March Madness PPV

Tale of the Tape (Cougar Title):

Tina Louise (10-3-0, 10 KO)

5'7, 42 years old, 34D

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

Cougar Title Holder

vs.

Jessica Chastain (19-9-0, 19 KO)

5'4, 47 years old

The Dollhouse

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

"AND NOW! Making her 14th appearance in the ring. Please welcome the Victoria, Australia native, standing 5 foot 7, weighing in at 120 pounds, THE CURRENT COUGAR TITLE HOLDER, TINAAAA LOUISSSSEEEEE!!”

Tina was salaciously clad in a pale-white, sheer bikini that clung to her heavy D-cups as if it were painted on her skin. The thin-banded bandeau top did little to contain her massive, overflowing chest; her heaving orbs swelling as though they were fastened with a belt rather than a bikini top given the ample cleavage and underboob. The Aussie’s bronzed, tatted skin glimmered with a light sheen of perspiration; her pixie-cut locks already soaked through and matted with sweat. Heavy, thick eye-liner coated her long lashes; the smoke from her mascara mixing with the flush of her rosy cheeks as she waved to throngs of fans. The biting floss of her string thong bottoms was lost to folds of flesh as it trailed between her plump ass cheeks, grinning ear-to-ear with a toothy smile as she slid lewdly into the ring.

The challenger, Jessica Chastain, was much more modestly dressed; though one wouldn’t expect her to challenge Louise in bawdiness. Clad in a teal sports bra and cheeky, boy-cut spandex bottoms, Chastain reveled in her opportunity to snatch the Cougar Title and secure her first ever belt. Quite a results-pretzel had been woven at the top of the Cougar ranks since the Cougar Tournament in June of 2023. Jessica’s stablemate, Katheryn Winnick, had likely passed along all the trade secrets after facing Louise in the semifinals; though Winnick hadn’t managed to secure the belt for herself. Winnick had fallen to McCarthy, Chastain had beaten McCarthy, Louise and Chastain had beaten Kardashian, Winnick had beaten Louise and Chastain; it was an indecipherable mess. Considering the relative greenness of the Aussie, it felt as though this bout was a coin-flip.

Round 1:

To Louise’s credit, the Champ had said all the right things in the lead-up; detailing her adoration for Chastain as a fighter and even more so, an actress. With a cordial glove tap, the belt was back on the line and things got underway.

Chastain was uber aggressive and confident early; ducking into the bigger Aussie and eating up her time and space to operate. A THUMPING hook to flatten Tina’s rack, tap-tap-jab to the lips, a chunking hip shot; Louise was systematically broken down and buckled before kicking into a light retreat just a minute in. Tina swelled back with an electrifying overhand that just slid over a rolling shoulder; freezing the redhead before scooping an underhand that sounded off Jessica’s flexing midsection with a fleshy CLAP. Chastain crunched her abdomen to eat the tester before athletically swiveling through a retort; PUMPING a gag-inducing right into Louise’s pierced navel, then rattling her teeth with a silky uppercut to the chin. Louise fluttered and backed off, skipping around the outskirts for the last thirty as she nodded along to instructions on the fly from her corner. Chastain doesn’t over-extend to chase, content to take the round and let Louise off her hook for now. 10-9 Chastain.

Round 2/3:

Perhaps Louise’s reverence for the actress opposing her had taken some of the sting off her gloves in the opener, but after a breather she was a completely different fighter. The defending Champion swarmed out of the gates in the second with venom dripping off her strikes; lashing a torrid flurry to break down and back Chastain into the ropes. Hook to the gut, right-left-right to the ribs, THUMPING left swept across her cheek. Chastain wobbled and flung her own two-piece reply, only to have her hands dismissively swatted away and another stiff drink poured down her throat. Straight left to the lips, FEROCIOUS side-winding right to the temple; Louise was bouncing around with aggravating amounts of energy, using her lank to create unique angles to throw that Chastain couldn’t reach herself.

By the third round, Chastain looked to be stuck in a bear-trap; wincing along the ropes as Tina chunked incrementally-weighty bombs off her failing heat-shield. A thundering overhand rocked Jess into the ropes; the rubber bowing and trampolining her back out for another pair of jabs to seep through her cracking guard. Left to her flushed cheek, RIGHT to her clavicles; Chastain’s thighs pinched inward as she sagged lower beneath Louise’s pressure. In the last thirty Tina hammered away like she was beating a drum; right-right-left to Chastain’s modest bust, scythe-combo to her navel, liver, ribs, CHIN. Chastain hunkered down and hid behind her forearms, limping to the break and falling well behind after a pair of 10-8 drubbings.

Round 4/5:

Louise eagerly skipped out for more of the same; Chastain looking worse for wear as Tina offered the first handful of uncontested barbs to start the fourth. A right snuck through to the Sacramento native’s forehead, a left cutting through her ribs; backing Chastain off and to the peripheral of the pursuant Aussie. Louise’s foot was through the pedal and on the floor, practically sprinting after the actress as they balletically danced across the ring. Chastain had a palm extended to keep Louise somewhat at bay, pawing at the platinum-blonde’s springy chest as she ducked and chased. Louise had finally seen enough of the stall tactic, swiping down on Chastain’s wrist and clearing the runway for a vaulting right overhand. Thump, thump, CRACK.

“Kuhh… Nggghh… GOOOHHHLL” Louise’s slender side suddenly caved in as Chastain pulled a bitter three-tap out of absolutely NOWHERE. Just as Tina swatted at Jessica’s extended arm, the crafty redhead tucked a virulent scoop-hook beneath the curve of Louise’s ribs, then a higher volley to pierce her bust, then a BUCKLING right to snap her jaw. Louise floundered to her heels, both arms pinwheeling as she careened toward the far corner. Her long, smoky lashes fluttered, throatily whimpering as she gracelessly backpedaled, Jessica scampering after her. Louise was LOST, drifting in a heady daze and giving Chastain her side; the redhead rotating to the Aussie’s back to hide her blade before slinging a WICKED cross through Tina’s flushed cheek. The Aussie’s frame stiffened, seizing as she tipped sideways, drooling her mouthpiece to the mat and crashing down after it flat on her chest.

1… 2… The Aussie’s frame bounced and skid to a stop on her chest, her heavy rack swelling and buoying her sternum with rapid, uneven pants for air. Still conscious, Louise sputtered and coughed as she unraveled to her side, her features twisted as she gracelessly flopped spread eagle on her backside.

3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… Louise laid mouth-agape on her back for what felt like an eternity; the frantic call of her corner finally piercing the white noise and spurring the Champion to scurry to her feet. Wobbling but able to posture without the aid of the ropes, Louise’s glassy bulbs met the official’s and convinced him she was good to go; the waning seconds of the fourth expiring as she was declared fit to continue. Chastain STUNS Louise with her first bit of offense in nearly three rounds, flooring her and getting right back in this contest.

The momentum shift would continue for Chastain in the fifth; running circles around a zombified Louise and making up for lost time with barrels of punches. Chastain takes back-to-back rounds 10-8, 10-9 to level this Championship contest at the midway point.

