Post by bigfan on May 7, 2017 1:18:32 GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer declares, “your following contest is scheduled for one fall…”
“ONE FALL!” shout a number of fans from the front row, prompting a bemused smirk from the man in the monkey suit.
“… with a 20-minute time limit,” he resumes. “Introducing first, hailing from Reading, Berkshire in the United Kingdom. She stands five feet five inches tall and weighs in this evening at one hundred and twenty-three pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
HONEY HARRIS:
“BEST YOU EVER”:
As the first chords of Michelle Branch’s “Best You Ever” begin to pulse over the sound system, Honey grabs the edges of the curtain on both sides and BURSTS through onto the stage, making her first appearance in the FAWN Arena. The young, blonde British spitfire skips to a halt on one foot, her left knee raised as she pumps her right fist to the crowd. “C’MON, LET’S GO!!!!!” Harris bellows, a bright smile gracing her youthful features—and while the crowd may not know her particularly well yet, their first instinct tells them that this is a woman worth cheering for.
Honey makes her way toward the ring at a brisk pace, but not going so fast that she bypasses slapping any offered hand or occasionally pausing for an embrace. The closer she gets to the ring, the louder it seems that the crowd cheers, as they gain more of an opportunity to take her in. The FAWN rookie’s well-shaped legs are bared, a hint of gold bikini style bottoms (with black trim) just visible beneath the hem a gold tee. Upon the front read the words “SWEET AS” in black type, directly above an illustration of a pot of honey. On the back, below the words “BUT WITH A” is a cartoon bee abdomen—complete with stinger.
Harris practically skips up the ring steps, that smile never leaving her features as she wipes her boots on the skirt of the apron. Honey slips through the ropes and mounts the second rope, tapping her fist to her heart twice before blowing a kiss to the full house. Maintaining her perch, the blonde’s hands move to the hem of her shirt, which she peels overhead to reveal a bikini top with matches her black trimmed gold shorts. Balling the garment in her right hand, the Brit cocks her arm and scans the crowd—a gesture which brings a few FAWNatics hands rising in anticipation. Choosing a lucky fan, Harris sends the shirt flying into the crowd.
Honey’s music fades, and the cheers of the FAWNatics soon find themselves competing with the blaring sound of police sirens. Those sirens are soon joined, and overwhelmed, by an industrial dirge, which serves as the announcer’s cue to step forward again. “And her opponent… Hailing from Kyoto, Japan, she stands five feet three inches tall and weighs in tonight at one hundred and twenty-five pounds… Ladies and gentlemen, she is the heir to greatness… The Future of FAWN… She is… AVVVEEERRRYYY CHHHRRRIIISSSTTTIIIAAANNN!!!!!”
AVERY CHRISTIAN:
”PROBLEM”:
As Natalia Kills’ “Problem” pumps over the speakers, the surname proves all the inducement the FAWNatics need to start jeering, even before the CEO’s daughter strides onto the stage. Though lacking her mother’s height, that is the starkest difference between them: she possesses her mother’s long, raven black hair and her curvaceous frame, the latter possibly making up for being compressed to five foot three inches by making each curve seem even more pronounced.
One quick glance at Avery is enough to convince the crowd that she is built to make exquisite use of the front sleeper, and her togs seems to have been designed with that proficiency VERY much in mind: Christian wears a white one piece with a neckline that doesn’t so much plunge as it does dives, stopping maybe an inch above Avery’s navel. Black straps rise over her shoulder and crisscross her back, with black trim surrounding the leg holes at the bottom of the garment. Her pads, wrist tape and boots are all gold—a harbinger of success for the self-professed “Future of FAWN”?
If the FAWNatics expect Bethany’s daughter to try to court their favor, they are quickly rebuffed as Avery’s only response to their vocal scorn is a dismissive wave of the hand to each side of the railing as she stalks her way toward the ring. And as she approaches the ring, the sassy swish of her hips alerts the crowd to the fact that the Christian progeny is very much a “dual purpose threat”, her hindquarters looking every bit the threat her cleavage presents.
Ascending the ringsteps, Avery slips through the ropes and promptly swivels back toward the rubber coated steel cables. Stepping one foot on the bottom strand, Christian the Younger rises up and leans over the top rope, giving the hard cam a most generous look at her bounty—and regarding the camera with a smirk that says, “Yeah… I know you’re looking. And your girl here is gonna get an even better glimpse than you are!”
After patting both women down for foreign objects (and receiving a vengeful scolding from Avery when she deems his hands to have been a little TOO friendly), the referee calls for the bell, bringing both women circling out of their corners. Once they navigate near enough, the British blonde extends her hand to her opponent, apparently not ready to hold her previous opponent’s dismissal of the gesture against Avery. “May the best woman, yeah?” Harris says, displaying an encouraging smile that demonstrates no ill will toward her fellow competitor. Avery regards the hand for a moment, then reaches out…
… and slaps away the offered handshake.
