist, suplexing her into a dry patch of ground. Again, the pumpkin rattles around but Trixie finds some worth in it when, as Alia rolls through, hops up and punches at Trixie's head. The pumpkin absorbs the blow. Alia is afforded no such protection when Trixie open-hand clubs across her face. Alia takes the hit (Trixie again swears at herself about being, at best, at sixty percent power) but isn't happy about it. She is less happy about what comes next.
“Hey, it's Halloween,” Trixie's voice echoes from the pumpkin, “I better ring your doorbell for sweets!” Decker reaches out, grabs Alia's nipples in her hands and twists and yanks them full power. Alia shrieks loud enough to wake the dead, a mixture of pain and fury that anyone would dare grab her in a way she would totally grab them. Trixie pivots and discuss slings Alia into the woodpile. Decker rushes to slam her body into Alia's, enjoying the sudden momentum. She does not enjoy the sudden boot to the midsection Alia affords her, or the forearm across the pumpkin.
But Trixie slams an elbow across Alia's face and shoves her back against the wood. Decker rakes Alia's eyes and, as the royal born grabs at them, Trixie takes hold of her juggs and gives them a good mauling. Alia clutches at Trixie's hands and rips them from her body. She pushes back, the two women struggling until it turns into a test of strength. Hands entwined, they push and push.
Trixie feels her knees bending.
She pushes back, desperate to not be done in, but Alia – as tired as she may be – is still running on more fuel than Decker. Trixie pushes back to the end but just as she's almost totally down, Alia kicks her in the side and knees her in the crotch. Decker releases Alia's hand and sinks. Saad kicks Trixie across the gourd, finally making some cracks in pumpkin's shell.
Alia catches her breath while looking over the refuse around them for something to use. Her eyes widen. “Oh, this will be delicious,” she huffs. She proceeds to a pile of rusting furnishings and pulls out an aged lamp, its ceramic body chipped and cracked but somehow still in tact. She returns towards Trixie and places it next to the battered fighter. Alia grabs Trixie by the eye holes and pulls her up.
“Making you submit is fruitless in this fight, but I have one move I'm dying to do,” Alia practically sings as she bends Trixie over and pulls her arm around her neck, preparing her for her specialty move, the Djinn's Blessing. “You can't put the genie back in the bottle,” Alia cackles. “Let's see if it works better with the lamp!”
DJINN'S BLESSING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZPkFhuWxkE
The lamp shatters. So does the pumpkin.
Trixie doesn't, but she feels like she did as she rolls on her back. Alia stands above her, tugging at her own bottoms. “You are done,” Alia assures Trixie. “It's just formality now. But I can't have my fun with you hanging up on that post.” Alia straddles Trixie and lowers herself onto Decker's face again, pulling the bottoms so tight that everything is outlined. Everything goes dark from Trixie as the smother takes hold. She flutters and pushes but Alia stays where she is, grinding and fondling the body beneath her. Scratches and twists interrupt rubs and touches that would make it an otherwise wonderful experience after such a beating. As she runs out of breath, Trixie feels the thighs encasing her being to rub harder and faster as Alia picks up the pace and bears down. Trixie feels the start of a shudder from Alia.
Everything goes black.
Trixie's eyes flutter open briefly. Her face is moist. There's a taste in her mouth. Alia is not above her. Just the purple sky and stars. And stalks. She is being dragged. She feels rocks rake her back. She opens her mouth to speak.
Everything goes black.
Trixie's eyes flutter open. She feels wood under her back. Alia's breasts are in her face. She feels rope around her arms. Alia looks down at her and smiles before pressing her bare bosom down again.
Everything goes black.
Trixie opens her eyes. The sky is in front of her, the wood is behind her. Her arms are tied, as is her waist. She feels the night breeze on her naked body. She feels the post lifting slightly and being pushed. A voice speaks out in the silence.
“Ain't gonna do any good,” the official says beyond Trixie's vision. “Rules were she's gotta be dressed as a scarecrow when she's hung.”
The beam drops. Trixie's head slams against it but she stifles sound. Alia's voice cries out, full of exhaustion and hate. “Must I really? She had a pumpkin on her head! Surely that counts!”
“Had,” Trixie hears the official say. “Ain't got one now. No straw in her clothin' even.”
“She's NAKED!” Alia shrieks.
From the corner of Trixie's eye, she sees Alia storm up to the shrugging official. “You coulda fixed that!” He motions to the pile of clothing and straw. “Fix it. She ain't goin' nowhere. You didn't even get the post up.”
Alia is gobsmacked. She sputters would-be protests but knows there's nothing to say. She stomps over to the rags and hurls them at Trixie, who shuts her eyes immediately. The official shakes his head.
Saad draws in a deep breath and walks over to Trixie's prone body. She slaps Trixie, taking all her rage at the official out on the tied up victim, but Trixie's head merely lolls to the side. Alia undoes the ropes and heaves the limp body up. She fumbles with a pair of overalls she found in the rags sliding them up Trixie's legs. She slams the straw hat over Trixie's head, then pulls Trixie's upper torso over her shoulder to lift her up and finish up the overalls.
As Alia buttons the suspenders onto the bib, a now too familiar voice whispers, “You forgot the mask.”
Alia can't react before Trixie's arm clasps around her neck. She feels Trixie lift herself and Alia's face is slammed into the wooden beam for a DDT. She pulls away from Trixie, the fire in her burning too hot for any pain to completely register.
“NO!” Alia bellows. “NO! This is over! YOU ARE DONE!”
Trixie balances herself on her cooked spaghetti legs. “Mama didn't raise no quitter,” she says. “Actually, she didn't really raise me so much as drunkenly watch--”
Alia bolts to torpedo into Trixie, who drops to the ground, entangling and tripping Alia across the beam. Saad picks herself up and whirls around.
“I am sick of you,” Alia snaps. “I am sick of your face!”
Trixie cocks a tired head. “Would you say you hate me? Because I heard that hate is a frui--” Trixie barely ducks as Alia scoops up the rusted wrench from earlier and flings it. As Trixie comes back up, Alia's hands lock onto her throat and squeeze. Trixie's eyes bulges.
“I am finished with you,” Alia says. “In this match and in FAWN.” There is little room for interpretation. Trixie belts Alia in the chest over and over. Saad grunts and flinches, but all her strength is dedicated to one goal and one goal only. Trixie realizes Alia won't release until one of them drops and she isn't strong enough to keep this up.
Desperate, Trixie grabs Alia behind the knees and lifts her. Gagging and sputtering, she wobbles towards the wooden been and simply falls forward. Alia's skull smacks off the wood and the choke breaks. Alia stares up, dazed, into the night sky. It's her turn to hear rummaging. She starts to sit up, but a shadow falls on her.