Round 6:

Louise looked like a dead woman walking; her bandeau top soaked-through and sheer with sweat, shoulder-length locks matted, clinging to life as she trudged out for the sixth. Chastain had seen better days as well, but her trajectory appeared to be inversely upwards. Jessica once again got the better end of the early trade; slicing through with a punctual heart-punch that stopped Louise in her tracks as she reared for a heavy overhand. Tina’s heart skipped a beat as Chastain winded through another pattering one-two to her tits; nearly springing them free as she pushed into Louise and rode her into the ropes. Cornered somewhat, Louise erupts; pounding diagonal uppercuts into the challenger’s chin. Jess answers with a FEROCIOUS left to the cheek, Louise spit-taking a bloody mouthful as a flurry opens up.

Hook to the ribs from Chastain, uppercut-cross to the jawline from Louise, straight right to the rack from the challenger, BRUTAL hook-hook to the navel from the Champion. Louise wiggled free as the last bifurcating scythe made Chastain wilt forward, sprawling over the ropes before rolling off. Jess was sucking wind, her hands hanging low as she tried to summon a scoop-hook from her waist and reach Louise’s jaw. Instead the Aussie found the whip somehow, vaulting into Chastain and collapsing with reckless pressure; rattling right to the forehead, left to the liver, rack, ribs, HOOK TO THE CHIN. Chastain’s features crinkled as her skull slung sideways, whimpering as the aftershock of Louise’s electric left hand crumpled her to her knees.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… The redhead buried her head against the canvas for a double-take; sprawling as she sucked wind and curled against the mat. Louise was too gassed to celebrate, non-verbally begging Chastain to stay down as Jessica boldly began to rise. 

Up before six, Chastain put on a brave face and strode into Louise; swinging wildly with a left, then a right, then another handful. Tina slid to her heels, stalling out the redhead’s limited reach with space. Chastain was stretched thin, on her toes as she whiffed three straight; then THWACK. Louise sprung forward and STAMPED a left against Chastain’s lips, buckling the challenger. Jessica wobbled to her side, lawn-chaired by a merciless liver shot, then two more to the gut. Uppercut to the underside of her rack, hook-hook tearing through her ribs, left to the cheek; Chastain lost her wits as she careened into Louise’s bust and pulled a dumbfounded clinch. Jessica’s pupils darted as she lost track of where she was, hugging Louise around the waist and spilling clumsily to her knees. The referee jumps in and Chastain is DONE! SHE CAN’T STAND.

"And your winner, by TKO in Round 6, AND STILLLLLL THE COUGAR TITLE HOLDER, TINA LOUUUUUIIISSSEEEE!!!!"

Post Fight:

For as brutal a contest as it had been, there was still an immense amount of respect from Louise to Chastain; the pixie-haired Aussie dropping to her knees to ensure Jessica was okay before rising to take her reclaimed Title belt. Louise beamed a toothy, pearly-white smile as she forgot all about the secondary pin stipulation; reveling in her first Title defense as Chastain slowly rose and sidled behind her. Louise spun to a tap on the shoulder, caught off-guard as Chastain grabbed the steel belt with both hands and SNAPPED it across Tina’s jaw. The platinum-blonde gurgled as her neck was twisted 180-degrees, her arms going limp, her chest shimmying with a violent convulsion before she withered to the canvas and splayed spread-eagle against the ropes.

Louise gurgled as Chastain straddled her waist with a hint of regret, or at least guilt; finally bending to scoop Tina up by the hips and drag her lifeless frame center ring. Louise’s ass skid as she floundered in Jessica’s exhausted grip; arms trailing above her head, the crotch of her string thong biting into her plump lips, gracelessly skidding before Chastain allowed her to sulk back to the mat. Moving to Louise’s side, the redhead hovered her heel over Tina’s rapidly swelling bust; finally planting a triumphant flag. Louise eeked out a throaty whimper as Chastain pressed down and pancaked her heavy rack; her tits bearing the redhead’s full weight as her sternum concaved under the pressure. Louise shook with convulsions as she was sprawled beneath the actress’ heel, a humiliating 3-count serving as a decent enough consolation prize for the Cougar Title challenger.

Tale of the Tape (JMD):

Sara Jean Underwood (5-19-0, 5 KO)

5'3, 40 years old, 32C

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Jordan Carver (3-19-0, 3 KO)

5'6, 37 years old, 30K

Black Eagle Boxing

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

"Welcome to this fabulous JMD contest… “

"AND NOW! Making her 25th appearance in the ring, the former Playmate of the Year. Please welcome the Portland, Oregon native, standing 5 foot 3, weighing in at 110 pounds, SARA JEANNNN UNNNNDERWOOD!!"

The former Playmate’s petite, yet shapely frame was tightly twined in a sheer, mesh bikini that bit into her bronzed skin; her playful, shoulder-length locks twirling and bouncing with every stride down the ramp. Underwood shamelessly overflowed out the top and bottom of the thin-banded bandeau top fastened around her heaving C-cups; her curvy hips and plump cheeks devouring the string thong bottoms that flossed between her thighs.

Carver dawned equally skimpy and provocative ring attire; a matte black, tiny triangular string top and matching thong bottoms. The brunette’s long hair trailed freely down her back, splitting her shoulder-blades as she leaned against the post in her corner. Jordan tucked her overflowing K-cups back behind the thin fabric, all-business and sick of losing to the CWF.

Round 1/2:

Underwood was one of the few overly-ambitious reclamation projects that had not yet gone according to plan for the CWF. One of only two fighters with a losing record since joining the Stable, Sara looked to celebrate her 40th birthday by inching closer to 0.500. The first round was a good start; as she controlled the pace and the reins of Carver, an equally inept fighter at the moment. Head, body, head, rack; Underwood varied her looks and kept Carver guessing. Unfortunately, after a 10-9 opener, Underwood’s composure went out the window.

Carver had three inches and plenty of busty padding on the blonde; and with cordiality out of the way, the German started to bully and uproot the Oregon native. As to be expected in a lower-level bout, Carver finally introduced some cattiness into the fold; pounding Underwood in the chest with a driving hook to crack her shell before pawing at her belted tube top and using it to slingshot her across the ring. Sara squealed as she spilled out of the frayed bandeau top; wearing the torn material around the waist as Carver chased and shouldered her into the far corner.

Sara was roughly jostled against the post, sprawling over the top rope with an impromptu armbra before Carver opened up; gouging chunks of flesh out of Underwood’s midsection with clunky, yet brutal overhands. A loaded right crushed Underwood’s clavicles, concaving her upper half before two pendulous hooks scooped out her gut. A left to the ribs buckled her side, then a right-right shook her bare chest; whimpering before a stiff left was poured down her throat. The blonde gurgled as her neck snapped straight back, her thonged cheeks split by the post as she slid lower and lower into a crouch. Hook, jab, hook, overhand; Underwood twisted and quaked as her hip, waist, rack, and chin were punctured by the flurrying brunette. Carver had to be pulled off by the official as she kept pounding through the bell; narrowly missing a knockout as a shell-shocked Underwood limped back to her corner. Carver leads thanks to a strong 10-8 second.

Round 3:

After the shock of her wardrobe failure wore off somewhat, Underwood looked increasingly attentive in her corner; soaking up instruction from McElhone as she was at least given a pair of black ‘X’ pasties to cover up.