Actions speak louder than words, which is a good thing as Avery doesn’t offer any to accompany her gesture. “Manners,” Honey sighs. “Guess I’ve finally had my first encounter with the proverbial ‘Ugly American.’ Everyone else I’ve met has been SO nice…”
Harris and Christian lunge into one another, tying up in a classic collar and elbow. For a few seconds, the result is a stalemate, but then—in spite of having two inches and only giving up two pounds to her foe—the powerful, buxom brunette begins to force the British beauty into retreat. Eventually, Honey’s back comes into contact with the ropes, which prompts the official to step in and call for a break. Avery seems in no hurry to comply, so he begins to count, reaching “THREE!” before the American beauty disengages and steps back, hands raised. Honey’s eyes remain focused on Christian, keenly alert for the first hint of treachery…
… but none comes.
Avery beckons her opponent forward with a small wave of her hands, on Honey gives the brunette the tiniest of nods before pushing away from the cables and locking up with Christian once again. To the blonde Brit’s credit, the stalemate lingers a few seconds longer this time, but in the end the results prove eerily similar, the only difference on this occasion being that instead of into the ropes, Avery drives her foe back into the near corner. Again, the referee calls for a break, but Christian still shows no sense of urgency. On this occasion, the ref’s count reaches “FOUR!” before the brunette breaks, stepping back and raising her hands. Again, Honey monitors her foe’s retreat…
… only this time, Avery is surreptitiously studying her prey as well. And at the first sign of the Brit dropping her guard, Christian’s hand flashes forward, her nails raking across Honey’s eyes. The blonde lets out a loud shriek as she finds herself momentarily blinded, and a moment proves all that Avery needs, plunging a hand into her opponent’s flaxen locks and spinning Honey to face the corner. Before the international import’s vision can clear, Christian SLAMS Honey’s face into the leather padding of the turnbuckle not once, not twice, but three times before the voluptuous brunette spins her foe once again. Leaning that curvaceous frame of hers into Harris, Avery purrs as she snatches her foe’s wrist, “There’s a word for nice girls in this business, babe. And that word is, ‘LOOOOO-SER!’”
Setting her feet, Christian launches Honey across the ring with a mighty whip. No sooner does the blonde pass her foe does Avery set off after her, sprinting across the ring in hot pursuit. Her vision finally starting to clear as she nears her destination, Harris swivels into the collision with the corner, turning her back to the buckles…
And the British beauty’s eyes have JUST enough time to widen in alarm before Honey is BURIED underneath one hundred and twenty-five pounds of curvaceous American flesh. Avery SLAMS into her opponent with enough force to knock the wind out of the blonde, Honey’s cheeks puffing as she gasps for air. Christian takes a small step to the side, allowing Harris to stumble away from the buckles on quaking legs. Chuckling softly, Bethany’s baby girl plants a palm between Honey’s shoulderblades, and a forceful shove overcomes the Brit’s gams, dropping Honey to her knees.
As Avery circles her wheezing opponent, she imparts a little more Christian family wisdom. “In the business,” she says with a sly grin, “you can either BE a bytch, or you can be someone else’s bytch. And I gotta tell ya…”
The curvy brunette grabs two handfuls of Honey’s blonde mane.
“I gonna ENJOY making you my bytch.”
Avery abruptly STUFFS Honey’s face into her cavernous cleavage, the brunette tightly wrapping her arms around Harris’ noggin as she drops to her back, pulling the Brit down on top of her. Once her back hits the canvas, Christian’s gams snake around the blonde’s midsection, Avery crossing her ankles and clamping down on her opponent with a crushing bodyscissors.
Christian constricts her legs, forcing an anguished gasp passed Honey’s lips—a gasp that is engulfed by the sweat slick, clammy flesh of Avery’s cleavage. Honey does everything she can to twist her head within its prison, desperate to find any source of air, but unable to find NEARLY enough to replenish her lungs. In mere moments, the British beauty finds herself growing dangerously lightheaded…
Fortunately for Harris, however, Avery releases her scissors and shoves the blonde off her, sending Honey spilling to the mat, her greasy features wide eyed as she gulps down air with abandon. Christian rolls to her side beside her foe, and finds herself unable to resist the urge to reach over and give Honey’s cheek a tight pinch. “Ahhhhhh,” the brunette sighs in content, “Stage One Juggshock. Just a taste, sweetie.”
Pulling the British beauty up to rubbery legs, Avery sends an open hand chop to Honey’s chest which rocks the blonde back onto her heels. Grabbing her wrist, Christian sends the blonde racing toward the ropes with an Irish whip. But it would seem that Avery’s chop has roused the international import out of her jugg-induced stupor, for rather than charging into the cables, Harris dives into a handstand. Honey rocks backward, until the back of her legs hits the top rope, the elasticity of the rubber coated steel propelling the Brit into a flip that puts Harris back on her feet—but only for an instant. In the blink of an eye, Honey is airborne again, executing a backflip to deliver an acrobatic Pele kick to the crown of Avery’s skull!