Trixie splashes down on top of Alia. It's not the best move but about all she can manage. Alia takes the full force of the hit but grouses and spits. “You're lighter than me! You thi--” No other words come, just gurgles, as a familiar wooden drainage shovel slaps across Alia's throat. Above her hovers Trixie's overall-clad ass.
“I wanna try something,” Trixie croaks, placing her feet over the shaft. “Someone did it to me earlier and I want to see if it's just as effective.” Decker sits back while Alia spasms and slaps underneath her. Trixie grabs Alia's hands and clutches them, letting her weight and the shovel do the dirty work. She waits.
And waits.
Finally, there is no movement.
Trixie waits a little longer. Not too long, just… enough.
But to be sure, when Trixie DOES get up from Alia's still body, she picks her up, laying her over her shoulder, walks to the beam, and dumps her onto the wood on her head. Alia rolls out but doesn't respond, seemingly lost. Trixie walks to the rags, finds a flannel top and jeans, and sets to dressing Alia. That's easy. She stuffs the clothing with straw as quickly as she can. Also easy. She grabs the mask from the dirt and slips it over Alia's face.
Easy, and satisfying.
Trixie puts the hat on Alia's head, grabs the ropes, and ties Alia as best she can before grabbing the post and heaving it up.
That's the hard part, but after the rest of tonight…
The cross slides into the hole. Trixie stumbles to the front of the post, unable to conceal her exhaustion. She looks up at the masked, hanging body of Alia Saad. The straw had droops slightly over her face and the hay stuffing in her top and togs bends in the night breeze. Trixie keeps expecting something to happen, like Saad springing from the post and attacking her one last time. But nothing. Just quiet.
Trixie looks to the official, who is now at her side. He looks up at Trixie's handiwork, rubbing his chin. Finally, he speaks. “Yep. That's good enough.” He reaches over and takes Trixie's wrist, raising her arm. “Winner… Trixie Decker.”
The victor's celebration is preempted by an unseen gong. From the further reaches of the field and the depths of the surrounding trees comes a small flock of crows, circling the post and eventually landing on it. Trixie winces, looking to the official. “Those are trained crows, right? Like, they were trained to do that.”
The official rubs his bald head, looking up. He turns to Trixie and offers a non-committal shrug before turning and leaving the clearing.
Some of the crows slowly move from the wooden beams to the post to Alia's arms, hopping closer and closer to her burlap-clad face. Finally, a braver crow hops right next to Alia's face and unleashes a loud, mighty “CAW!” A chain reaction begins and the other crows follow suit, calling out and flapping hard. Slowly, Alia stirs.
From the mask comes Alia's muffled voice. “Wh… what--?” A crow gently pokes the side of the Jordanian's covered face with its beak and instantly the fighter spasms in panic. “What was that? Get off me!”
The crow seems unimpressed by Alia's flailing although several of its brethren take her up on the invitation to vacate. The sole remaining bird hops on top of the straw hat and hunkers down.
“Get me down!” Alia demands.
“But the view up there's so nice,” Trixie replies, giving a tired laugh.
Alia's head turns to the source of the sound. “You.” It's obvious she's also exhausted but the hate is giving her energy. “This insult will not stand.”
“No,” Trixie replies. “It will hang.” Decker turns to leave the field.
“You… disgusting… worthless...” Alia stammers as she searches for more hate to spew. “I had you up here first! I beat you unconscious! I am the better woman here! I am the winner!” She waits, expecting a reply from Decker. But nothing comes. “ANSWER ME!”
The camera pulls out on Alia in the empty field. She continues. “Someone release me from this immediately! This is not how you treat someone of noble birth!” No replies, just quiet, as the camera fades to black to a soundtrack of swears and threats.
From the stalks of corn steps a man with a long, hollow face. He is clad in a dirty encrusted pair of overalls, work boots, and a dusty referee's shirt. He looks dead into the camera and speaks in a deep, almost distant voice.
“Gentle souls of the FAWNation, it is my solemn duty to introduce the next contest,” he says. The wind picks up as he speaks. “This match, with no time limit, no disqualifications, and no count-outs, is a Queen of the Cornfield match.” The camera slowly pans to the crucifix. “The only way the match ends is when one fighter lashes the other to the post, dresses her as a scarecrow, and raises the post.” The camera pans back to the official, who stares into the camera unblinking. “Nothing else is off-limits. The whole field is the ring. My only duty in this match is to declare a winner.”
In the distance, the cawing of crows echoes. The official looks up into the night, as if deciphering their sounds, then back to the camera. “Your combatants for this event are approaching the field. First, from Amman, Jordan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred and twenty-four pounds… the Jewel of the Jordan… the Desert Flower…” His voice finally picks up as he points to his right. “ALIA SAAD!”
ALIA SAAD
The usual ring entrance music is replaced by only the woosh of winds and overwhelming quite of the field. Two cloaked figures appear from the depths of the harvest and pull the stalks apart like a curtain. From the depths steps an obviously annoyed Alia Saad. Her well known white two piece is not on her. Instead, she wears a brown satin bra black lace trim on the cups that nestle her perfect bosom. Black lacy bottoms hug her butt. Long black boots crawl up her legs to just below her tights. She adjusts a brown halter vest, looking at the disgusting surroundings and sneering.
“This is a farm,” Saad says, spitting in disgust. “It stinks of animals, dung, and menial labor. Shame upon the FAWN bookers for sending someone so majestic and perfect here. Was my pathetic, lowly opponent not insult enough?” Alia snaps at one of the figures and removes her vest. She hands it to the cloaked attendant and begins to stretch. “Call the fool out, ghoul,” Alia demands of the official. “This is all beneath me and I wish to move on.”
The camera pans back to the official, still staring straight into the camera.
“Her opponent for this fight, from Flint, Michigan, standing at five feet, three inches and one hundred and thirteen pounds… TRIXIE “JINX” DECKER!”
TRIXIE DECKER:
The official gestures to his left. The camera pans over towards the stalks and, once more, two robed figures step from the depths and part the stalks. Trixie Decker stomps into view, but it's a Trixie FAWN hasn't seen before. She wears a long, dark brown wig of straight, shimmering hair. Her usual black bra and panties set and net shirt art gone. Instead, she wears a white bikini and red boots. On the boots, hastily scrawled in white paint, are the words, “I don't know Arabic” on her right and “And I didn't want to be offensive so I didn't try” on her left.
Plainly, Trixie wears a parody of Alia's longtime ring gear.