Striding out to meet the prowling brunette, Underwood quickly slipped below a volcanic overhand from the German and sliced two clean hooks through her belly. Carver hoarsely grunt, skidding sideways; crinkling her nose before crow-hopping through another reckless toss. A brisk TAP-TAP darted through before Jordan could unload; stamping her nose and lips and pushing her to her heels. Carver was suddenly wide-eyed as the blonde found her punching form; pistoning torpedos up and down her buxom upper half. Jordan’s rack bounced as a pair of lefts flattened her enormous K-cups, her head snapping back as a right crushed her chin. Liver, ribs, tits, navel, sternum; Underwood meticulously dissected the floundering brunette until she leaned back and SWEPT a sidewinder-right across her jaw. Carver’s glass-chin shattered as Underwood stamped the vicious right; depositing the mystified brunette flat on her backside.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… Carver unraveled with her hands strewn high above her head; sputtering with violent coughs as her heavy rack swelled with frantic pants. The winded brunette tried to lift her shoulders off the canvas one-by-one; teetering to her hip before her elbow gave out and she collapsed flat on her back.

7… 8… 9… 10!!

"And your winner, by KO in Round 3, SARA JEAAAAANNN UNDERRRRWOOOOOD!!!!"

Post Fight:

Underwood was suddenly filled with energy as she vaulted halfway over the ropes and into the arms of her corner; embraced by McElhone as she finally stopped a 3-fight skid. Having to remind Underwood of the JMD liberties at her disposal, Sara finally worked her way back through the ropes and into the ring. Circling the downed brunette like a shark rising from the depths, Sara took her time hawking Carver; stuck in a trance as she decided how best to punctuate a long-awaited victory.

Carver was still woozy as she lawn-chaired to a seated position; burying her face in her hands as she crunched forward at the waist. Suddenly the brunette hoarsely squealed as Underwood slid to her knees at Carver’s back and twisted her fingers up in her sweat-matted locks. With the flick of her wrists, Sara brutally SLAMMED the agonized German’s skull against the canvas; dazing her as she was sprawled right back out on her backside. Carver groggily mewled as Underwood slung a leg over her belly and mounted her midsection; toying with the crest of her string bikini before YANKING down on the tiny cups and exposing Jordan’s sloshing rack. Before the brunette could even comprehend what had happened, Sara bunched the material in her palm and stuffed it in Jordan’s mouth; muzzling the whimpering brunette with her own top.

Carver’s twisted features flushed red as Sara gleamed ear-to-ear and leaned forward; dangling her bare, tear-dropping rack over Jordan’s lips. With a quick shimmy of her shoulders, Sara dropped her C-cups and buried the squirming German; encasing Carver’s sweat-smeared face until she disappeared. Jordan bucked and kicked her lower half as Sara shimmied her deeper; hugging the back of her neck with both arms to ensure she was lost between mountains of flesh. Carver’s desperation quickly gave way to slowing spasms, twitching until she went unconscious in Underwood’s arms.

Underwood had already done all the heavy lifting in her post-match coronation; wasting no time in throwing herself over Carver for the cross-body pin. Carver’s bare chest shook and swelled with each sputtering breath; the ring and her frame quaking with each weighty thud of the official’s count. Underwood shouted in unison, finally erupting and pushing off the lifeless brunette as she claimed her 3-count.

Tale of the Tape:

Eiza González (24-28-0, 24 KO)

5'8, 34 years old

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Christina Hendricks (18-15-0, 16 KO)

5’8, 48 years old

Free Agent

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

"AND NOW! Making her 53rd appearance in the ring, fighting under the Celebrity Wrestling Federation flag. Please welcome the Sonora, Mexico native, standing 5 foot 8, weighing in at 120 pounds, EIZAAA GONZÁLEZZZZ!!”

González’s taut, sculpted frame was custom-contoured for the micro ring garb she’d been carefully poured into. Her dark, golden skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat as she seductively crouched through the ropes, shimmying the slightly offset bandeau top belted around her swelling bosom back into place before settling into her corner and sliding into her gloves. The brunette’s slender stems rippled with toned muscle as she dipped at the waist, touching her toes as her plump backside devoured the tiny, pale-white string thong flossed between her cheeks. She tossed her braided pony tail over her shoulder and beamed an infectious smile as she rose; her honey brown bulbs gleaming through heavy, smoky eye-shadow as she rapped her gloves together and readied for the bell.

Christina Hendricks confidently dipped into the ring just a moment after Eiza; her buxom, alabaster frame a mouthwatering contrast to the brunette’s. With quite a bit less skin on display but still completely busting out of her top, Hendricks adjusted her pillowy, overflowing tits in the completely unnecessary push-up corset practically painted around her waist. After making sure she was still tucked in, Hendricks retreated to her corner and took a deep, swelling breath before stepping out to call González forward.

Round 1/2:

Eiza had experienced a dramatic turnaround in her career since joining the CWF, but Hendricks was still an excellent test for the Mexico-native. Finding herself knocking on the door of the top-20 at Lightweight, González might’ve been experiencing some jitters in the opener; as she was completely enveloped and controlled by the heavier Hendricks. The slender brunette was in shackles for minutes at a time; weighted down by Hendricks’ desire to tie-up and bully to take her valuable legs.

After some reconditioning of her strategy, Eiza began to dust the older redhead in the second. González looked like a hummingbird as she darted and picked at a more stationary Hendricks; flaying chunks out of her midsection as she danced in tight for guerrilla-action. Hendricks heaved as a left detonated against her shell; shucking her defenses for a sidewinding onslaught of one, two, three, FOUR sweeping crosses to pelt her overflowing chest. Christina trudged forward for a tie-up, but grasped only air; whiffing as Eiza twirled to her peripheral and SPIKED a shoulder-high left off her jaw. Hendricks fumbled after her mouthpiece as it was ejected, dragging her heels as González nipped and tucked stumpy jabs and hooks into her plump side. Hendricks started to wear the battle scars of the piranha biting at her haunches in the last thirty; opting to sulk away from the taunting brunette and limp to the break. After dropping the opener 10-9, González shows her class; 10-8.

Round 3:

The third was still controlled by the fiery brunette, but the pace was much more to Hendricks’ liking. Slow, plodding, quicksand trades; González falling into the trap of slugging it out with the heavy-hitter. A meaty left from Christina pancaked González’s perky rack; her heart fluttering as she was hammered some three steps back. Stepping right back up to the plate, Eiza slid through and torched Hendricks with a cannon-ball right; stopping the redhead in her tracks. González narrowly steals the round 10-9, but McElhone is clearly on her in the corner to warn of the dangers of standing and trading slug-for-slug with someone of Hendricks’ caliber.

Round 4:

The clash of styles seemed to ebb and flow by the minute; but González slowly started to be shackled by Hendricks’ guile. González bleated as a wide-sweeping left rattled off the curve of her hip; her right leg deadening and seemingly being glued to the canvas. Another shrill squeak eeked out as Hendricks stamped a rippling one-two into her opposite hip and rib cage. Eiza teetered as both stems were swallowed by concrete, her speed neutered as Hendricks moved up her lithe frame. Her taut abdomen flexed as a left sliced through her gut, her rack deflating as a straight right punctured her bust, gutturally grunting as a gaudy overhand rattled off her clavicles. Eiza’s dark bulbs pooled as her mouth fell open to gulp down a breath, her hands weighed down around her belly button as Hendricks feigned low again; only to SWOOP straight up and rip a meteoric left through her lips. 

