FCBA After Dark (XXX) III

Tale of the Tape:

Stana Katic (49-9-0, 49 KO)

5'9, 46 years old

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

Current FCBA Lightweight Champion 

(2x) FCBA Lightweight Title Holder

Former Jaguar Title Holder (6 Defenses)

vs.

Rhian Sugden (9-13-0, 9 KO)

5’6, 37 years old

PageThrees

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

Intro:

"AND NOW! Making her 59th 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.

The Federation was sure to get a load of brownie points with the fans for bringing Rhian Sugden over from the BBU; the former glamour model looking STUNNING as she gracefully aged toward her 40’s. Rhian’s spectacular E-cups were fastened tight to her chest, ballooning out the sides of a sheer black slingshot monokini. Her waist was as slender as ever, the bunched thong of her one-piece disappearing between her cheeks as she lifted her dirty blonde locks into a messy bun.

Round 1/2:

Despite Katic having just made FCBA history for a second time in six months, Sugden was hardly in awe of her counterpart. The British brawler was just as advertised; a JMD specialist who came out SLUGGING with the FBCA Lightweight Champion. The pair paid homage to Rhian’s roots as they traded a vicious rack attack in the first minute; with the padding-deprived Katic backing away from the busty drumming with a grimace etched across her face. Rhian wryly smiled and ran after the Champ; dipping low for a scoop-uppercut to the navel, then a tit-flattening hook-hook to the bust, then a SPIT-TAKE left scythed across Stana’s lips.

Katic clearly objected to the pace and slowed Rhian down in the second; injecting a technicality into the fight that the blonde would never match. Her craning reach was an issue that would persist in bothering Sugden; the statuesque brunette lancing jabs whenever she felt the need to stunt the blonde’s aggression. To her credit, the Brit was indeed eager; chasing a comeback in the last twenty seconds and walking right into a WICKED three-tap combo from Katic. The blonde’s head bobbled on her shoulders as Stana clubbed away with a visceral flurry; lips, temple, cheek. A wide-eyed Sugden was more than happy to find the bell after that; as the two trade 10-9 rounds in the first two.

Round 3:

Sugden wasn’t a deep-diver by any means; with her last twelve fights decided by the fifth round. Katic on the other hand was a work-horse; the majority of her bouts stretching into the twilight rounds. When you watched Rhian brawl, it was easy to see why. The blonde was fearless; coming out for the third and eating a double-serving from Stana’s right hand. Her line of pursuit never deviated, her head snapping straight back before lulling right back to her target; WHIPPING a stinging overhand into Stana’s cheek.

Katic now wobbled as she was unable to derail the train running her down; her slender lower stems widening as she ducked to Rhian’s height, catching a bony shoulder in the side of the head as the Brit SLAMMED into her pancaking chest. The pair twisted into the corner with Katic’s shoulder-blades hammering the post first; gruffly exhaling as Sugden postured and zippered a bladed quartet of hooks up her crunching abdomen. Katic gagged as the blonde’s machine-gun punctured her midsection; gouging out chunks of flesh as the Champ deflated into the corner. Sugden reared an ugly right hand; SLASHING across the brunette’s bosom and rattling her against the steel at her back. Hook to the underside of her tear-dropping bust, THUMPING heart-punch that flattened her tits, uppercut-uppercut that snapped her chin; Katic sunk lower with each domino as the blonde strung together a debilitating chain. McElhone hammered the apron to wake her floundering fighter; Katic eventually posturing above the riptide and dragging Sugden into a wiry clinch to stall out the last half minute. Rhian puts on a show, leading the FCBA Lightweight Champion after three thanks to a 10-8 drubbing.

Round 4:

Katic looked unbothered despite the blonde’s troubling message in the prior round; grinning ear-to-ear at a particularly boisterous line in McElhone’s mid-round pep-talk. Sugden was like a magnet to Stana’s hip, tracking down the brunette no matter how hard she tried to skirt away in the opening thirty. Sugden lashed a couple probing lefts toward Katic’s bandeau-belted rack, coming up short as the wispy Canadian backed away on-cue.