Decker stomps into view, her nostrils flaring with exaggerated rage, and tosses her hair about. “THIS IS BENEATH ME, FAWN!” she booms. “HOW DARE YOU PIT ROYALTY SUCH AS MYSELF AGAINST COMMON GUTTER TRASH!” She bites her lower lip and turns her nose up at Alia. “You shall kneel before my majesty this night! So says--” Trixie turns, popping her very shapely butt towards the camera. Scrawled across her bottoms, in red letters, is the phrase, “THE THISTLE OF FLINT!”
The camera immediately cuts to Alia, who glares silently at Decker. Her cheeks begin to burn slightly red. The camera cuts back Trixie, who removes her wig to let her short black locks roll free. “Oh, c'mon, Alia! Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery! 'Sides, it was discounted. I couldn't pass up a deal.” Trixie pauses and offers a thoughtful gaze. “Might wanna talk to FAWN Marketing, though. The packaging said it was a 'Sexy Trash' costume.”
Alia takes a single step forward. “Impudent, puerile whore, I will end you.”
The official raises his hands. “Before the destruction commences, ladies. You understand all the rules?”
“Dress her as a scarecrow, got it,” Decker says, locking eyes with Alia and grinning. “All the way?”
“If you want,” the official says. “But the important ingredients for a scarecrow are clothing stuffed with straw, a hat, and--” The referee withdraws a burlap mask from his overalls. It is adorned with large button eyes, a bottle cap nose, and a stitched mouth. “And a scary face.” He drops the mask to the dirt and steps back. On cue, the cornfield around them erupts in deafening fluttering as thousands of crows bolt into the night sky, squawking with all their might.
The closest thing to a bell this match has.
Alia wastes not a second and barrels into Trixie, sending the pale woman backwards into the fresh dirt. Alia straddles Trixie and begins wailing down on her with slaps, punches, and scratches across the face, all in a stream of hatred vocalized in both English and Arabic.
“I didn't come here to be mocked, you infantile twit!” Alia snaps, raking her nails against Trixie's throat. “Learn your place!” She rockets a balled up fist into Trixie's mouth before the Michigan brawler is able to kick her legs up high enough to nail Alia in the back. Saad's concentration is broken enough for Decker to lift and toss her to the side, letting her scramble to her own feet.
Saad gets up as well and the two women circle each other. “You dare,” Alia hisses, her eyes narrowing. “This is all you are good for. You pick fights with women better than you and mock them. You think you can pull me down to your level?” Alia spits on the ground at Trixie's feet. “I am pure. I am perfection. You are, and will always be, lowly white trash, spewed forth from a long line of dogs no one pitied enough to put out of their misery!”
Trixie only smiles back sweetly. “Pure? Honey, I've seen your matches.”
Alia charges, but this time Trixie meets her in a lock-up. Both women push back and appear evenly matched, but Saad delivers a knee into Trixie's thigh. Decker yelps and buckles, allowing the Flower of Jordan to pull Trixie's head under her arm and fall back in a DDT. The raven-haired woman gets a faceful of dirt, blinding her temporarily. The Princess stomps her boot into the back of the Jinx's head, grinding her face into the dirt. “I know of you,” Alia grunts. “You act like you somehow invented sexuality and that FAWN is your personal groping playground. Like no one's done the things you've done.” Saad throws her head back and offers a dismissive laugh. “If you think I'll recoil in shock and blush at a few touches, you have a lot to learn.”
Trixie blindly flails on her hands and knees, trying to get all the dirt and mud from her eyes. Saad pulls Trixie's hair, yanking her up to a kneel, and her free hand into Trixie's bottoms. The camera follows the outline of a hand obviously making contact with Trixie's holiest of holies, moving about busily. Decker is unable to stifle the shocked gasp, immediately grasping the handing invading her, seeming unsure of what to actually do. Alia places her lips against Trixie's ear and smiles. “And tonight, I will be your head mistress.”
Saad rips a curled claw from Trixie's bottoms at full force. The blood-curdling shriek leaves no question the intensity and depth of the scratch, or how vulnerable the target was. Trixie crumples forward, catching herself with a hand before she lands flat. Her mouth gapes in pain and her eyes, already reddening from the dirt, uncontrollably well up. Still, she stares stunned into the ground.
A boot to the back flattens Trixie. “You are out of your league,” Saad booms. Standing on Trixie's back, Alia cups the goth under the chin and bends her back as far as her torso will allow and then some. “Surrender now. Beg my forgiveness, whore.”
“No submissions,” the stone-faced official says from a rickety folding chair next to the wheelbarrow. He pulls a handkerchief from his bib and towels his brow. “Gotta hoist her up like a scarecrow.”
“She can still beg,” Alia purrs. “Can't you, gutterslut? That's how you survived this long, isn't it? Begging?” Alia leans her weight backwards and Trixie moans in agony. “Begging and swallowing!” Alia places a boot against the back of Decker's head, releases her chin, and stomps Trixie's face into the ground. She leans all of her weight in, slowly twisting the foot into a struggling Decker. “Don't worry. I'll make use of that mouth you love to run so much.”
She kicks Trixie in the side of the head before stomping towards the wheelbarrow. Alia dumps the contents and looks it over, making no effort to hide her disgust at how old and filthy everything is.
Not wanting to really sort through the mish-mash of splinters and tetanus, Alia snags the first thing she really notices – a lead pipe, crusted in dirt. She turns and rushes at Trixie, who's now up on wobbly legs.
Decker wipes her eyes and looks up. What happens next will be slow-mo'ed by FAWNatics over and over for the next week, to appreciate the action of the few seconds it occurs in. Trixie's vision is blurry but returning and she sees the obvious form of Alia closing in with something in her hands. Decker manages to lean backwards in a decent imitation of a Matrix move just as the pipe cuts the air where her noggin was. Decker kicks her food up and slams a toe right into the charging Princess's bread basket. Alia's eyes round out as she is unable to stop her body from driving straight into the obstruction. Her grip loosens and the pipe falls to the dirt. Trixie, however, continues rolling backwards in a flip and kicks her other foot up to catch Alia just under the jaw, snapping the Jordanian's head back. After all's said in done, Trixie's move ends with her further back but on her feet. Alia's move ends with her on her back and clutching her stomach.
Her vision more clear, Trixie looks at the dropped wrench. “Oh, it's that kinda party?” Trixie jumps, landing her butt on Alia's belly, crushing the air from her. The Jinx shoves her thumbs into Alia's eyes and digs her other fingers' nails into the sides of Saad's face. Trixie rises, pulling a sputtering and twitching Alia with her, and leads her over to the long beam of wood. Decker guides her opponent towards the crucifix and releases her eyes. As Alia's hands go to rub out the pain, Trixie turns, grabs up around Alia's head, and snapmares her over. The Princess lands, tailbone first, onto the beam, after which Trixie palms the side of her face and slams her sideways, conking Alia's skull on the wood.