González squelched as her neck snapped straight back, a mist of blood staining the canvas as her knees buckled. Eiza’s taut abdomen concaved and scrunched as she gracelessly sprawled sideways; her hands hovering around her hips before Hendricks SWIVELED through a left hook that sliced cleanly through her cheek. González belly spasmed with sharp breaths as she was frozen on her heels, her chest gently shimmying before her thighs jellied and pinched inward; pooling in a tangle of limbs on the canvas.

1… 2… 3… Eiza’s sternum swelled with sharp, exaggerated pants; groaning as she slowly unraveled flat on her back, arms and legs spread-eagle to far corners. Her bronzed chest could be seen through the sheer, sweat-drenched bandeau top fastened around her torso; her rippling midsection spasming with each violent breath. Staring blankly up at the rafters, the ringing in her ears slowly started to subside; blinking until she could see straight before slowly beginning to arch to a seated position.

4… 5… 6… 7… McElhone offered encouragement to take her time, slowing the brunette’s ascent back to her feet to ensure she didn’t rush back into the fight. Hendricks callously stalked as Eiza heeded her corner’s advice, finally rising at 8 with just a handful of seconds left in the round. Hendricks tried to rush in for a finish, but Eiza ate the last helping against the ropes; ribs, temple, navel, shoulder, just hanging on by a thread before the bell sounded. Hendricks DOMINATES with a put down, 10-8.

Round 5/6:

Hendricks followed with even more commanding pressure in the fifth; rag-dolling the staggered brunette around the ring with a leash in hand. Christina came in waves; picking and plucking with sharp, bladed, directional jabs to back Eiza where she wanted, then BANG. Even if nothing completely clean managed to slip through González’s ever-shrinking guard, Hendricks’ power was still felt repeatedly. Hendricks storms into the lead with a strong 10-9 effort.

As the sixth started, Hendricks felt imminent. González’s movement had deteriorated, her defenses were crumbling, her stamina fading; the brunette seemed to drunkenly move at Hendricks’ will as she backpedaled across the ropes in the first thirty. A stiff left whizzed over her shoulder, then a right by her temple; Eiza rolling off the ropes to escape the hunt. Hendricks was starting to get flashy now; hunting for the bow to place on her victory as she pawed at González’s scantly-clad chest and tried to guide her into the corner. Eiza ducked another one-two roped over her ducking head; starting to weave and bob with rhythm and purpose as Hendricks became more reckless. Another overhand came unglued, flying well over González’s forehead before, THWACK.

Hendricks let out a throaty bellow as Eiza stuffed a bladed shiv through her ribs, then CLAPPED another hook off her plump belly. Christina lurched forward but was pirouette into the ropes herself; HOOK, jab, hook, one-two, uppercut all buried into her fleshy midsection before she could suck in a single breath. Rising up from the ashes of what felt like her own demise, González flurried with enough leather to block out the overhead lights; twisting and cramming hooks and overhands into Hendricks’ upper half until a final left polished her chin and SLAMMED her to the canvas.

1… 2… 3… 4… Hendricks lifelessly groaned as she tipped partially through the ropes at her side; her enormous bust spilling out the top of her strapless corset as the ring shook from González exuberance.

5… 6… SHE’S OUT! HENDRICKS IS DONE!!

“And your winner, by KO in Round 6, EIZAAAA GONZZZZÁLEZZZ!!!!”

Post Fight:

González dismissively looked down at the twitching Hendricks, finally reaching and scooping up her deflated upper half by the bust of her strapless corset. Christina’s enormous tits spilled out the top of her rigid push-up bra as it was displaced, vacantly groaning as she stood as best she could at Eiza’s command. The merciless brunette could have easily went for the pin, but instead nuzzled tight to Hendricks’ chest, hugging the drunken redhead to hold her upright. Eiza wickedly grinned as she took a step back, allowing the dazed actress to fold forward on her own; lawn-chairing at the hip before González took hold of the back of her neck and ushered her skull between her slender, caramel stems.

Hendricks blubbered as Eiza posed her in Piledriver position; rocking her hips with the roar of the crowd as Christina began to sag with bent knees below her. The mewling actress was practically suffocating in her own bust; her porcelain orbs having spilled out the top of her corset as she was bent in half. Before the hold could deteriorate any further, Eiza handcuffed both of Hendricks’ elbows and tucked them behind her back in a Butterfly; inching to her tippy toes before collapsing and DRILLING the redhead’s face against the mat with a ruthless Pedigree. Hendricks squelched as she was FLATTENED between Eiza’s pelvis and the mat, violently twitching on her belly. González rolled the curvy redhead to her side and let her plop to her back; her corset having come undone and sagging around her lower abdomen, allowing her glorious bust to perk free. Gracefully tossing a leg over Hendricks’ neck and craning into a split herself, Eiza straddled Christina’s chin and buried her for the 3-count.

Tale of the Tape:

Victoria Justice (25-34-0, 25 KO)

5'5, 31 years old

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Caylee Cowan (4-12-0, 4 KO)

5'6, 25 years old

Global Boxing Syndicate

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

“AND NOW! Making her 60th appearance in the ring for the FCBA, fighting under the Celebrity Wrestling Federation flag. Please welcome the Hollywood, Florida native, standing 5 foot 5, weighing in at 110 pounds, VICTORIAAAAAA JUUUUUUUUUSTICE!!”

Vika’s delicate frame was tightly strung up in a thin-banded bandeau top that mushroomed her perky B-cups tightly to her swelling sternum; her slender hips bit into by a high-waisted string thong that split her plump, bronzed cheeks and disappeared between their folds. The lithe brunette’s dark locks were twisted in a tight, high pony tail; the tip of which danced against her shoulder blades as she bounced in her corner. Her lashes were painted with heavy, dark mascara and eyeliner that swooped with long wings toward her temples; her eyes narrowing as her opponent made her way in.

Coming off perhaps the biggest win of her budding career against streaking JMD superstar Elettra Lamborghini, Caylee Cowan had yet to capitalize on that momentum; falling right back into bad habits and losing four consecutive. The blonde’s slender waist was tightly wrapped in a strapless, push-up corset bra; her massive, natural E-cup breasts overflowing out the top. Her pale, porcelain skin blended with the bleached white top and matching string thong that disappeared between the curves of her lower half.

Round 1:

While Justice hadn’t fully shed her reputation of being an up-and-down fighter, she was an impressive 10-5 since joining the CWF. That said, this was exactly the type of fight she was prone to losing after winning her last three. Cowan ideally shouldn’t make the far more experienced brunette sweat; and in the first Justice looked as though she was in the right state of mind to make short work.

Vika paced the Cali-native into the corner in the first fifty; winding a succession of hooks into the body to push her to her heels. Left to the gut, right to the ribs, left to the rack, right to the ribs; Cowan wheezed and broke off with a grimace as Justice gleamed and circled back to level. Victoria ducked a blistering overhand and hauled another wheelbarrow-uppercut to the bottom of Caylee’s bust; springing her overflowing bosom and eliciting a shrill squeal from the blonde. Chin, solar-plexus, CHEEK, HIP; Cowan buckled and twisted through Justice’s ringer before a stumpy left just missed her temple. Cowan ducked and churned off the ropes, burying her shoulder in Victoria’s gut and walking her back to center. Justice hammered fists down on the small of her back before Cowan cleverly straightened and cut a left hook across the brunette’s lips. Justice was CAUGHT; her legs sliding apart into a half-split before steadying and gracelessly wobbling off her mark. Doe-legged and chasing the bell, Victoria tramped around the outskirts for the last ten seconds; commanding the round overall but being staggered late. It should’ve been more, but Justice takes the opener 10-9.