The Brit started to feel herself as she chased in once more, missing with another wide-ranging lasso before a WICKED left slung across her jaw from the shadows. Katic’s elastic reach snapped through the blonde’s chin and buckled her; Sugden’s heels stamping the canvas as she halfway spit out her gum-shield in a graceless backpedal. Katic needed no further invitation as she vaulted after; hook to the temple, uppercut to the chin, two PULSING straights to the blonde’s sloshing tits. Rhian trampolined into the ropes, hunching forward at the waist as her bulbs began to gloss over; rebounding into a CRISPY shouldered-left from Katic that CRUNCHED through her jaw. The Brit’s neck snapped sideways as she drooled her mouthpiece down her belly, gracelessly slung to the mat and sprawling out on her backside, tits up.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… The blubbering blonde’s heavy rack ballooned with deep, quaking breaths; one of her bronzed orbs spilling out from the shoulder-strap of her slingshot monokini as her upper half shook with the vibrations of the canvas. Katic turned her back on the comatose Brit as if to call her shot; Sugden’s bulbs flickering as she continued to rock with convulsions.

6… 7… 8… Rhian’s weighted arms slowly inched off the canvas before messily falling high above her head, whimpering as her thighs eased spread-eagle; unable to command any of her limbs to do as she asked.

9… 10!! SHE’S OUT!

"And your winner, by KO in Round 4, STANNNAAAAA KAAAATTIC!!!!”

Post Fight:

Katic hammered the mat in frustration, burying her face in her hands in disbelief as the buxom Brit SOMEHOW kicked out of her lightning quick pin attempt. Sugden was flickering in and out of consciousness, half topless, and unable to identify what planet she was on, yet somehow bucked loose at a generous ‘two’. In a bit of gamesmanship, Katic let Rhian rise; the pair going on to trade graceless, unorthodox wrestling holds for the next few minutes as Katic tried to do enough to secure a second knockout. First it was Katic with a lung-blowing Clothesline to Sugden’s titanic, bouncing rack; next, the Brit answered by lifting a heinous Low Blow between the Canadian’s thighs.

Katic’s cheeks flushed cherry red as she was peeled off the mat by her braided pony tail; dragging along behind the suddenly domineering Sugden before being lifted and SLUNG through a messy front flip with a scalp-tearing Hair Mare. Katic’s lanky frame sprawled spread-eagle as she skid to a floundering stop on her ass; throatily barking as she cradled the back of her head and writhed to a hip. With her enormous H-cups already spilling completely out the sides of her slingshot monokini, Sugden decided to level the field and more; prying at the bandeau bra tightly belted around Katic’s modest rack and dragging the squealing brunette across the mat until she shimmied the tiny white strap over her shoulders. Thinking the worst was over, Katic’s hoarse blubbering was reignited as Rhian swung around and clutched the sagging waistband of her micro-thong bottoms; TEARING them around her ankles with one violent tug to leave Stana completely naked.

Retreating to the far corner with her spandex prizes, the blonde’s celebration was short-lived; as just seconds later Stana sprung back to her feet and vaulted across the ring, SLAMMING shoulder-first into Sugden with a bony Body Splash. The Brit gasped as her colossal chest was pancaked, the pair tangling against the corner post as Stana turned her back at the last moment and threw a shoulder-blade into the blonde’s chest. The disheveled brunette hadn’t planned her next move, her reckless vault done out of sheer fury; recoiling half a step and swaddling her bare rack with an armbra as she turned to survey the damage.

“HHHhhhhnnnnngllllkkk” Katic suddenly squelched, drool sloshing from her bottom row of pearly white teeth as Rhian snaked a forearm around the Canadian’s throat from behind. Stana’s bare chest swelled as the veins in her throat crackled and bulged against the crook of Rhian’s elbow; her heels gracelessly stamping the canvas, her hands blindly fumbling backwards and trying to push away. Instead the blonde’s noose just grew tighter, her heavy bust bowing the back of Katic’s spine as she arched straight back; hanging the gurgling Canadian in her grip.