HANDSPRING PELE KICK:
Honey scrambles to her feet, regaining verticality while Avery can only reclaim a seated position on the canvas. Harris charges forward, and BLISTERS the bosom that had just traumatized her with a wicked Penalty Kick that sends the so-called Future of FAWN collapsing to her back. The blonde Brit drops to her knees, folding Christian in half with a matchbook pin that scores the…
PENALTY KICK:
ONE…
NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Avery bucks loose.
Christian’s kickout actually does Honey a solid, the momentum generated sending Honey up to her feet as Avery herself rushes to join her foe. But, like a certain other blonde Briton of FAWN lore, give Harris a head start, and she will make you pay. Sprinting toward the rising brunette, Honey leaps into the air, grabbing two handfuls of raven tresses as she sails past the alleged Future of FAWN. As gravity asserts its will over her, the international import turns her back to the canvas. But, more importantly, Honey draws her knees up, toward her chest—and toward Avery’s jaw.
HONEY TRAP:
The collision of Christian’s chin with Harris’ knees rockets the brunette back to her feet, but she doesn’t stay there long. Toppling to the mat, either her momentum, instinct, or a combination thereof directs the young brunette to roll toward the bottom rope, sending her spilling out to the relative safety of the concrete floor. Kipping to her feet, Honey slips out onto the apron and scales her way all the way to the top turnbuckle, the blonde’s back to a slowly rising Avery. And just as Bethany’s daughter fully straightens up and turns back toward the ring, Harris vaults toward the skies, launching a diving corkscrew moonsault that sends both women crashing to the floor.
DIVING CORKSCREW MOONSAULT:
For a few seconds, both women are laid out, motionless save for the heaving of their respective chests. But then, Honey manages to roll over to one hip, before willing her way up to a seat. “You seem to be labouring under the impression,” the British blonde mutters, “that I’m new to this business.” Pushing to her feet, Harris scrapes Christian off the deck and shoves her up onto the apron. “When I wrestled my first match, dear, your mum was probably still having to clean up after you when you wet the bed…”
A push from the blonde sends Avery tumbling just passed the bottom rope. Climbing up onto the apron, Honey slips her upper body in between the middle and top rope, then turns to face the cables. While taking something of a seat on the middle rope, Harris reaches down, pulling Christian up to her knees before lacing an arm around her neck. “WANNA SEE THIS WITCH EAT A FACEFUL OF CANVAS?” the British blonde asks tonight’s capacity crowd.
The roar of the FAWNatics in response proves deafening.
“OBSERVE!” Honey calls out, wriggling her way into the ring, until the soles of her boots are pressed against the rubber coated steel. With a thrust of those shapely gams, Harris launches herself into the ring, swinging her body away from the cables before SLAMMING Avery’s mug into the mat with a unique variant on the bulldog. Christian flops over to her back, spread-eagled, and Honey wastes no time in covering and hooking a leg…
MIDDLE ROPE POSITIONED SPRINGBOARD BULLDOG:
ONE…
TWO…
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Avery kicks out.
“Fair enough,” Honey sighs as she picks herself up. “Think that face could use a little more rearranging, anyway.” Pulling Avery up to her feet, the blonde starts to whip her opponent toward the far corner…
STARTS to.
Christian reverses the whip, propelling the British beauty toward the buckles. But there’s one thing that has become apparently, watching both Honey Harris’ audition match and her match tonight: the youngster is both extremely comfortable and extremely resourceful on the move. Leaving her feet, Harris jumps onto the middle buckle, then spring back toward the charging Avery. Honey’s backside finds a welcome landing pad, in the form of Christian’s abundant bosom. The Brit’s legs swing behind the buxom brunette, straddling Avery’s midsection as Honey’s upper body drops toward the mat. Harris brings her hands down in front of her, first halting her descent and then thrusting her back into the air. Now with a little more control of her own momentum, Harris SWINGS downward a second time, this time sending her body between Avery’s parted stems—and catching Christian around the back of the knees as she does so. As Honey swoops through, Avery is sent lunging both forward and down, her face SMASHING into the middle turnbuckle.
HONEYCOMB FACEBUSTER:
For a moment, Bethany’s baby girl is left nuzzling leather, on her knees, arms spilling across the middle rope. But she then manages to roll over, Avery sagging into the corner as she sinks to a seat. Honey, on the other hand, is heading in the opposite direction—not only popping to her feet, but racing toward the opposite corner. Giving the top turnbuckle a swat, the British blonde reverses course, sprinting toward Christian and leaping into the saddle, the brunette’s sternum becoming well acquainted with Honey’s backside as she busts this bronco…
… and Avery’s face gets far more intimately acquainted with Honey’s nether regions than she would have ever hoped.
Dismounting her well-ridden filly after a baker’s dozen thrusts, Harris tugs the brunette back to boot leather. Snatching a wrist, the blonde Brit launches Avery toward the opposite corner with an Irish whip, Christian uttering a loud groan when her back hits the buckles. For the moment at least, the Future of FAWN looks considerably dimmed, her arms flopping limp over the top rope as her head slumps toward her own cleavage, Avery’s butt sinking ever so slightly toward the mat. Pleased with her handiwork, Avery initiates a tumbling run toward her fading adversary…
… only to find that the curvaceous brunette just may have been playing possum.