Round 2/3:

It seemed all Caylee needed to get her tail in the air was a spark and some tinder; as her late round find ignited a powder-keg in the next two rounds. Justice was a hollow shell of her opening round-self as Cowan found her chin repeatedly; a bladed hook-jab-hook combo to the lips bouncing the brunette’s pony tail in just the first thirty seconds. Justice vaulted through an undisciplined overhand volley, McElhone scolding from the corner just before Cowan rebutted with a venomous side-hook that crunched against the actress’ jawline. The brunette squelched as Cowan pushed and drummed a BRUTAL one-two-three off her bust; flattening her tits and trampolining her into the ropes. Justice fended off a swooping attack with pure athleticism as Caylee pursued; ducking a left, side-stepping a right, bobbing through a scissor-combo of jabs.

Eventually wading off the ropes, Vika slid around the back and lashed a parting left that thumped against Cowan’s temple and shook her footing for a split-second. Not at all deterred, Cowan kept the same flame to Justice’s feet in the third; burying her with punches in the corner on two separate occasions and taking back-to-back rounds by a score of 10-9.

Round 4:

Two rounds of being bullied by the bigger Cowan and Justice was starting to lose her temperament. Encouraged by her corner to employ more of a ‘guerrilla warfare’ approach, Justice put on her skates and started to out-rotate the slower blonde. Skidding in, Justice sliced a hook-hook-STRAIGHT through Cowan’s inviting rack; only to quickly olé the rebuttal. Grimacing as she swung and missed, Cowan dropped her hands as Justice rushed right back in; chunking a left-left-RIGHT through her navel.

Swelling in and out like the tide, Justice would bite and retreat before Cowan could snag her; flaying the increasingly stationary blonde up and down her abdomen. After a handful of rushes, Justice had all but buried Caylee up to her ankles in concrete; this time feigning low to drop the blondes hands before ERUPTING through her chin with a crooked uppercut. Cowan floundered as her head was snapped straight back, her bulbs vacantly flickering in their sockets as she sagged with bent knees. Her hunched frame teetered forward as Justice slingshot to her haunches; streaking a torrid right overhand from shoulder-to-hip, crushing Cowan in the side of the head. Caylee’s heavy hands fell first; gurgling as she dropped her mouthpiece to the mat and slowly tipped forward, CRASHING face-first to the canvas.

1… 2… 3… Cowan’s sprawled, lifeless frame pitched with convulsions on her belly; her arms folded up beneath her massive, pancaked chest as Justice threw hers to the rafters in jubilation.

4… 5… SHE’S DONE!! SHE IS OUT!

"And your winner, by KO in Round 4, VICTORIAAAAA JUUUUUUSSSSTICEEEE!!!!"

Post Fight:

Victoria was eager to make this a textbook finish; sliding down and rolling the pitching Cowan to her backside for a side-straddle pin. Caylee JUST managed to buck the brunette free; raising a shoulder as Vika pounded the mat in frustration. Cowan was still drifting along and going through the motions; rolling to her knees as Justice did the same, but rising much more slowly. Cowan hooked an arm over the top rope to stand, exhaustedly slouching against the outskirts as Victoria went for the finisher; launching herself into the ropes at her back and SPRINGING across the ring in a full sprint. Cowan gave little away as she remained stationary; waiting like a lamb to slaughter until Victoria ducked her head to spear the rudderless blonde.

Just as Justice lowered her shoulder, Cowan athletically vaulted forward; leaping in tandem with the brunette’s charge and hooking an arm around the back of her neck. In one balletic motion, Cowan twisted Vika’s lithe frame and DETONATED the tip of her skull against the canvas with a catastrophic Leaping DDT. Justice let out a guttural squelch as her forehead was slammed against the mat, her frame instantaneously sprawling limp as she trampolined flat on her belly. Cowan grimaced and slowly unraveled, grabbing the belted bandeau top strapped around Victoria’s chest and using the sweat-bunched material to sling her lifeless frame to her back. Justice’s smoky bulbs were rolled into the back of her skull, her jaw twisted and agape, her torso quaking with convulsions. Cowan placed a palm across Justice’s modest bust, mushrooming the brunette’s orbs until one spilled free; her caramel nipple stiffening as the blonde exhaustedly sprawled across her upper half. Tracing her fingers between the folds of Justice’s thigh, Cowan scooped up a leg and pulled her into a leg-hook pin; the pink folds of her plump peach devouring the crotch of her string thong as Caylee craned invasively higher. Finally the blonde let Vika’s thigh plop back down, victorious with a degrading 3-count.

Tale of the Tape:

Stana Katic (45-9-0, 45 KO)

5'9, 45 years old

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

Former FCBA Lightweight Title Holder

Former Jaguar Title Holder (6 Defenses)

vs.

Charlotte McKinney (32-24-0, 32 KO)

5’8, 30 years old

Free Agent

Former JMDD Title Holder (1 Defense)

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

"AND NOW! Making her 55th appearance in the ring, fighting under the Celebrity Wrestling Federation flag. Please welcome the Hamilton, Ontario native, standing 5 foot 9, weighing in at 125 pounds, STANAAAAA KAAAAAATIC!!”

Katic's lithe, statuesque frame glistened with a light sheen of sweat under the heat of the overhead spotlights as she slid out of her satin robe and revealed every taut, delicate curve of her bronzed skin. Each athletic twist and shimmy of her upper half caused her modest bosom to swell, her teardropping B-cups mushrooming out the top and bottom of the thin-banded bandeau top belted around her sternum. Katic craned her long stems and dipped into a graceful crouching split, limbering in her corner to some last minute instruction from her corner. Her pale-white string thong was devoured by folds of flesh, finally rising and rearranging the twined, biting string bottoms by hiking them high up her curvy hips. Her hazel bulbs locked with the far corner as her opponent entered; heavy, smoky eye shadow and mascara coating her long lashes in a messy, alluring cat-eye look. Ending her corner show, the brunette arched her rib cage and pressed to her tippy toes against the ropes as she slid into her gloves; throwing her tightly-braided, auburn pony tail over her shoulder before pumping her gloved fists together.

McKinney looked as though she'd raided Katic's closet, seemingly wearing the same-sized top as the brunette despite her heaving F-cups nearly busting loose. Her chest swelling in clashing red and white cups, McKinney hiked the waistband of her patriotic blue thong as she ponied her free-flowing, golden locks. There was no love lost between the CWF Captain and her former stablemate as the two lionesses locked eyes; with McKinney having given Katic one of her most degrading losses to date in their lone 2022 bout on the beach. Katic was not only looking for revenge, but also a win over a top Welter to prove she hadn’t fallen fully out of the conversation after losing her unprecedented Lightweight belt to Taylor Swift.