The statuesque, gangly brunette walked off the ropes with Rhian on her back like a shawl, drifting toward the center of the ring. Suddenly Sugden leapt fully atop Katic’s back, the brunette’s slender thighs quaking before pinching inward and buckling; SPIKING to the mat on her knees. Katic’s long stems quaked as they were caught up beneath her, folding awkwardly over her own calves before the locked pair tipped backwards and Rhian slammed to her back with Stana in-tow. Now the Brit could add her own limbs to the debilitating hold; alligator-rolling back and forth in order to wiggle her legs free and CLAMP them around Stana’s slender waist. The mortified brunette’s jaw snapped wide open, slack-jawed as she pant and spasmed for oxygen; only to have the last ounces BURST from her lungs as Sugden lowered her calves and hooked the insides of Stana’s knees. With a gurgling whimper, the brunette’s toned stems were RIPPED apart; Sugden tearing her lower half into an obscene split. Katic’s thighs stretched until they were bowed parallel to one another, the thick bush of pubic hair manicured above her slit bristling as her sweat-soaked kitty was crudely revealed and stretched until it blossomed. Katic’s taut abdomen crunched forward, her hands seemingly lost between needing to be three places at once; a split second spent prying at Rhian’s wrist, another palming to cover her stiffening, caramel nipples, another cupping her plump slit.

Katic’s hazel bulbs began to glaze over as her cheeks reddened, her long, mascara-smeared lashes flickering as her swelling pants began to grow more violent and sporadic. Her bare, tear-dropping tits quaked with convulsions, slobber spattering across her sternum as Sugden rag-dolled her deeper into her Sleeperhold with a callous shimmy. Finally Katic’s abdomen stiffened, shaking with one last breath before she deflated and sunk into a puddle in the Brit’s lap. The mat shook as Katic’s lifeless corpse was slung to the mat, floundering to her hip before lulling flat on her back, tits up at Sugden’s side. Not quite content, Rhian snared both ankles and once again split the brunette’s elastic stems; racking the Canadian’s lower half into another torturous full-split until both ankles were pinned to the mat. Katic’s bushy slit once again flowered, her crunched abdomen buckled atop itself; Sugden keeping her gangly frame spread and stapled to the mat until the lewd 3-count was up.

Tale of the Tape (Cougar Title):

Tina Louise (11-4-0, 11 KO)

5'7, 43 years old, 34D

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

Cougar Title Holder (1 Defense)

vs.

Cheryl Cole (54-19-0, 54 KO)

5'3, 40 years old

Lioness Club

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

Intro:

"AND NOW! Making her 16th 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.

Cole answered with a lighter hand and a touch more class; clad in a leopard-print push-up bra and matching string bikini bottoms. The singer was showing a bit more skin than usual, but even at 40 the Brit looked stunning. Her long, wavy locks were twisted into a tight, braided pony tail; snow white gloves waiting for her in her corner as she gracefully climbed through the ropes.

Louise had been lightning in a bottle for The Federation; already challenging for a JMD belt and bringing home a Cougar Title in little over a year. Much like their workhorse, Katic, the Aussie had gotten started after 40; while her counterpart Cole had accomplished a monumental amount in her career before even hitting said plateau. The British beauty was a BBU Flyweight Champion and sure-fire Hall-of-Famer if she chose to continue the grind to 100 FCBA bouts, but she was on the short end of the measurables battle here tonight. Louise was a horse of a Bantam, and given the nature of the combined divisions competing for the Cougar Title, Cole would need her best.

Round 1:

Kardashian and Chastain had laid the blueprint for Cole, both exposing the occasional glass chin of Louise; but the Aussie was far too aggressive in the opener to give access. The pair whipped around the ring in a dervish for the first two minutes as Tina poured a deluge of fancy rights into Cole’s inviting stature. Cole needed both hands to count the close calls as the fuming Aussie went after her chin from all angles; overhands, winding hooks, uppercuts, all narrowly skirting by as the singer flashed her catty reflexes. A closing flurry near the corner finally saw damage, as Louise bullied Cole across the top rope and lanced a wicked jab-hook-hook-jab into her bobbing upper half; the last STAMPING her lips just before the bell. Cole didn’t dispel any of the worry about her reach disadvantage, but she clearly had her dancing shoes. Louise, 10-9.