Trixie climbs onto the beam and sits facing Alia, grabbing her foe's arm and yanking it into an armbar. Saad roars in fury, slamming her free fist into the cross over and over. A shadow falls over them. Trixie looks up to see the official. “Just a reminder,” he drawls, “her submission won't be accepted.”
Trixie grins like a cat in Wonderland. “Better than getting a full-sized candy bar while trick-or-treating.” Decker begins twisting Alia's wrist back and forth, even trying to pull her fingers all the way back. All the while, Saad thrashes violently, trying to yank free. Finally, the Desert Flower manages to stand somewhat, still leaning towards where Trixie lies. Alia flexes the trapped arm as best she can while grabbing Trixie's short mane of hair, pulling hard. Alia manages to lift Trixie off the wooden beam a few feet before releasing the hair. Trixie clatters to the post, the hard surface doing her back no favors. She doesn't release the hold, but the impact makes her shudder just enough Alia is able to pull away.
Alia stumbles back, rubbing her elbow and arm, while keeping a watchful eye on Trixie. As Decker rises, Alia rushes and knocks Trixie back with a short arm clothesline. The Flint girl stumbles backwards, her feet catching on the beam before spilling her down. Saad walks back a bit, rotating and testing her arm, before doubling back around and rushing where Trixie is splayed out. When Alia nears the beam, she flips over it and lands across Trixie's breasts with a somersault leg drop.
Somersault Leg Drop:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh-yfvyBhj0
Trixie shudders at the impact, trying to roll away instantly. Saad will have none of it, though, and snaps her legs around Trixie's neck for a headscissor hold. The Jinx pushes and pries on the legs of her captor, and a few times it looks as though she'll escape, but Saad's leg strength is too much. To be sure, though, Alia delivers a few swift punches to Trixie's crown. Another strike momentarily dazes Trixie enough to allow Alia to grab and pull up her wrists.
“Isn't this what you like?” Alia chortles. “You should feel honored to be between the legs of someone so exquisite! I am a living masterpiece!”
“Munch's… Scream,” Trixie forces out.
Alia cocks an eyebrow. “Could it be I am the one woman in FAWN you aren't trying to force yourself upon?” Alia almost sounds insulted. “I am the perfect woman, desired by all.” She tightens her legs on Trixie's throat.
“You're… pretty… ha… hateable,” Trixie says, beginning to flush from the hold.
Alia purses her lips in a grin that would make the Grinch nervous. Something about knowing Trixie hating her made her future plans for the milky-skinned nuisance even pleasing. But, she had to get there and, with every second, it was looking more likely that Trixie would force her way from the hold. Saad's eyes return to the pile of tools. Her eyes widen as she notices a few useful items. Alia pushes herself up, allowing Trixie to gasp for air but still pulling the Michigan native by her tresses. Alia runs along with her prey, quickly spinning and flinging Decker by her hair at the metal chair the official once sat it. Trixie catches the seat in the ribs, rolling over the back and ending in a heap.
As Trixie rolls over, Alia darts to the pile and scoops up a large dented milking bucket and a wooden drainage shovel. As Trixie rolls over onto her belly Alia shoves the bucket over her head then delivers a solid kick to the bucket's side. Trixie rolls onto her back, clutching at the bucket's rim. The Jewel slings the drainage shovel across Decker's throat before dropping to her knees on the Jinx's breasts, letting her weight and gravity do all the damage. Facing the downed woman's lower half, Alia hooks her feed over the shovel's shaft before sitting back atop it. The choking and gurgling is instant, and it immediately picks up Alia's mood. Alia clenches her fists, raises them, and brings them down in a double axehandle to Trixie's exposed belly. And another. And another. The hot, panicked breath of Decker manages to slip from the bucket onto the Princess's butt. It feels like early victory.
“This is done,” Alia announces in a definite tone, as if saying, “Water is wet.” Alia looks to the official, expecting the usual demand for breaking the hold. He stares at her, blankly. His face unnerves her, but he doesn't move. Alia returns her attention to her new toy. Seeing the mock of her white ring gear makes rage bubble up again and she snatches at the top, ripping it free and exposing Trixie's breasts. “So small,” she says, almost pitiful, while mauling and slapping at Decker's B-cups. Alia steals glances down at her own caramel colored magnificent mounds, then looks back to the pale tits and pink nipples in her talons. “No wonder you hate me. I am a reminder of the perfection you will never achieve.”
Alia looks down, expecting some sort of reply. Instead, Decker's body is deathly still. Saad rises, not trusting it, and nudges Trixie with her foot. No response. She pulls the bucket from Decker's head. Sure enough, Trixie is passed out – dead to the world around her. Done quicker than expected, Alia ponders. She isn't surprised, of course. It's obvious this garbage wasn't on her level. Still, Alia celebrates by lowering her undercarriage on Trixie face and grinding in hard while playing with the victim's tits. And it's not that Alia doesn't enjoy it – Trixie's mouth and nose are positioned just perfectly to feel great, and her breasts are firm, even if small, and fun to squeeze and claw – but knowing Decker hates her so much just makes Alia think how much more fun this would be if she weren't unconscious.
Alia stops and looks up. Why hadn't she been declared the winner yet.
“You there!” Alia barks to the official. “Declare my superiority to the--” She stops herself, remembering the stipulations. “Are you really going to make me hang her up? She's out cold.”
The official says nothing but crosses his arms.
Alia stands up, grunting with annoyance, but takes Trixie by the ankles and drags her towards the beam. Alia heaves the still woman up and drops her across it, straddles her and lays her arms out in a perfect “T” formation. Saad then strides over to the ropes, grabs them, and returns to finish the job. Again she straddles Trixie, tying down one arm. Before moving to the other, Alia grins down at the done fighter. “Poor simpleton,” she says, leaning down. “Where's all that brash self-confidence now?”
Trixie's eyes pop open, startling Alia and getting a terrified yelp from her. Decker reaches up, cupping Alia behind the head and brings her down for a loud headbutt while screaming, “HERE, BITCH!” The sound of the heads colliding might leave one to expect at least one skull would be cracked open, but instead Alia pulls back, swearing. Trixie offers more reasons to swear, slashing her dirt caked nails across Alia's eyes. The princess stumbles away, rubbing her eyes, while Trixie undoes the ropes around her right arm and gets up. Her footing is unsure, still feeling the effects from being choked out, but the rope stays in her hand as she rushes and leaps on Alia's back. The rope finds its way around Alia's neck and Trixie cinches it, choking the royal rumbler. Locking her legs around Saad's torso, Trixie wraps the rope forearm and rides the blustering Jordanian like a bucking bronco.