Round 1/2:

McKinney had the early air of a fighter who felt content to play with her food; her overt arrogance persisting even in the face of some sweltering pressure from the former Lightweight Champion. Katic artfully slid around McKinney’s sporadic volcanic eruptions, dipping past a thunderous right overhand to pepper the blonde’s bouncing chest with an electrifying left-left-right. McKinney brushed it off and strode back to the plate for what she felt was going to be an early knockout, practically laughing in Katic’s face before twirling through another unhinged hook. Again Katic ducked through and blistered the blonde’s midsection with a crippling flurry; Charlotte’s slender midsection buckling between the brunette’s lightning fists as she was zippered up both sides.

Her grin quickly turned upside down as she lashed out with a furious left-right; leaving her feet as she swung over the top of Stana’s rolling shoulder-blades. The ever-composed brunette parried and spiked a straight right off Charlotte’s rack, then a left to the hip, then a winding one-two to the chin. McKinney wobbled in place before shouldering into Stana and riding her into the boards; stuffing underhanded uppercuts into her waistline until a low-blow warning came out from the official as she intentionally split Katic’s thighs. The blonde dismissively huffed as she trudged to her corner at the end of the first; thoroughly out-worked and out-classed by a dialed-in Katic.

After losing the first by a score of 10-8, McKinney’s careless arrogance was duly replaced by a much more dogged attitude; locking in herself and bullying the much more technical Canadian. Constant body pressure weighed on the decade older brunette; as McKinney tested the resilience of her taut midsection with a parade of suffocating right hands. McKinney claws back in the second and pulls closer, 10-9.

Round 3/4:

Another three minutes of being leaned on in clinch after busty clinch, and Katic’s corner had to shift into overdrive to invigorate their staggered fighter. Being intentionally deprived of her stool to wake her legs back up, Katic nodded along to McElhone’s instruction after narrowly dropping a second consecutive round to the awakened McKinney, 10-9.

Coming out for the fourth, McKinney’s wry smile had returned; feeling as though she had Stana buried up to her waist in quicksand as she sliced a bloody left across the brunette’s lips. Charlotte extended a palm to find Katic’s panting chest; groping at the neckline of her bandeau top in an effort to direct the hunched Canadian into the corner before whipping a heated overhand right just past her cheek. Suddenly a guttural mewl erupted from between them, but it was Katic still standing tall; the blonde snapping over at the hip as Stana slipped a bladed right side-hook into Charlotte’s liver.

McKinney’s bulbs bugged as she was slung into the ropes herself; the two trading places as Katic hawked the blonde’s twisted frame for a landing zone. Sweat misted through the air as Katic spiked a shoulder-high right off the American’s clavicles, then a sharp left uppercut to the eye socket; a bifurcating one-two-three swinging like a pendulum and crushing her ribs from both sides to punctuate the sweltering flurry. McKinney spilled forward and gripped the brunette’s hips, driving off the ropes and tossing herself clean as a trail of drool followed in her drunken wake. Katic aggressively strode after, but alertly pulled up short of a back-footed missile from the blonde that just came up short of her cheek. With just thirty seconds left, McKinney pressed to steal back some of the round; drunkenly making a fool of herself as she twirled around the ring unable to catch Katic with any of her unruly swings. Stana undoes all of McKinney’s good work in the prior two, taking the fourth 10-8.

Round 5:

Charlotte was beet-red with embarrassment throughout the intermission, flustered at what she perceived as insolence from Stana for not rolling over and dying. Katic appeared to be holding the reins, but her corner was quick to remind her that all it took was a single misstep and the blonde’s powder-keg could erupt. Katic tip-toed to center as Charlotte huffed her way there a few seconds late, flinging a flamboyant left that ripped through the brunette’s navel with a throaty grunt of exertion. Katic responded with a poignant left to the rack, then another; throwing the blonde off balance just long enough to stuff a stumpy jab through her teeth. McKinney stamped to her heels, her bulbs flickering as Katic slid forward and ROPED a clothesline left toward the temple; only to see Charlotte arch below.

“NGGGGUUUUGGHH” Katic suddenly mewled, her tummy crunching as Charlotte lanced a deep, dripping left beneath the delicate curve of her rib cage. Katic’s abdomen concaved as her chest sputtered and swelled with a raspy breath, drifting sideways before the blonde straightened and came after her. Katic’s B-cups deflated as McKinney drove a straight right through her heart, then swiveled through a sweat-misting left-left to the cheek that sent the brunette careening messily into the corner. Katic’s lithe torso twisted and convulsed as she hid behind her forearms; a left piercing her hip, a right-right-right caving in her side, a one-two snapping her neck back and forth, a gutting uppercut piercing her navel. Her thonged ass slid down the post as she floundered on the ropes, throwing an armpit over the top to hang on as McKinney battered her walls with even more hail. Left hook to the sternum, right overhand to the temple, jab-cross to the lips; Katic drooled her crimson-stained mouthpiece between her split legs as she started to fold, her thighs buckling inward before McKinney surprisingly hip-checked into her.

Rather than letting the Canadian sag to the mat, McKinney held her upright for a moment with a hip stapled to her pelvis; softly cooing in her ear before sliding a palm up her abdomen and bunching the belted material of her bandeau top. The sweat-soaked material slid up Katic’s sternum as she hung awkwardly from it, whimpering as she spilled out the bottom before a savage overhand right spiked mercilessly against her cheek. Katic hoarsely bleated as she was slung to the canvas, kissing the mat before sliding gracelessly to a hip and unraveling against the base of the post.

1… 2… 3… 4… Katic’s glassy, hazel bulbs fluttered as she covered her mascara-smeared cheeks with the crook of her arm; her bare chest heaving with deep, swelling breaths as she sloshed to her back completely unaware of the mishap. McKinney doused the downed brunette in verbal taunts, straddling Katic’s waist and planting a heel on her teardropping rack to deflate her slender sternum further and keep her down.

5… 6… 7… 8… Given an extra moment as McKinney was hauled back to a neutral corner by the official, Katic floundered with her displaced top; tucking herself partially back in before the count quickly resumed. Rolling first to all fours, the resolute Canadian hauled upright with the aid of the ropes; slouching gracelessly against the same post she’d previously been pinned to as she caught her breath for another few seconds. Barely clearing the count at 9, McKinney was already back in her lap; drowning the seasick brunette in leather. Blood and sweat misted the mat as McKinney stormed her fort in the last thirty seconds; hook to the jaw, uppercut to the solar-plexus, jab-jab to the forehead, scything left-right-left to her partially bare rack. As the bell rung Katic aimlessly collapsed in her corner, hardly able to stand on her own and seeing stars as Charlotte paraded to hers. McKinney’s landslide was inescapable and Katic gets throttled, 10-8.

Round 6/7:

During a sixth round in which McKinney hunted another highlight-reel knockdown, Katic actually began to find solid footing once again in the last minute. Her noodly stems started to strengthen, playing twister with the stalking blonde and parrying just about every hellacious right she loaded up. In the last thirty, Katic narrowly stole the round with a gutty flurry; lassoing McKinney against the ropes and stringing together a sticky web of balletic body shots that wobbled the brazen blonde.