Round 2/3:

Cole’s punching power was never a question, but rather her ability (or inability) to tunnel through Louise’s gangly length to unleash her brand of hell. In the second, Cole put the Champ’s feet to the flames. It began much like the opener, with Cheryl ducking an elastic overhand, then a scything left-right; the Aussie finally slowing as Cole lifted a PUNISHING side-hook into Louise’s exposed rib cage. Tina gagged as her side caved in around Cole’s right; wincing as a left sliced through her blind spot and PUMPED her perky rack. Louise squelched as her sternum was jolted with a suffocating defibrillator, sagging forward and pulling behind her hands as Cole looked to tear apart her midsection. 

Louise’s tight abdomen crunched with rolls of flesh as a lightning tap-tap pierced her navel, alternating hooks slamming and sloshing her hanging rack; the model’s hands finally weighing just enough for Cole to crane sideways and CUT a left hook across her exposed cheek. Louise was thrown into the ropes in the last thirty seconds; Cole poking and prodding with shouldered rights to the eye, cheek, temple, heart, chin. Louise’s scrunched frame sagged to Cole’s height as the round finally expired; the singer EMPHATICALLY answering any questions as to whether she could manipulate her way inside Louise’s oppressive reach.

The third was a much needed curveball from Louise, as the towering Aussie slowed her firecracker opponent with a commanding game of cat and mouse. Cole knew better than to blindly walk into Tina’s length, but the crafty Aussie continued to put out bait and hope for a nibble; all the while keeping her elastic right hand cocked and ready. It was a glacially-paced third, but Cole conceded the round in hopes of winning the war. After a 10-8 Cole shellacking, Tina levels the fight with her second 10-9 round.

Round 4/5:

Despite Louise eking out a narrow scorecard victory in the third, Cole’s confidence was growing dangerously unchecked. The feisty Brit increasingly felt as though she were holding the reins, using her skittish movement in the first minute to facilitate a few graceless swings and misses from the frustrated Aussie. Louise curled up behind her gloves and chased in, lassoing another reckless right over Cole’s head just as the brunette THUMPED a wicked left-right off Tina’s curvy waistline. The pixie-haired blonde hoarsely mewled as her hips rocked between the Brit’s fists; her next gulp for air getting caught in her throat as Cheryl side-stepped and SPIKED a straight jab through her solar-plexus. Louise’s jaw hit the floor as her lower stems buckled, floundering hip-first into the near corner as a hand rushed to cover her pulsing sternum.

Cole crashed in like an unforgiving tide as Louise drifted into deeper waters, RIPPING through her teetering upper half and gouging out her flotation devices. A suffocating hook-cross pulsed Louise’s bust, an uppercut scooping out her slender navel; the blonde wailing before an overhand STUFFED down her throat and sent her sprawling over the top rope. Louise’s clingy bandeau top was a catastrophe waiting to happen, riding up toward her clavicles as Cole slid to the side and POUNDED one, two, three… six, SEVEN merciless hammers across her tear-dropping bust; the last few causing her D-cups to spill out the bottom of her belted top. Cole’s drumming slowed in the last thirty seconds to a more methodical pace; slicing through the Aussie’s fractured defenses with purpose and LANCING her wobbly chin as she hung on to the ropes.

Louise struggled through the intermission and equally so in the fifth, answerless as the British jitterbug opposite her refused to slow down or stand still. Cole relentlessly harassed the mostly stationary Aussie, flattening her poor bust thanks to its convenient punching level. Cole FLIES out to a lead thanks to back-to-back 10-8 and 10-9 rounds.