As she prepares her final flight toward Christian, cocking an elbow to MASH it into Avery’s bounty, she turns her back toward her foe. She therefore never sees Avery’s gams straighten, or the brunette takes a purposeful stride away from the buckles. Harris might not have seen anything, but what she DOES feel is Christian’s arms wrap around her waist from behind, the youngster first catching Honey in her grasp, and then SQUEEEEEEEEZING on her reverse bearhug.
Her feet still elevated off the mat thanks to her own jump, Honey’s legs kick out in front of her, the British blonde groaning and gasping as her hands reach to pry at Avery’s wrists. Fortunately for Harris, the Japanese-born American brunette doesn’t intend to keep her ensnared in this bearhug for very long. However, every silver lining has its cloud, and Christian relinquishes her embrace by dropping to one knee—and SLAMMING Honey down butt first across her posted thigh. The atomic drop vaults Harris to her tippy toes, the new arrival in FAWN staggering forward before managing a drunken turn back toward Avery…
Oddly enough, Christian has her own turn in mind, wheeling toward Honey and damn near DECAPITATING the British beauty with a BRUTAL discus forearm smash. Harris crashes to the mat, starfished, eyes blinking as she tries to collect herself.
DISCUS FOREARM SMASH:
Despite the cartoon birdies circling her head that only Honey could see, Avery doesn’t elect to go for a cover. Instead, she nudges a boot under the blonde’s ribs and flips the British import over to her stomach. Placing a boot between Harris’ thighs, Bethany’s baby girl stuffs her opponent’s right boot against the pit of her left knee, before folding Honey’s left leg up, Christian using her shin to lock her foe’s gams in place. Leaning forward, the curvy brunette gathers and pulls up on Honey’s wrists, Avery ominously letting her boot hover over the blonde’s bowed noggin. “THIS, Honey, is how you rearrange a face,” Christian hisses toward her adversary, before directing her next remark to the FAWNatics.
“OBSERVE!”
With that, Avery DRIVES Harris down to the mat, face first, with a brutal stomp…
DEATHLOCK CURBSTOMP:
… but AVERY ISN’T DONE! She scoops up Honey’s wrists a second time, pulling the Briton’s upper body off the mat only to curbstomp the blonde’s mug into the canvas a second time. It’s a process the buxom brunette repeats on a further three occasion, the last one finally causing Harris’ legs to slip loose, the blonde’s body left quaking as Avery steps away. Shoveling Honey over, Christian takes a seat atop Honey’s tummy. Once more, Bethany’s baby girl takes possession of the Brit’s wrists—this time lifting Honey’s limp arms over her head and pinning them to the mat for the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Harris gets her left shoulder up.
Undeterred, Avery presses both arms back down, scoring the…
ONE...
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Honey manages to life her RIGHT shoulder…
Releasing the British blonde’s right wrist, Avery climbs to her feet, Christian using both her grip on Honey’s left wrist and a handful of hair to pull Honey up as well. With both women vertical once more, the Japanese born American brunette relinquishes her grip on Harris’ mane—but not her wrist. Pushing that wing behind Honey’s back, Avery dips her hips and slips her other hand behind her foe’s right thigh. Scooping the reeling blonde off her feet, Christian passes Harris’ captive wrist from her left hand to her right, Bethany trapping Honey’s limb in a hammerlock. But Avery’s left hand navigates underneath the British beauty’s arm until her fingers can coil around her own opposing wrist, the self-proclaimed Future of FAWN compounding the suffering of her hammerlock with a rib-crushing bearhug.
HAMMERLOCK BEARHUG:
“AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Honey moans, her shapely legs desperately seeking out Avery’s hips in the form of a loose scissors, hoping however much in vain to mitigate some of the pressure Bethany’s baby girl was pouring into her diaphragm. Meanwhile, Christian smirks as she alternates between constricting her pythons and cranking down on Honey’s imprisoned wing, one particularly savage SQUEEEEEZE causing the anguished blonde to wail, “GYYYYAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! MUUUUTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEERRRRRRFFFFFUUUUUUUDDDDDDGGGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!”
“What do you say, Honey?” the referee asks.
Harris manages to whimper out a breathless “Noooooooooo,” weakly shaking both her head and the index finger of her one free hand, her right arm slung over Avery’s shoulder. Before long, it’s not just Honey’s pointer finger that’s moving—each digit flexes and coils, no straining to reach the mercy of the top rope, never mind those cables being several feet beyond her reach.
But there DOES prove to be something that Honey’s straining limb can touch and pluck: the heartstrings of the FAWNatics. It starts softly, the chant of “HUN-EY! HUN-EY!” carried only by a handful of voices. But with each chorus, more fans join in, raising not only the volume but the force of the invocation. Within moments, Harris’ fingers no longer strain for the ropes or implore the crowd. Instead, they ball into a fist, Honey cocking her elbow and SMASHING it into the side of Avery’s skull.