Carrying the scraps of momentum into the seventh, Katic continued to wade out of deep waters bit-by-bit; striking with sharp, covert barbs in between reckless attempted shellings from the blonde. McKinney couldn’t help herself but to swing out of her shoes repeatedly, opening up for chunks to slowly be taken out of her as Katic nibbled like a piranha taking bites out of a shark. Charlotte suddenly found herself breathing far more heavily as Katic rattled another looping combination off her navel, drifting sideways as she sucked wind and tried to escape toward the ropes. Katic shuffled after and feigned low to drop McKinney’s hands; the blonde completely fed up with having her tummy tucked by Stana’s taloned fists and thoughtlessly obliging. With McKinney’s defenses around her waist, Katic suddenly ROPED upwards and redirected her bladed right hand into Charlotte’s chin; clacking her teeth and ripping her head straight back.

The doe-eyed blonde recoiled with a guttural grunt and teetered backwards, grimacing as she gleamed her mouthpiece in twisted agony. Katic chased just convincingly enough to bait a whooshing left out of Charlotte mid-retreat; throwing herself off balance in sheer desperation before spilling into the ropes at her back. Katic darted forward and sliced through McKinney’s crumbling defenses with a beautifully choreographed dance; hook, hook, duck, cross, uppercut, skewering the blonde’s twisted flesh on the ropes. McKinney throatily wailed as the exclamation point-right detonated against her jaw; her skull lulling on her shoulders before her slender thighs pinched shut and she melted into a puddle of flesh on the mat.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… Charlotte’s enormous rack swelled with sharp, abbreviated pants beneath her slender sternum; her abdomen slowly inflating as she sputtered flat on her belly. Arms and legs strewn messily to all four corners, McKinney remained face-down through the first half of the count before her arms tucked beneath her upper half.

6… 7… 8… Curling into push-up position, McKinney groaned as she wobbled a few inches off the ground, her dangling chest tear-dropping to the canvas as her biceps shook; finally giving out and instead simply twisting to her back. The agonized blonde let out a resigned whimper as she fell flat once again, this time on her back, crossing her arms over her chest as the graceless jostle slung her natural F-cups out of the tiny cups of her bikini.

9… 10!! SHE IS OUT!

"And your winner, by KO in Round 7, STANNNAAAAA KAAAATTIC!!!!”

Post Fight:

McKinney’s fire had seemingly all but been snuffed out; resigned to a whimper as Katic reigned over her. The topless blonde squirmed as Katic approached, knowing what was coming as the brunette took her by the hair and yanked her to her feet. The dazed model coyly played up her stupor; wobbling on her heels as Katic let her be and slowly climbed atop the turnbuckle. Dropping to an indecent crouch, Katic suddenly VAULTED off the top rope and extended her frame for a brutal cross-body slam; only just as she reached the point of contact, McKinney effortlessly scooped her flying frame and caught her mid-air.

Katic let out a throaty grunt as she was stunned by the blonde’s coherence; McKinney snaking one arm between the brunette’s pinched thighs and the other around her neck. Katic kicked and pedaled and bucked her suspended frame, hanging from the blonde’s chest before Charlotte brutally CUT the ripcord; rotating and slicing Stana spine-first to the canvas with a gutting, high-flying reversal slam. Katic hoarsely squelched as the ring and her slender frame buckled; her hazel eyes fluttering into the back of her skull, mouth gaping as she gasped for air. McKinney was quick to repay the favor for having lost her top earlier; palming Katic’s natural, tear-dropping B-cups and WRENCHING them until they were mushroomed to her sternum. Just as Katic’s flushed, mascara-smeared features twisted in agony, Charlotte yanked down on the bandeau belt; ripping it around her navel. Katic gagged and rolled to her side; completely crippled as she violently pant and sputtered for air.

Ever the showman, McKinney rose for a victory lap; turning her back to the downed brunette and facing the bulk of the crowd. Drawing her thumb across her throat, Charlotte spun back to Katic; only just as she did, the brunette slithered between her legs and hooked her pelvis. Tugging down on the crotch of McKinney’s thong and hooking her hip with a forearm, Katic miraculously flipped Charlotte to the mat and SLAMMED her spine against the canvas. McKinney kicked her stems as Katic rose between them; using a humiliating leverage pin to throw her exhausted frame atop McKinney’s and STEAL a breathtaking 3-count before the blonde could kick loose. Before Charlotte could unravel, Katic had already rolled out of the ring; collapsing into McElhone and the rest of her corner as Charlotte looked out in stunned disbelief.

Tale of the Tape (JMD):

Lindsey Pelas (20-17-0, 20 KO)

5'3, 32 years old, 32F

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Vivian Hsieh (10-12-0, 10 KO)

5'5, 27 years old, 30F

Revolution Boxing

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:

"Welcome to this fabulous JMD contest… “

"AND NOW! Making her 38th appearance in the ring. Please welcome the Ruston, Louisiana native, standing 5 foot 3, weighing in at 120 pounds, LINDSEYYYYY PEEEEEELAS!!"

Lindsey was meticulously painted with a microscopic bikini that clung to her heavy, sloshing chest with admirable effort. The thin-banded, sheer white bandeau top did little to contain her massive, overflowing F-cups; her heaving orbs swelling as though they were fastened with a belt rather than a bikini top with how much cleavage and underboob was on display. Her wide, voluptuous hips devoured her string thong bottoms, the biting floss disappearing between her plump cheeks and bronzed folds of flesh as she slid salaciously into the ring. The platinum-haired, Louisiana-native’s locks were tied back in a tightly braided pony tail, extending just past her shoulders; her green bulbs gleaming through heavy, smoky mascara as she readied in her corner.

Hsieh had squared off with the CWF a handful of times in her career; most recently Stana Katic and Tina Louise before her. There weren’t many in the FCBA who could rival her assets, but tonight she was chest-to-chest with one of the few. Vivian was dressed to kill; her overflowing tits spilling out from a lavish, mostly sheer, black bikini top that was holding on for dear life. She hiked her bottoms as she climbed into the ring, splitting her alabaster cheeks with the thin string thong and bouncing on the balls of her feet, much to the delight of the crowd who enjoyed an obscene bit of jiggle physics.

Round 1/2:

Though Vivian had previously fallen to a pair of The Federation’s best in Louise and Katic, she was valiantly punching up in both contests. Tonight she saw the other side of the coin; standing two inches taller than the 5’3 blonde opposite her. After losing 11 of her last 12, it was just nice to see the proverbial ‘ball go in the basket’. Hsieh shut down the streaking blonde in the opener; opting for sheer aggression to swing Pelas to the back foot. Typically the aggressor herself, Lindsey was pushed immediately to her heels as Vivian belted lefts and rights up her side; hook-cross-hook alternating up her abdomen and puncturing her hip, ribs, and tits. Pelas’ knees pinched inward as she was overwhelmed by the shrieking brunette; wobbling into the ropes at the small of her back as Hsieh grouped another handful of volleys and POUNDED Lindsey’s titanic rack. Showing some grit and a bit of frustration, Pelas launched into the Taiwanese beauty and slung her across the ring; drawing ire from the official but managing to buck free of the opening minute berating.

The rest of the first and all of the second, Lindsey would sculpt her rebuttal; brawling instead of playing finesse with the slender Hsieh. Pelas dragged and grinded her way to a standstill; using clinch-after-clinch to paw and pluck at Vivian’s midsection with stumpy jabs and uppercuts. The busty test-of-strength made for mouthwatering viewing, but undesirable boxing; as Pelas finally rode Vivian into the corner for a punctuating hailstorm in the last twenty seconds. Vivian yelped and squealed as Lindsey spiked a right off her bouncing rack, then swept a left across her chin, then a wicked right-right-HOOK stamping her bouncing bust. The last came well after the bell; a frenzied shoving match erupting as the two traded verbal barbs and catty looks all the way to their corners. After Hsieh takes the opener 10-9, Pelas does the same in the second; all level after two.