Alia bounds from side to side, her face quickly looking like a shocked plumb, and Trixie manages to stay on for a good eight seconds before dismounting. Decker's feet hit the dirt and she rushes towards the emptied wheelbarrow, Alia in tow, before slinging her enemy towards it. Alia goes ass over tea kettle, scraping herself on the rusty cart's edges as it, too, topples to the side. Trixie bends over, placing her hands on her knees, and inhaling deeply, before standing up straight again and feeling the scratches on her bare tits. “Just couldn't resist my precious collectable miniatures, huh?” Decker runs towards Alia, hopping onto the cart and dropping herself onto the shambles of the princess. Decker's ass lands flat across Alia's large breasts, and the goth seems pretty comfy.
Decker takes Alia by the hair and yanks her up, grinding Saad's face into the white crotch of Trixie's bottoms. The Jinx slides her legs around Alia's neck and squeezes a scissorhold. Alia immediately begins to dig her nails into Trixie's hips, leaving long red scratches, but the attacker doesn't seem to mind. The sensation of Alia struggling is offering more pleasure than the nails offer pain. Trixie bites her lower lip as she works her crotch harder against Alia's face, but then makes a sour face. “Nope, I still hate you too much to enjoy this.” Decker punches down, right into Alia's forehead, before releasing the scissorhold. Alia falls flat, clutching her head and breathing hard.
Trixie scoops Alia up in a fireman’s carry and hoists her high, then drops her onto the wheelbarrow. The metal lets out a nice metallic gong sound but more than stands up to the impact. The same cannot be said of Alia, who slides to the dirt and clutches the ribs that landed first. Saad stumbles up and away but Trixie hones in on her, kicking Alia in the belly and folding her down. Decker takes a handful of hair and yanks the FAWN vet to the crucifix.
“Turnabout, fairplay, all that shit,” Trixie mutters as she thrusts Alia's head between her thighs and lifts her up for a powerbomb, slamming her down across the long post. Alia shudders at the hit and seems stunned, only capable of staring up into the night sky as if the stars had an answer for her. Trixie pulls Alia up the beam into proper scarecrow formation, laying her arms across the crossbeam. Decker hurries over to where she dropped the rope, snags it, and runs back to Alia. There's no way she'll just lay there and let this happen, so Trixie decides to give her something else to worry about – air.
Decker takes a seat on Alia's face while she busies herself tying the fighter's right arm to the crossbeam. She loops the rope around Alia's forearm a few times before trying for the post, but it is not to be. Saad musters up all her strength, palms Trixie's butt and shoves her off. Decker flounders forward but keeps her footing – at least until she stops and turns around, when an already-up Alia delivers a backhand that rightfully should scramble Trixie's brains. Instead, catching herself, Trixie turns back to Alia and punches her across the jaw. Alia stumbles back this time, clutching her chin, but hurls a hit to Trixie's face, slamming into her cheek. The impact barely lands before Decker shoots a fist into Alia's throat. Saad gags and backs away, but Trixie grabs her by the forearm and yanks her forward into a clothesline.
Alia goes down like a ton of bricks. Trixie watches her fall and celebrates by raking her boots across Alia's eyes. It's not something Trixie would normally do to someone but, as far as Alia is concerned, the usual rules don't apply. “I don't know what it is about you,” Trixie says as she takes Alia's arm and twists it behind her back. Decker sits in the dirt behind the princess, pushing the tracked limb upwards while she wraps a scissorhold around Alia's torso. “You're hot. I should be all about you. But I rewatched all your matches before this and, frankly, you're just an asshole. Like, I found myself rooting for Jezalee Cook and Donna Dunbar over you.”
Alia winces, but offers no cry. Instead, through gritted teeth, she hisses, “Filth is always attracted to more filth.”
“That's it. The arrogance,” Trixie replies, locking her feet at the ankles. “Even by FAWN standards, you're pretty far up your own ass.” Trixie considers pushing the arm further up but it's obvious it won't go without causing severe damage, and even she has her limits. “I think I'd rather be trapped in a room with Emery, Usher, Portia, Lawson, and Chrissy Daniel having a 'Who Can Boast Loudest' contest than listen to your conceited mouth run anymore.”
Alia pounds the ground with her one free hand before bellowing, “It's not arrogance when I can back it up!” She reaches back for any part of Trixie to grab and slash but Decker sock her in the back of the skull.
Trixie's legs unlock and she rises, pulling Alia up by the arm. She pulls the arm from behind Alia's back and moves it over her head. “Doin' a bang-up job of that, by the way,” Trixie said before driving a heartpunch between Alia's boobs.
HEART PUNCH:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ef5T3Ir2yY0
The hit throws Alia backwards, knocking her glorious treasures briefly from her top's cups. She scrambles backwards, holding the point of impact while fuming upwards at Trixie.
“See, I just touched really big boobs and didn't even like it,” Decker moaned.
Alia snaps to a crouching position, like an animal about to spring on prey. Things have to change, and she knows just how to do it. She leaps up and…
… into the corn, vanishing into the stalks.
Trixie blinks. “I… wait...” Decker looks to the official. “Can she just go--”
“The field is the ring,” the old man says sleepily. “No DQ. No count-outs.”
Trixie looks back to the corn ahead of her. “God damn it.” She is angry because Alia is sneaky, but angrier that Alia thought of this first. Trixie returns to the pile of tools and sorts through for something… anything… and she finds an old maglite. She heaves the two-foot flashlight in her hands. It's heavy and solid. Trixie had once been pummeled with one in an indie fed long ago so she knew it could do some damage. She grabs the rope as well and, before vanishing into the corn, picks up and puts back on her bikini top.
Trixie turns the light on and slinks into the ears of corn. It's dense and the light barely offers any help beyond seeing that, yup, there's still totally corn all around her. She searches and searches for Alia, occasionally stumbling over pumpkins FAWN crew undoubtedly tossed into the field just in case. She also trips over a long forgotten and rusted hoe and a few other tools. But no Alia.
Finally, Trixie emerges in a second clearing in the field. It's dark here. No crops have been planted in a long time and it's overgrown and littered with garbage, furniture and refuse possibly tossed out when FAWN bought and repurposed the Madhouse. As she's scanning for Alia, the maglite goes out. Trixie opens it and pulls the batteries out, hoping to jostle them to get it to work, but they're so crusted and ancient it's a wonder the light shown as long as it dead. Still, the maglite is good for a weapon.
Trixie scans the clearing again and, this time, sees Alia hunkered down on all fours between an abandoned table and a pile of wood. Trixie bolts at her and leaps, her weapon raised. But neither the maglite nor Trixie find any Alia to clobber. Instead, she slams through a frameless, discarded mirror that had been propped between the rotting furniture and woodpile. Trixie hollers mirror debris explodes around her. She looks behind her only to see Alia standing above her, clutching a discarded fence post like a cudgel.