She does so a second time, and then a third, to little apparent effect. But the fourth connection wobbles Christian’s stems, and loosens her embrace. A fifth pops the brunette’s fingers loose from around her wrist, Avery’s arms falling to her sides and freeing the blonde. The FAWNatics erupt as Honey pivots, gasping for breath, but nevertheless ignoring her enflamed lungs to race toward the ropes…
Harris fails to notice Bethany’s baby girl take off after her in hot pursuit. And no sooner does Honey’s back hit the ropes, Avery meets her there with a WICKED running forearm that catches the Brit under the jaw, snapping Honey’s head backward and sending a shimmy down her legs. If not for her arms falling over the top rope, Harris might not have remained upright…
…. which would have meant that, perhaps, Honey would have escaped Avery bouncing off the opposite ropes and connecting with a MASSIVE Yakuza kick. Honey DOESN’T escape that, however, and the young blonde is sent stumbling toward the center of the ring, Harris’ legs stubbornly refusing to surrender to Avery’s assault and the siren song of gravity. Snatching a handful of hair, Christian roughly turns Honey toward her and SHOVES the Brit’s head under her arm. Grabbing a handful of wristband, Christian pops her hips and propels Harris toward the skies for a vertical suplex, albeit one that doesn’t connect for a full five seconds—which are spent with Avery holding her cargo suspended, upside down.
STALLING VERTICAL SUPLEX:
Leisurely draping herself across Honey’s chest, Bethany’s baby girl doesn’t even bother to hook a leg as the referee slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honey gets a shoulder up.
“You don’t belong here,” Avery mutters, climbing to her feet and pulling Harris up via a handful of blonde tresses. “You might be good enough to sell out a few arenas in Europe, but now you’ve gotta be worldwide.” Christian casually shuffles around and behind the woozy import. “Hey, it’s the middle of the night there now, isn’t it?” the brunette asks, but she doesn’t wait for an answer.
Instead, she slips an arm around and across Honey’s throat, locking in a sleeperhold on the blonde beauty. “Go to sleep, bytch,” Christian hisses, her voice dripping like venom into Honey’s ear.
Almost immediately, the British starlet’s arms start to flail out in front of her, searching for the ropes. Harris struggles to reach the cables, but every time she gets close, Avery gives her noggin a sharp tug, turning and guiding the older woman back toward the middle of the ring. Feeling her foe beginning to fade, Christian jumps onto the blonde’s back, slipping her legs around Honey’s waist in a tight scissors.
Which might have been a mistake.
Honey’s hands drop to brunette’s thighs, holding them in place as she turns her back to the nearest set of buckles. Throwing her weight into full reverse, Harris stumbles into the corner, using her weight to crush a low moan out of Bethany’s baby girl. Feeling the scissors slacken around her waist, the British blonde lumbers forward, intending to repeat this successful tactic…
… when her legs falter, sending Harris crashing to her knees.
A smirking Avery gets her feet back underneath her and leans forward, bearing all her weight down onto the Brit, putting an even greater strain on Honey’s blood and oxygen flow. It’s only a matter of moments before her arms cease thrashing, and instead merely spasm—and almost entirely at Avery’s direction, it would appear. “Honey?” the referee asks.
Silence.
He takes her right wrist in his hand, raising the Brit’s arm. It falls…
ONCE…
TWICE…
THREE TIMENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
With her hand level with her hips, Honey’s fingers ball into a fist, her arm stiffening and shaking in the air. That’s enough to get the FAWNatics chanting her name again, and the louder they get, the more forcefully the Brit pumps her fist. Harris soon works her way to one knee, twisting to the side as she forces her way off that knee. Cocking her elbow, Honey SLAMS the joint into Avery’s belly button, knocking a gasp out of the curvaceous brunette. It takes three more elbows to break the sleeper, and even with her senses dulled from oxygen starvation, Honey pivots and starts to sprint toward the ropes…
It is perhaps due to the lingering fog of the sleeper that Harris seems to forget what had happened the last time she had escaped her opponent’s clutches and looked to the ropes. Just as on that occasion, however, Christian rushes after her. While she doesn’t meet the blonde at the cables this time, the two reunited not too far from them when Avery IMPALES Honey’s belly with a running kneelift that sends the blonde flipping through the air and crashing to the mat. For a moment, the Brit curls into a fetal ball, retching and fighting just to draw a breath. But then, her body appears to lose tension, and she melts onto her back, Honey left a puddle of glistening flesh as a confident Christian turns to the ropes and slips out onto the apron.
As Avery starts her ascent toward the top turnbuckle, the crowd begins another chant of “HUN-EY! HUN-EY!”, stomping and clapping in a further effort to re-invigorate the blonde. It’s enough to cause Bethany’s baby girl to halt her climb for a moment with one buckle to go. Raising her hands above her head, Christian begins to clap as well—although her applause has much more of a mocking cadence. So too does her voice when she adds hers to the chorus.
“HUN-EY!” the so-called Future of FAWN sneers. “HUN-EY!”