 

Round 6:

Louise had only gone beyond the sixth twice in her fifteen fights, and the wobble in her step certainly seemed to point to another early finish. Cole could taste the Aussie’s resignation; Tina’s bandeau-belted chest frenetically rising and falling with violent pants despite the break between rounds. Still, Louise drank in her corner’s instruction, engaged despite the pounding she’d taken the last few rounds.

Cole was already waiting center-ring as Louise lifted off her stool; her spine hunched to the point she was nearly the Brit’s height as they offered a quick glove tap. Cole was first in with a FEROCIOUS left-right-uppercut; just skimming Louise’s cheek with the first, then coming up shy of her swelling bust with the last. Louise darted a token left jab against the Brit’s button nose to keep Cole honest, but the singer was fearless off the back of her recent forays; rushing the net to serve and volley and attempting to crash into Louise with an overhand right. Lost in the shuffle as Cole pushed forward was a bony CRUNCH; Louise balletically sliding to her heels and scraping a hip-to-chin uppercut through the Brit’s jaw. Cole’s bulbs instantly glossed over, taking an awkward misstep as she was caught on the button by Tina’s right fist. Louise’s towering frame was buoyed by her wicked right connecting, coming over the top with a left that rattled off Cheryl’s forehead. Cole now found herself on her heels as the previously dormant Aussie vented flames as she flurried; slicing a left off Cole’s lips, then stamping a right against her flushed cheek. Louise walked Cole down, hook-jab-cross-hook; the Brit’s skull snapping straight back as each rattled off her mystified face. The ropes bowed as Cole’s spine finally hit rubber; Louise catching her on the rebound with a FEROCIOUS screwdriver uppercut that wired her jaw shut and sent the Brit spilling messily to her backside.

1… 2… 3… 4… Cole floundered to her hip with a single arm propping her up, trying to redistribute her weight but instead fumbling over her propped left arm and collapsing face-first. The woozy Brit wormed her way completely prostrate on her belly, her eyes glazing over as she stared expressionless at the floor.

5… 6… 7… The ring quaked as Louise leapt into the arms of her corner, Cole slowly sprawling out spread-eagle as it became increasingly apparent she was completely lost.

8… 9… 10!! SHE’S OUT!

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

Post Fight:

Louise alertly began peeling her gloves as soon as the count hit ten; taking Cole roughly by an ankle and dragging the split-legged Brit toward the middle of the ring where she had more space to work. Cole’s pert chest was practically swelling out the top of her leopard-print push-up bra; panting uncontrollably until Louise straddled her upper half and took a deflating seat atop her tits. Cheryl’s mouth eased open with a gentle exhale, whimpering as Louise’s lanky abdomen crunched forward and hovered over her face.

Louise looped her middle and ring fingers around the waistband of her own thong bottoms, bunching the crotch of her micro bikini and tugging it to the side; just far enough for her plump lips to peek out from behind the sweat-soaked material. Cole’s chin began to shake in protest, squealing before Louise THRUST her hips forward and pinched her thighs around the brunette’s temples. Cole’s prone frame suddenly stiffened as the Aussie’s slit suffocatingly pressed against her lips and nose; the thin landing strip shaven above Tina’s cunt bristling as Cole’s twisted features smeared against her pelvis. Muffled wails and shrill squeals leaked between Louise’s thighs as she pinched her golden stems tighter; grabbing the back of Cheryl’s braided pony and guiding her deeper between her legs. Cole’s mascara-smeared bulbs flickered before rolling into the back of her skull, her chest deflating as the air seeped from her lungs, her legs hammering the mat and sliding spread-eagle as she mercifully lost consciousness. Louise continued to grind her hips and shimmy atop the sleeping Brit; a soft whimper easing from her own lips as her lower half began to quake, just stopping before the show became TOO overtly lewd. Allowing the crotch of her bottoms to slide back into place, Louise craned back and scooped one of the brunette’s meaty thighs; pinning it to Cheryl’s own chest for a humiliating leg-spread 3-count pin.