Trixie doesn't even get her arm up to defend herself. Alia clobbers her across her face, laying her out. Everything spins. She tries to push herself up, mirror pieces scratching at her palms, but Saad does a phenomenal cave woman impersonation and brings the post down into her stomach. The post goes up once more and comes down right where Trixie's head should be, but Decker manages to move out of the way. Trixie manages to plant a boot in Alia's stomach and shove her back a few feet while she clutches onto the woodpile to pull herself up.
The Michigan brawler's equilibrium is off because of the club hit. Everything wobbles around her and her feet seem to have trouble finding solid ground to stomp on to. Unfortunately for Trixie, Alia is having no such problems and has long recovered from any exhaustion she was suffering while waiting for her enemy to find her. Alia drops her weapon and moves in on Trixie, hugging her around the waist and sending her overhead in a belly-to-belly suplex.
BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3pVgFXifDY
Trixie lands on top of more wood drive and splinters and jacked furniture remnants stab up into her back. Alia, on top of her, rubs against her and smiles down at Decker. She seems different than before. There's been a shift in her attitude and Trixie definitely doesn't care for it. As Alia pushes herself up she's sure to slowly drag her sweaty breasts up Trixie's face. Alia pulled the raven-haired woman up by her mane. Trixie can still barely see straight. Alia's nails dig into Trixie's side, twisting the meat as she lifts her and drops her over an outstretched knee in an inverted atomic crop. Decker clutches herself and pushes away but Alia won't release. Saad pulls Decker into a close embrace, smashing her larger breasts into Trixie's, paintbrushing them and grinning, before again lifting and dropping Trixie with an inverted atomic drop.
Decker drops to her knees, holding herself and trying not to vocalize all the pain she's in. Alia just grabs her by the back of the head and shoves Trixie's face between her legs, dragging the pail woman's face across her crotch slowly.
“Weak,” is all Alia says.
Saad reaches down and scoops Trixie up, heaving her above her head in a fireman's carry, then drops her down and lets Decker's neck slam across her knee in a fireman's carry neckbreaker.
FIREMAN'S CARRY NECKBREAKER:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=svwKtzRYbRU
The Flint girl weakly tries to reach for her neck to comfort it but she's just too low on energy. Alia puts a boot against Trixie's left check and turns her head. Saad stomps down on Trixie's face with a sense of victory. “Weak,” she says again, “and pathetic.” She smiles at Trixie, showing off her perfect white teeth. “And, I'm guessing, out of things to say. You talk so much. I know you've been told that before.” Trixie grabs at the boot holding her face down, to which Alia hauls her up by the hair. Decker can feet Saad's talons digging into the back of her scalp and raking as Alia guides the feeble fighter back the woodpile and begins slamming her face into it over and over. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, EIGHT, NINE – TEN times! Each impact is harder and faster than the last, but with the final slam Alia rakes Trixie's forehead across the pile before flinging her backwards to the ground again.
Alia offers a smug flex, showing off her muscles. Her hands then trail down as if presenting her body for glorious inspection. “As I said, it's not arrogance when you really are better than everyone around you.”
Alia lays down onto Trixie's legs and glides her body upwards slowly, rubbing every inch of her perfection against Decker's sweat-soaked, dirt-caked wreck, until they are eye to eye. Alia takes Trixie's wrists and holds them above her head while her feet intertwine with Trixie's. It's a perfect grapevine and would be useful in a match where pins mattered, Trixie thinks. However, it's still useful to Alia in a moment where proving dominance matters even more.
“Hate is a delicious fruit that falls from the tree of jealousy,” Alia says, once, again rubbing her breasts against Trixie's to emphasize their size difference, pushing them as if to hold Decker's rack at bay or engulf them. “That tree is crooked and gnarled and hard to look at, but it's strong and has deep roots.” Alia rests her head against Trixie's so the grappled woman has no choice but to look into her soft brown eyes. Alia's sweet, hot breathe warms Decker's face and the princess's plump lips graze Trixie's as she continues to speak. “But the seed which grows that tree is a thistly little burr of desire.”
Trixie feels Alia's body push into hers harder. “Deny it all you want, but it's there.” The hands clutching Trixie's wrist tighten more and more until the goth feels her fingers beginning to tingle. “I'm everything you want and it kills you. And I'm everything you wish to be and it breaks you. Nothing would give you more meaning than to be cowed by me, taken as a toy and trotted around. It would give you some meaning.” Trixie opens her mouth to protest and Alia pressed her face harder against hers. The two couldn't be closer without melting into each other.
“Everything you've ever done – every bit of carnality, every drop of violence – is nothing to me,” Alia purrs. “I assure you, I've done things you can't fathom. Commits acts of love and cruelty beyond anything an ignorant mind like yours could hope to comprehend.” The smile widens and a hot exhale moistens Trixie's face. “Sometimes at the same time.” Alia's stare burrows through Trixie. “That's why I find you pitiable. You think you're so interesting because you grope and touch and fondle. No. You're sad and empty. In an unbridled fight of passion and pain with me, you would never recover.”
Alia pushes herself up slightly, unhooks her top, and rests her breasts on Trixie's face. Decker can only take it, too spent to fight. Alia presses down. “Perhaps I could give you what you want – a taste of me – to help you move past these desires and onto the rest of your worthless life. Or perhaps...” One of Alia's hands dips past the waistband of Trixie's bottoms. “Perhaps I should give you just a taste so you spend all your long days pining for what you're unworthy of.”
Trixie feels unseen digits massage and invade. She gapes at the touch, but she also remembers the earlier scratch. Her undercarriage does as well, and is still sore at the touch. All the disgust in Alia seems outmatched by base animal desire at her touch, though, and Trixie feels her wants and her loins considering betraying her with every stroke. But Alia pulls her breasts from Trixie's sweaty, oily face and sneers down at the held woman. Instantly, the hand on her womanhood turns to a talon and bites deep.
“Foolish little tart,” Alia chides. “Someone such as myself doesn't give anything. I take.” The claw wrenches and pulls, leaving Trixie no choice but to cry out in agony and frustration. Saad withdraws the hand and shoves it into Trixie's mouth, pulling her up to her feet with it.
“First off, I take the fake glory you've attempted to wrap yourself in by wearing anything close to my original attire,” Alia booms, ripping the top from Trixie's body. She yanks the bottoms to her ankles, leaving Decker's body stark. The moments of rest have Trixie's head spinning less but still aching. Alia adds to the aches by belting her in the stomach. Decker begins to fold as pain explodes in her belly only to be met with a right cross. Trixie stumbles back, but the bottoms are still around her ankles and she desperately tries not to splay out again. Alia sends a kick into Trixie's midsection that knocks all the air from her and drops her to her knees. She feels a boot on the back of her head.