Christian’s efforts have the desired effect, ending the chant if not silencing the crowd. But instead of seeking to rouse their heroine, the FAWNatics pour thunderous jeers onto Avery as she reaches her perch, Honey still sprawled lifeless on the mat below her. Avery jumps from the turnbuckle with nothing fancier than a simple diving splash…
… BUT HONEY ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY!!!!!
Both women come to rest face down on the canvas, Avery mewling softly, Harris dead silent. With neither woman showing any signs of rising, the official has little choice but to begin a count…
“ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!”
Finally, one woman begins to rise. And, to the crowd’s consternation, it is Avery, the voluptuous brunette pushing her way up to all fours.
“FOUR!!!!”
Bethany’s baby girl starts to crawl toward Honey—who, to her credit, starts to work her way up to all fours. While neither woman might be making a move toward verticality, this is apparently enough to convince the referee to stop his count as the brunette reaches her blonde foe, Avery straightening to her knees and pulling Harris up with her. From their knees, they begin to throw hands, the FAWNatics cheering with each blonde Honey lands, and jeering each connection from the self-proclaimed Future of FAWN.
Disappointingly, but not exactly surprisingly, trading hands with Avery Christian does not prove a winning proposition for the British import. It’s not long before Bethany’s baby girl starts getting the better of the exchange, one particularly nasty shot rocking a cross-eyed Harris back on her haunches and providing Avery with enough time to climb to her feet. Hairhauling Honey up as well, she launches a kick toward Harris’ abdomen…
… which is caught! Tossing that gam to the side, Honey drops to the mat, reaching an arm between the thighs of the spinning Christian and pulling the brunette down the canvas as well. Having rolled Avery up onto her shoulders, Harris scrambles back to her feet, stepping around one of the powerful Japanese-born American’s stems…
… and before Avery even knew it, Honey Harris has slapped on a figure four leglock!
SCHOOLBOY FIGURE FOUR:
Suddenly, Avery is rendered a wailing, anguished mess, her hands ripping at her own hair as Harris gives her ankle a twist. And the FAWNatics are brought to their feet, chanting, ‘TAP! TAP! TAP!”
“How about it, Avery?” the ref asks. “Do you wanna give?”
“NOOOOOAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Christian howls, but then falls to her back. And with her shoulders flat against the canvas, the referee slaps off the…
ONE…
TWO…
Bethany’s baby girl vaults up onto her elbows. And from there, the curvy brunette starts rocking side to side. Honey is an experienced enough wrestler to recognize that her opponent is trying to generate enough momentum to roll over and reverse the pressure on the leglock…
… but she proves unable to stop her, both women slowly turning until they are on their stomachs. Now it’s Harris who screams in agony, her fingers plunging into her blonde locks as she buries her face in the canvas. “What do you say, Honey?” the official asks.
Honey doesn’t waste any energy answering. Instead, she invests everything she has into doing unto Avery what Avery had done to her. And, gradually, the blonde manages to roll them over—until, once again, both women are on their backs.
And Avery is crying in torment.
Planting her palms against the mat, Honey pushes her taut tush into the air, ramping up the pressure on the torturous hold. “GIVE IT UP, DARN YOU!!!” she shouts.
Unfortunately, their combined tumbles have maneuvered the blonde and brunette close enough to the ropes that Avery can grab the bottom cable with both hands, prompting the referee to call for a break.
Honey relinquishes the figure four and scoots away, while Avery starts to pull herself up along the ropes. Harris scrambles to her feet, determined to beat the Japanese-born American beauty upright—and she does manage it, just. Charging toward Christian, the blonde grabs Avery by the shoulders, spinning her away from the ropes and toward the nearest corner. Now wrapping her arms around the youngster’s waist, Honey charges toward the corner, driving Avery in until her chest hits the top turnbuckle. Rocking backward, the British import pulls Christian down for an O’Connor roll—only instead of settling into a perch sitting against the back of the brunette’s thighs, Harris rolls through to her feet pulling Avery up as well. The blonde’s arms then move from around her opponent’s midsection to under her arms, Honey locking in a full nelson before rocking back in an explosive bridge, DRIVING Avery’s head and shoulders into the canvas with a dragon suplex! Honey holds the bridge, Christian’s backside raised to the rafters as the referee slides into position…
O’CONNOR ROLL DRAGON SUPLEX:
ONE…
TWO…
THRNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Avery bucks loose.
Gaining her third wind, Honey pops to her feet and sprints toward the ropes, behind a rising Christian. As the curvaceous youngster starts to straighten up, her blonde-haired foe races past her, diving into a handstand and rocking back into the rubber coated steel. When the cables propel Harris back toward her, Avery—perhaps remembering the Pele kick from earlier in the contest—starts to duck down, probably on little more than reflex. But instead of launching a similar acrobatic kick, Honey jumps onto the brunette’s shoulders, straddling Avery’s head—effectively placing herself in the electric chair. But she doesn’t stay there long. Harris throws her weight into full reverse, with all the might that she can muster, ripping Avery off her feet and SPIKING the brunette’s head with a handspring inverted rana.