Tale of the Tape (JMD):

Lindsey Pelas (22-17-0, 22 KO)

5'3, 33 years old, 32F

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Lindsay Lohan (52-56-1, 43 KO)

5'5, 37 years old, 36D

Free Agent

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

Intro:

"Welcome to this fabulous JMD contest… “

"AND NOW! Making her 40th 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.

Lohan was a one-time JMD stalwart; dominating nearly a decade ago but understandably falling out as she lost managerial support. The fiery redhead was clad in an appropriately minuscule attire for this JMD occasion; a partially-sheer micro bikini top that hugged her porcelain upper half and a matching string thong that was lost between her cheeks. Her matte black top and bottoms were adorned with a set of gaudy body jewelry, accentuating her aging curves as she returned to the ring for the first time in 2024.

Round 1:

Pelas had found a deadly groove since joining The Federation; amassing a 17-9 record over the last two years, primarily at JMD where she was hand-crafted to punish most of the division. Despite a slight reach disadvantage, the voracious blonde was still an outright bully; particularly against an opponent that wasn’t battle-tested as of late. Lohan found herself battered into a retreat in just the second minute; side-winding lefts and rights POURING into her rack from both sides. The shell-shocked redhead kicked into a trot and circled the outskirts; hissing as Pelas arrogantly licked her lips for more. The blonde got just what she wanted, cornering Lohan in the dwindling seconds and pounding boorish shots up and down her midsection; hook to the hip, uppercut to the waistline, hook to the navel, machine-gun right-right-left to her vulnerable bust. Finally Lohan pushed off and broke free, escaping to stall out the last few seconds. Pelas finds plenty of nasty early, taking an early 10-9 lead.

Round 2/3:

The bawdy blonde continued to stalk in the opening moments of the second, running Lohan down just off her stool and pinwheeling a reckless two-handed flurry into her forearms. Lohan’s upper half rocked as Lindsey shelled her gloves; peeking through the cracks and timing a right-handed rebuttal that was dripping with venom. Pelas suddenly squelched as Lohan coiled and slid a bladed right hook just beneath her armpit, piercing the busty blonde’s exposed sideboob. Lindsey’s knees buckled as she froze in place, whimpering a soft exhale before Lohan PISTONED a crunchy left into the center of her sternum. Pelas was flung into the corner as if she’d been hit by a cannon; her plump, thonged ass jutting through the ropes as she threw an elbow over the top rubber and hung to her side.

The blonde’s heavy chest quaked as her belly crunched with rolls of flesh, gagging up her mouthpiece as Lohan pushed in and sliced another lacerating one-two across her bust. Lohan timed the blonde’s chest-swelling pants for oxygen, dipping in unison and swiping a bear-claw left across her mountainous rack. Pelas squealed as one of her bronzed orbs spilled out the bottom of her thin-banded top, the Ruston native gracelessly sliding into a half-split as she hung from the ropes and floundered around on her heels. Lohan immediately following with a wicked left swiped across her lips, a mouthful of bloody drool staining the canvas as the blonde groggily tipped sideways. Pelas desperately lurched forward and hugged the redhead’s waist; trudging off the ropes and dragging Lohan with her. McElhone slammed her hand to signal the last ten, imploring her dazed fighter to just hang on for a few more seconds.

Pelas made it to break, but the third was no kinder; Lohan’s immense power simply buckling the stunned model every time she managed to land anything at all from her Championship-caliber right hand. Lohan began to show visible fatigue in the last minute, but the bedraggled blonde was too heavy-heeled herself to capitalize. Lohan storms out with 10-8 and 10-9 rounds, absolutely shelling the heavy favorite.

Round 4/5:

The older, more heavily-ridden Lohan started to show troubling signs despite treating Pelas like a slab of meat for the last two rounds; aching as she climbed off her stool for the fourth and lost the race to center. Pelas wasn’t asked to do much as the redhead was largely stationary; allowing the blonde to swarm with a drumming of her own to Lohan’s heavy bust.