“Once again, you kneel before me,” Alia says. “Admit my superiority. Call my name out and honor me as your better and I will consider a swift, merciful end to you.”
Trixie braces her arms, pushing her hands into the filth and trash, and replies with a low by clear, “Kiss my ass.” She feels the boot leave the back of her head.
“I'm sure some find your defiance enjoyable, perhaps even intriguing and exciting,” Alia drones, “but I find it tiresome.” She kicks Trixie in the same spot she clubbed her earlier, spilling her onto her side. “Now, I take what's mine.” Trixie slowly pushes herself up to her knees and looks to Alia, but Saad is not there. Behind her, she hears the woman's voice. “You took so long to find me I had time to make something for you. Here, let us be festive.” Suddenly, everything is dark from Trixie as something heavy shoves over her head. The inside is wet and stringy by smells familiar. “Oops, I put it on wrong.” Trixie feels the object twist tightly around her neck until there is light in front of her – light in the form of a Jack-o-Lantern's face. Trixie's hands feel at the pumpkin around her head when Alia spins her around. Through the eye holes Trixie can truly drink in the pleasure this is giving Saad. Saad, taken by the spirit of the season, sings to Decker.
“Trick or treat
Taste Defeat
Your humiliation is far
From Complete!”
Alia's hand clutches around Trixie's throat and lifts her up, dropping her in a choke slam. Proud of herself for having run the fight, Alia leans in and peeks into the pumpkin's carving. “I know we're s'posed to wait but maybe I should blow your candle out now.”
A perfect moment of gloating is ruined by stance and lack of foresight. As Alia straddles Trixie to ridicule her, Decker uses all the will she can muster to rocket her knee into Saad's barely covered loins. Not the hardest hist Alia's taken in her life but more than she expected for a woman she'd spent so long beating on and degrading. As Alia stumbles back and goes to her knees, silently mouthing pain, Trixie pushes up to a sitting position and fumbles with the pumpkin. Sadly, it's really stuck on. Not her proudest moment.
Not that any of the last ten or so minutes had been proud for her.
But Trixie reminds herself she's fought wearing worse and in worse shape. She slowly gets up, knees buckling immediately. She catches herself but immediately questions the “worst shape” thought. She sees Alia slowly gathering herself so Trick-or-Trixie runs up and drives an elbow into the base of Alia's skull. Saad takes the hit but moves pulls away while Decker curses the fact she's, at best, at half-strength.
“Second wind, second wind,” Trixie mutters to herself.
Decker runs at Alia and delivers a dropkick that sends the royal fighter into a patch of weeds and mud. The sounds Alia makes as she drops make it apparent getting dirty like this wasn't part of her plans for the evening. Of course, a dropkick with a pumpkin on one's head isn't ideal, either, and the gourd play havoc with Trixie's balance as she splats down herself. Worse, the thing doesn't break but instead shifts around. Trixie corrects her orange helmet and gets up.
Alia is already up, too, but still not facing Trixie. Decker grabs Alia around the waist, suplexing her into a dry patch of ground. Again, the pumpkin rattles around but Trixie finds some worth in it when, as Alia rolls through, hops up and punches at Trixie's head. The pumpkin absorbs the blow. Alia is afforded no such protection when Trixie open-hand clubs across her face. Alia takes the hit (Trixie again swears at herself about being, at best, at sixty percent power) but isn't happy about it. She is less happy about what comes next.
“Hey, it's Halloween,” Trixie's voice echoes from the pumpkin, “I better ring your doorbell for sweets!” Decker reaches out, grabs Alia's nipples in her hands and twists and yanks them full power. Alia shrieks loud enough to wake the dead, a mixture of pain and fury that anyone would dare grab her in a way she would totally grab them. Trixie pivots and discuss slings Alia into the woodpile. Decker rushes to slam her body into Alia's, enjoying the sudden momentum. She does not enjoy the sudden boot to the midsection Alia affords her, or the forearm across the pumpkin.
But Trixie slams an elbow across Alia's face and shoves her back against the wood. Decker rakes Alia's eyes and, as the royal born grabs at them, Trixie takes hold of her juggs and gives them a good mauling. Alia clutches at Trixie's hands and rips them from her body. She pushes back, the two women struggling until it turns into a test of strength. Hands entwined, they push and push.
Trixie feels her knees bending.
She pushes back, desperate to not be done in, but Alia – as tired as she may be – is still running on more fuel than Decker. Trixie pushes back to the end but just as she's almost totally down, Alia kicks her in the side and knees her in the crotch. Decker releases Alia's hand and sinks. Saad kicks Trixie across the gourd, finally making some cracks in pumpkin's shell.
Alia catches her breath while looking over the refuse around them for something to use. Her eyes widen. “Oh, this will be delicious,” she huffs. She proceeds to a pile of rusting furnishings and pulls out an aged lamp, its ceramic body chipped and cracked but somehow still in tact. She returns towards Trixie and places it next to the battered fighter. Alia grabs Trixie by the eye holes and pulls her up.
“Making you submit is fruitless in this fight, but I have one move I'm dying to do,” Alia practically sings as she bends Trixie over and pulls her arm around her neck, preparing her for her specialty move, the Djinn's Blessing. “You can't put the genie back in the bottle,” Alia cackles. “Let's see if it works better with the lamp!”
DJINN'S BLESSING:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZPkFhuWxkE
The lamp shatters. So does the pumpkin.
Trixie doesn't, but she feels like she did as she rolls on her back. Alia stands above her, tugging at her own bottoms. “You are done,” Alia assures Trixie. “It's just formality now. But I can't have my fun with you hanging up on that post.” Alia straddles Trixie and lowers herself onto Decker's face again, pulling the bottoms so tight that everything is outlined. Everything goes dark from Trixie as the smother takes hold. She flutters and pushes but Alia stays where she is, grinding and fondling the body beneath her. Scratches and twists interrupt rubs and touches that would make it an otherwise wonderful experience after such a beating. As she runs out of breath, Trixie feels the thighs encasing her being to rub harder and faster as Alia picks up the pace and bears down. Trixie feels the start of a shudder from Alia.
Everything goes black.
Trixie's eyes flutter open briefly. Her face is moist. There's a taste in her mouth. Alia is not above her. Just the purple sky and stars. And stalks. She is being dragged. She feels rocks rake her back. She opens her mouth to speak.
Everything goes black.
Trixie's eyes flutter open. She feels wood under her back. Alia's breasts are in her face. She feels rope around her arms. Alia looks down at her and smiles before pressing her bare bosom down again.
Everything goes black.