HANDSPRING INVERTED RANA:
Avery bounces up from the impact, landing on her knees and slumping backward, somehow remaining at least semi-upright, but swaying to and fro, seemingly one stiff breeze away from ending up on her back. Honey, meanwhile, navigates her way to the far corner, sinking into a tense crouch as she watches Christian, waiting her the brunette to make a move upward. When Bethany’s baby girl finally does start to push up off her knees, the blonde Brit darts toward her. Catching the brunette around the noggin and stuffing Avery’s head under her arm, Harris leaps over her foe’s shoulder—and for the second time in less than a minute, Christian finds herself violent uprooted and her cranium DRILLED into the mat, this time via Honey’s Reading Destroyer. Keeping possession of the youngster’s head, Honey’s other arm secures one of Avery’s gams while her legs scissor the other, cradling Bethany’s baby girl through the…
READING DESTROYER:
ONE…
TWO…
THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
Christian kicks out.
“What is that skull made of?” Honey sighs, picking herself up and pulling Avery up as well. “Titanium?” Setting her feet, the Brit attempts an Irish whip, but to both Honey’s and the FAWNatics’ surprise, Bethany’s baby girl still has enough wherewithal to reverse it. The tenacity is admirable, but the resulting raised arm for a clothesline proves sloppy and telegraphed, allowing Harris to duck underneath it and carry on into the opposite ropes. Avery stumbles around, raising her arm for another clothesline—which, again, Honey ducks underneath. This time, however, the British import hooks that arm and jumps up, stretching her body across Avery’s back. Sweeping over Christian’s right shoulder, Harris eventually ends up with her legs underneath the brunette’s arms, Honey looking down at the mat as her upper body starts to drop. Her hands break her fall, pushing the blonde back heavenward, Honey ready to grab Avery’s head and subject Bethany’s baby girl to a little more serious head trauma…
TILT-A-WHIRL WHEELBARROW TORNADO DDT:
…only Avery’s hand catches Harris around the back of her head, halting the blonde’s ascent. More importantly, and more ominously, Christian’s hand then pushes down, folding Honey toward her belly, the Brit’s face now positioned between the curvaceous brunette’s slightly parted thighs. And before either Honey or the crowd can fully process what is about to happen, Avery drops back, falling to her ass and DRIVING her opponent’s face into the canvas with a modified version of her Christian Cruncher finisher out of nowhere!
CHRISTIAN CRUNCHER, modified version of @1:06:
And in the blink of an eye, Honey Harris is left obliterated, laid out on her back, twitching and shuddering but otherwise seemingly rendered unconscious. But while instinct had produced an amazing counter from the inexperienced grappler, the cumulative effects of the British blonde’s attacks still leave Christian’s senses muddled, her thoughts engulfed in a fog as she lays on her back in a similarly starfished fashion. But after a moment, as the fog begins to clear, one thought starts coming into focus in Avery’s mind…
PIN THE BYTCH…
Willing herself over, Christian crawls toward Honey’s remains, dropping across the blonde’s chest and scoring the…
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HONEY GETS A SHOULDER UP!!!
Avery sits up, wide-eyed… but shock transitions to offense, the brunette disgusted as she turns and shovels Harris over to her belly. Settling into a straddle of the Brit’s back, Bethany’s baby girl leans forward, gobbling up Honey’s wrists. Crossing her opponent’s arms, Christian YANKS back, applying the straightjacket—but one with a twist. In a normal straightjacket, the victim finds their arms drawn across their own throat, but in this case Honey finds her lips and nostrils uncomfortably close to the crook of her elbows. What this near smother lacks in creating a thoroughly airtight seal, the torturous hold makes up for with excruciating pain—especially as Avery LEEEEEEEAAAANS back as far as she can, forcing the Brit’s spine to bend at a thoroughly unnatural angle.
“You wanna give, Honey?” the referee asks.
Whatever the blonde might have tried to say, her arms render the sound utterly unintelligible. Worse still for Honey, even if she wanted to, her hands—restrained as they are in Avery’s grasp—can find nothing to tap. Christian continues this torture a few seconds longer before letting go of the British beauty’s arms… and deprived of that resistance, Honey’s upper body whips downward, her face and chest slamming to the mat.
Her chest straining with each deep breath, Avery rises up, standing in a straddle over the mewling blonde’s back. “THIS BYTCH IS FINISHED!” Bethany’s baby girl shouts, before peeling the sweat-drenched blonde off the canvas. Slipping her arms around Harris’ waist, Christian scoops the Brit up, swinging her upside down. “No way you kick out of this again…”
Avery is almost certainly correct. Kicking out of a second Christian Cruncher was inconceivable, so it’s a good thing for Honey that Bethany’s baby girl doesn’t manage to deliver it. Instead, the foreign import’s legs begin to kick, Harris writhing in her opponent’s grasp strong enough that the brunette finds herself beginning to tumble backward. Christian’s crash to the mat is prevented when Honey manages to land on her feet, the blonde rising and now holding AVERY upside down against her torso. With the crowd roaring at this turnaround, Harris falls to her knees, connecting with her own tombstone piledriver! Christian spills to the mat, Honey tumbling down on top of her, laying across her torso with the Brit’s cheek resting against her opponent’s navel…
It was as good a cover as any, as far as the referee is concerned.