Round 3:

Pelas seemed to have found paydirt; once again wrangling up the skittish brunette and sweeping her up in a two-handed clinch. The blonde raked and groped at the lighter brunette until she worked her into a backwards trot; swinging into the ropes as she started to shovel hooks into her gut. Hsieh barked and yelped as her torso was sliced through; wincing with each burrowing right hand to her navel. Vivian tried to shoulder through with no success; finally conceding to the body-to-body struggle and tugging on the small of Pelas’ spine to hug her tighter.

Suddenly there was a throaty mewl from the American; Pelas’ string thong-split ass jutting out as Hsieh twisted a low-blow uppercut through their frames and slung her right arm between the blonde’s thighs. Their intertwined stems masked the infraction as Lindsey gagged and peeled off; her bulbs stretched wide in shock as she gracelessly sprawled and fumbled straight back. Vivian ate up her trail; bounding after the staggered blonde and crow-hopping through an overhand volley that CRACKED off Pelas’ cheek. Rolls formed on Lindsey’s abdomen as a wicked left hook sliced beneath her ribs and doubled her; hoarsely grunting as a bouncing right-left-right chugged against the underside of her rack, then a gut-busting uppercut, then a SAVAGE overhand raked across her clavicles. Pelas twisted and side-stepped, sprawling into a half split as Hsieh pawed at her curvy hip and pulled her into another fleshy side-hook that speared her chest; slinging her enormous F-cups out the bottom of the bandeau top belted around her sternum. Lindsey sloshed into the corner, huddling behind her arms as Hsieh cranked and darted unhinged swings up and down her abdomen; flinging until she hit empty in the dwindling seconds of the round. Pelas miraculously hangs on, but Hsieh takes a wide lead and her confidence is beginning to mount. 10-8 Vivian.

Round 4/5:

Perhaps fatigued from the third round sprint towards a potential finish, Vivian had little in the tank after the break. The first half of the round was spent circling and leaning on one another; playful, probing jabs that lightly found busty padding just about the only offense from either fighter. Lindsey was the first to find a second wind; using it to barrel into the corner with Hsieh in-tow and hammer away at the brunette’s chesty bounty. It was far from dominant, but Pelas pulls closer with a 10-9 fourth.

Vivian’s stamina was trending in the wrong direction as she seemed unable to catch her breath; panting uncontrollably as she wobbled out for the fifth. An opening swing and miss saw her turnstile the ducking blonde; clumsily careening into the corner after Pelas punished her strikeout with a bony HAMMER to the rib cage. Pelas had been streaking as a fighter due in large part to her improved fitness; her impressive core flexing as she twisted through a torrid windmill left-right-left, cauterizing Hsieh’s abdomen on both sides. The wilting brunette gagged and hung forward at the waist as Lindsey pawed at her tear-dropping tits; pounding a right uppercut, scooping a brutal left, then polishing her rack with a breath-taking cross that elicited an agonized squeal from Hsieh. Vivian immediately collapsed to her knees and folded over her stems; burying her face against the canvas as she whimpered for breath.

1… 2… 3… 4… Hsieh sputtered and pant for oxygen as she held her enormous, swelling bust; gracelessly sliding to a sprawled seat as she tried to catch her breath and stop the crippling pulsing in her chest. Doe-eyed but showing immense heart, Hsieh started to stand; up by the count of 5 but unable to stop the runaway train barreling down on her. Her skull snapped between ferocious barbs from Pelas as the official waved her back in; squelching as a third snaked through and EXPLODED against her cheek. A hellacious right overhand clobbered her temple; her eyes glazing as her hands fell away, clearing the runway for one, two, THREE underhanded rights to bounce off her unprotected rack. Sagging against the ropes and needing a lifeline, the official finally dove in and waved off the blonde; sparing the disoriented model from further abuse.

"And your winner, by TKO in Round 5, LINDSEYYYYY PEEEEELLLASS!!!!"

Post Fight:

Lindsey took a moment to compose herself before her brow furrowed; thinking back on the wardrobe mishap and what she perceived as an intentional low-blow in the third round. Despite being surrounded by corner personnel, Pelas parted the seas; twisting her talons up in Vivian’s silky locks and SLINGING her to the canvas. Vivian spilled face-first in a blubbering heap; curling into the fetal position in hopes of making a breast smother from the furious blonde too difficult and cumbersome to pursue. Instead Pelas’ eyes narrowed on a much easier target; straddling the brunette and simply plucking the knot of her string bikini top. Hsieh shrieked as Lindsey tugged the sweat-soaked material and took her trophy; leaving the sprawled model face-down and bare-chested on her belly.

Pelas began whipping Vivian’s top around her head to rally the crowd; beaming ear-to-ear as Hsieh continued to squirm below her. The blonde finally dropped to her knees and rolled for a cover; her mammoth F-cups squishing and devouring Vivian’s bare chest as she laid down a cross-body before the Taiwanese beauty kicked out at 2. Pelas grinned as if she was pleased the punishment wasn’t over; hauling Hsieh up by the scalp and tossing her into a corner. Pelas got a running start and VAULTED at the last second; attempting to body-splash the pinned model.

Suddenly there was a CRUNCH as Hsieh raised her elbow and CRACKED Pelas across the jaw. The blonde messily sloshed into the post as Hsieh ducked out of the way and gracelessly spilled to the mat. Lindsey’s bulbs pooled and rolled in their sockets; one of her tear-dropping orbs spilling out the bottom of her belted bra as Vivian took a lap to compose herself. Pelas squirmed and squealed as Vivian lassoed each ankle and pulled her away from the corner; hanging onto the middle rope with both hands, her body arching completely parallel to the ground before her grip slipped. THWACK, Pelas breathlessly gagged as the air exploded from her lungs; her back arching off the canvas below as she craned into an anguished bow. Determined to one-up the devilish blonde who’d so callously taken her top, Vivian straddled Lindsey’s midsection and slowly peeled her out of her string thong bottoms; the landing strip of pubic hair manicured over her slit bristling with sweat as the band inched down her thighs. Pelas was too distraught to protest as she was gripped by the throat and yanked to her trembling legs; mascara streaking down her cheeks as the veins in her throat bulged and her lashes fluttered. Hsieh tightened her makeshift Chokehold grip; Pelas gurgling before Vivian SURGED and hoisted her six inches off the canvas. The shorter blonde’s toes pedaled as she was suspended for a split second, then BANG. Lindsey’s legs kicked out from under her as her shoulder-blades were SLAMMED through the mat; arms and legs messily exploding into a gruesome, exposed split as she was obliterated by a Chokeslam.

Pelas’ bare tits sloshed free from her displaced top as Hsieh took a moment to admire her comatose handiwork; her naked frame violently twitching with convulsions as she gurgled and violently pant. Scooping up the back of Lindsey’s left thigh, Vivian raised and tucked her knee to her chin; exacerbating the blonde’s humiliating position as she reached for a gaudy leg-spread pin. Pelas fleshy folds jiggled and shook with last-gasp spasms, rolls forming on her belly as she was tucked in half and buried for the official 3-count.