Trixie opens her eyes. The sky is in front of her, the wood is behind her. Her arms are tied, as is her waist. She feels the night breeze on her naked body. She feels the post lifting slightly and being pushed. A voice speaks out in the silence.
“Ain't gonna do any good,” the official says beyond Trixie's vision. “Rules were she's gotta be dressed as a scarecrow when she's hung.”
The beam drops. Trixie's head slams against it but she stifles sound. Alia's voice cries out, full of exhaustion and hate. “Must I really? She had a pumpkin on her head! Surely that counts!”
“Had,” Trixie hears the official say. “Ain't got one now. No straw in her clothin' even.”
“She's NAKED!” Alia shrieks.
From the corner of Trixie's eye, she sees Alia storm up to the shrugging official. “You coulda fixed that!” He motions to the pile of clothing and straw. “Fix it. She ain't goin' nowhere. You didn't even get the post up.”
Alia is gobsmacked. She sputters would-be protests but knows there's nothing to say. She stomps over to the rags and hurls them at Trixie, who shuts her eyes immediately. The official shakes his head.
Saad draws in a deep breath and walks over to Trixie's prone body. She slaps Trixie, taking all her rage at the official out on the tied up victim, but Trixie's head merely lolls to the side. Alia undoes the ropes and heaves the limp body up. She fumbles with a pair of overalls she found in the rags sliding them up Trixie's legs. She slams the straw hat over Trixie's head, then pulls Trixie's upper torso over her shoulder to lift her up and finish up the overalls.
As Alia buttons the suspenders onto the bib, a now too familiar voice whispers, “You forgot the mask.”
Alia can't react before Trixie's arm clasps around her neck. She feels Trixie lift herself and Alia's face is slammed into the wooden beam for a DDT. She pulls away from Trixie, the fire in her burning too hot for any pain to completely register.
“NO!” Alia bellows. “NO! This is over! YOU ARE DONE!”
Trixie balances herself on her cooked spaghetti legs. “Mama didn't raise no quitter,” she says. “Actually, she didn't really raise me so much as drunkenly watch--”
Alia bolts to torpedo into Trixie, who drops to the ground, entangling and tripping Alia across the beam. Saad picks herself up and whirls around.
“I am sick of you,” Alia snaps. “I am sick of your face!”
Trixie cocks a tired head. “Would you say you hate me? Because I heard that hate is a frui--” Trixie barely ducks as Alia scoops up the rusted wrench from earlier and flings it. As Trixie comes back up, Alia's hands lock onto her throat and squeeze. Trixie's eyes bulges.
“I am finished with you,” Alia says. “In this match and in FAWN.” There is little room for interpretation. Trixie belts Alia in the chest over and over. Saad grunts and flinches, but all her strength is dedicated to one goal and one goal only. Trixie realizes Alia won't release until one of them drops and she isn't strong enough to keep this up.
Desperate, Trixie grabs Alia behind the knees and lifts her. Gagging and sputtering, she wobbles towards the wooden been and simply falls forward. Alia's skull smacks off the wood and the choke breaks. Alia stares up, dazed, into the night sky. It's her turn to hear rummaging. She starts to sit up, but a shadow falls on her.
Trixie splashes down on top of Alia. It's not the best move but about all she can manage. Alia takes the full force of the hit but grouses and spits. “You're lighter than me! You thi--” No other words come, just gurgles, as a familiar wooden drainage shovel slaps across Alia's throat. Above her hovers Trixie's overall-clad ass.
“I wanna try something,” Trixie croaks, placing her feet over the shaft. “Someone did it to me earlier and I want to see if it's just as effective.” Decker sits back while Alia spasms and slaps underneath her. Trixie grabs Alia's hands and clutches them, letting her weight and the shovel do the dirty work. She waits.
And waits.
Finally, there is no movement.
Trixie waits a little longer. Not too long, just… enough.
But to be sure, when Trixie DOES get up from Alia's still body, she picks her up, laying her over her shoulder, walks to the beam, and dumps her onto the wood on her head. Alia rolls out but doesn't respond, seemingly lost. Trixie walks to the rags, finds a flannel top and jeans, and sets to dressing Alia. That's easy. She stuffs the clothing with straw as quickly as she can. Also easy. She grabs the mask from the dirt and slips it over Alia's face.
Easy, and satisfying.
Trixie puts the hat on Alia's head, grabs the ropes, and ties Alia as best she can before grabbing the post and heaving it up.
That's the hard part, but after the rest of tonight…
The cross slides into the hole. Trixie stumbles to the front of the post, unable to conceal her exhaustion. She looks up at the masked, hanging body of Alia Saad. The straw had droops slightly over her face and the hay stuffing in her top and togs bends in the night breeze. Trixie keeps expecting something to happen, like Saad springing from the post and attacking her one last time. But nothing. Just quiet.
Trixie looks to the official, who is now at her side. He looks up at Trixie's handiwork, rubbing his chin. Finally, he speaks. “Yep. That's good enough.” He reaches over and takes Trixie's wrist, raising her arm. “Winner… Trixie Decker.”
The victor's celebration is preempted by an unseen gong. From the further reaches of the field and the depths of the surrounding trees comes a small flock of crows, circling the post and eventually landing on it. Trixie winces, looking to the official. “Those are trained crows, right? Like, they were trained to do that.”
The official rubs his bald head, looking up. He turns to Trixie and offers a non-committal shrug before turning and leaving the clearing.
Some of the crows slowly move from the wooden beams to the post to Alia's arms, hopping closer and closer to her burlap-clad face. Finally, a braver crow hops right next to Alia's face and unleashes a loud, mighty “CAW!” A chain reaction begins and the other crows follow suit, calling out and flapping hard. Slowly, Alia stirs.
From the mask comes Alia's muffled voice. “Wh… what--?” A crow gently pokes the side of the Jordanian's covered face with its beak and instantly the fighter spasms in panic. “What was that? Get off me!”
The crow seems unimpressed by Alia's flailing although several of its brethren take her up on the invitation to vacate. The sole remaining bird hops on top of the straw hat and hunkers down.
“Get me down!” Alia demands.
“But the view up there's so nice,” Trixie replies, giving a tired laugh.
Alia's head turns to the source of the sound. “You.” It's obvious she's also exhausted but the hate is giving her energy. “This insult will not stand.”
“No,” Trixie replies. “It will hang.” Decker turns to leave the field.
“You… disgusting… worthless...” Alia stammers as she searches for more hate to spew. “I had you up here first! I beat you unconscious! I am the better woman here! I am the winner!” She waits, expecting a reply from Decker. But nothing comes. “ANSWER ME!”
The camera pulls out on Alia in the empty field. She continues. “Someone release me from this immediately! This is not how you treat someone of noble birth!” No replies, just quiet, as the camera fades to black to a soundtrack of swears and threats.