ONE…
TWO…
THREENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Avery gets a shoulder up.
Honey topples off her opponent’s prone form, and struggles up to her knees. Rolling the curvaceous Christian over to her belly, the Brit mutters, “If you’re not gonna stay down…” Harris settles her knees against Avery’s spine, one hand reaching her the brunette’s jaw while her other moves to her ankles. There’s not a FAWNatic in the audience that doesn’t immediately recognize the homage to one of Honey’s idols, and as the blonde rocks to her back, the only question that remains is whether Harris is as able to wring a submission out of this particular hold as her heroine.
Strapped to Harris’ knees, Avery is raised up onto… well, Honey’s Bridge doesn’t have quite the same ring. But the effect is eerily similar, Christian’s arms thrashing and failing as the British blonde flexes her legs. “You wanna quit, Avery?” the official asks. “Say the word, and I’ll ring the bell.”
“SHUT THE F*CK UUUUUUGGGGGGGUUUUUAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the young brunette screams, defiance turned to lamentation when Honey gives her foe’s chin and crossed ankles sharp tugs.
“I’VE GOT YOU, AVERY!” Harris insists. “DAGNABBIT, GIVE… IT… UP!!!!!!”
Christian refuses to surrender, however, and soon the strain in her own arms and legs convinces Honey to shift gears. Releasing the bow and arrow, Harris scrambles up, guiding Avery to her feet as well. With the Japanese-born American brunette still slumped forward, her opponent places a palm between her shoulderblades and leaps over Christian. Collecting Avery’s noggin under her arm, the Brit kicks her legs upward and falls to the canvas, connecting with a brutal floatover DDT.
FLOATOVER DDT:
Rocking onto her shoulders, Honey kips up—drawing a wave of resounding cheers from the FAWNatics as she moves toward the corner facing Christian’s back. As Avery starts to struggle toward her hands and knees, Harris turns away from the buckles and climbs up to the second rope. Poised, the blonde Briton urges Avery to rise with a wave of her hands, Bethany’s baby girl slowly making it to trembling legs, but facing the wrong direction. Drunkenly, the curvy brunette swivels around…
… and Honey leaps from her abbreviated perch, catching Avery’s shoulders with her knees, DRIVING the brunette to the mat with her Honey to the B.
HONEY TO THE B:
Harris rolls through the landing as Avery spasms to a halt, her momentum carrying her underneath the bottom rope and out onto the apron. In an instant, the Brit is not only vertical but climbing, making her way to the top turnbuckle with a level of grace that belies the battle she has endured. From there, Honey takes flight, drawing her knees toward her chest and slipping her hands behind her knees. The blonde’s body rotates a full 630 degrees, until her back ‘THWAP’s down across Christian’s belly, the force of her connection momentarily leading Honey back to her feet. She pivots in an instant, however, throwing herself across Avery’s chest. Gathering not one but BOTH legs, Harris hooks them tightly, raising Bethany’s baby girl’s backside toward the rafters as the official slaps off the…
READING RAINBOW:
ONE…
TWO…
THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DING! DING! DING!
As the British import tosses Avery’s legs aside, the announcer makes it official. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he declares, “your winner, via pinfall… HOOONNNEEEYYY HAAARRRRRRIIISSS!!!!!”
Adrenaline giving way to exhaustion, Harris accepts the referee’s assistance in regaining her footing. And as he raises her left arm in triumph, Honey taps her right fist to her chest two times, right above her heart, before blowing a kiss to the cheering FAWNatics. She then turns…
… to find Avery, sitting up, breathing heavily as she tries to make sense of what has happened. The British blonde takes a step toward her…
… and, just as she had done at the start of the match, Honey extends her hand.
“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Harris says. “You gave me everything I could handle tonight. I must confess, I’m not looking forward to having to try to beat you a second time anytime soon…”
Avery’s gaze drifts from her victorious opponent’s hand up to Honey’s eyes, and then back to that proffered hand. A bit of a hush falls over the FAWN Arena as the crowd waits to see what the young brunette’s response will be.
After nearly a full ten seconds, Avery falls to her back, rolling under the bottom rope and dropping to the floor, spurning Honey’s show of sportswomanship. The FAWNatics unload with both barrels, booing and jeering as Bethany’s baby girl retreats up the ramp, her eyes still locked on the woman who had given her a hard fought ‘L.’ “DAMN RIGHT YOU DON’T WANT ME AGAIN,” the curvy brunette shouts toward Harris, “BECAUSE YOU KNOW I HAD YOU TONIGHT.
In the ring, Honey gives her head an unenthusiastic nod, mouthing three words to the backpedaling beauty: “Sure you did.”
Sneering, Avery shares one last vow before turning to depart. “AND TRUST ME, NEXT TIME, I’M GONNA OWN YOUR ASS!”