After an energy-conserving win for Pelas in the fourth, the blonde dipped into her fuel reserves and looked to dust the fading actress for good. Suffering a wardrobe malfunction earlier, the jug-mugging was now personal for Pelas; the blonde putting every single one of her 120 pounds behind each breathtaking hook to Lohan’s deflated rack as she pushed her around the ring. A piercing left slipped beneath the curve of Lohan’s tear-dropping rack, then a right hook to her sideboob; the redhead twisting like mad to evade Lindsey’s meticulousness before a THUMPING straight to the center of her sternum ceased her squirming. The New York native’s shrieks grew more hoarse and agonized as Pelas stapled her hip-to-hip to the ropes and LASHED lung-blowing hooks into her heart. Lohan’s head snapped straight back as the blonde snuck a bony uppercut through their frames and DETONATED it against her chin; holding the limp redhead up for another THUMP-THUMP to her tits before she pooled at the model’s feet.

1… 2… 3… Lohan spiked to her knees before sprawling out flat on her belly, arms strewn high above her head as her slender frame slowly swelled with sharp, abbreviated pants. The actress’ mewling was largely involuntary as she remained otherwise motionless, making no effort to rise as the official leaned in to check her.

4… 5… THAT’S IT! SHE IS OUT!!

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

Post Fight:

Pelas’s preening had gone on long enough for Lohan to somewhat come to; the aching redhead whimpering as Lindsey continued to showboat around her downed frame. The blonde’s top had seen better days, completely sheer with sweat and glued to her golden orbs as she sauntered around to Lohan’s hip and began removing it altogether. The coup de grâce was on deck, the titanic-chested model allowing her tits to slosh free as she dropped to her knees for a finishing breast smother; only Lohan had other plans.

Pelas BARKED as the fiery redhead came to life and whipped a fleshy palm across her cheek, delivering a brain-scrambling open-handed slap to the cocky model and slinging her to the canvas on her belly. Pelas’s enormous, naked orbs mushroomed against the mat as she sprawled in frozen shock, grunting in frustration as she rolled back to face Lohan just in time to have the actress DIVE between her thighs. The suddenly awakened Lohan went absolutely nuclear on Pelas’s midsection, HAMMERING elbows into her naked chest and crunching gut until the blonde was a gagging, blubbering mess. Pelas’s chest shook with spasms, squirming on her back and breathlessly coughing up drool as Lohan peeled off; retreating to her knees and taking a run at the blonde’s sagging string thong. Pelas’s thighs invitingly chicken-winged into a full split as Lindsey tore at the crotch of her bottoms; yanking and shimmying until she successfully shred the twine material and stripped Pelas completely bottomless. Another SAVAGE elbow to the blonde’s spasming navel silenced her protests, rolls forming on her belly as she tried to crunch upwards, only to have a two-handed shove to the forehead sling her shoulder-blades to the mat.

Lohan quickly skittered around toward Pelas’s shoulders as the blonde tried to sit up, pinching her thighs together as best she could to hide her bare slit from the invasive views of the ringside cameras. A hoarse shriek suddenly rang out as Lohan TORE Pelas up by the scalp; contorting the buxom model and snaking her forearm around Pelas’s throat. Lindsey’s shrill squeal morphed into a guttural squelch, her frame gracelessly curling forward as Lohan twisted a boa-like Dragon Sleeper around her neck from behind. Pelas’s stems desperately began to pedal before kicking out, the landing strip shaved above her plump slit bristling as Lohan crudely slid her off-hand over her slick pelvis. The blonde’s enormous F-cups sloshed and quaked, her mangled frame stiffening with convulsions as Lohan cranked her skull straight back and clamped a vice around her throat. Veins bulged in the blonde’s neck, her fingers desperately prying at the insatiable redhead’s forearm, her lawn-chaired frame twisting for a centimeter of air to breathe. Finally Pelas’s mighty, naked rack swelled with one last sputtering pant, drool sloshing down her abdomen, her hands falling away and hammering the canvas. Rolls of flesh formed on her belly as she gracelessly folded and hunched forward, her meaty thighs pounding the mat as her legs slid out into a lewd split. Lohan gave the blonde’s bare kitty one last fleshy SLAP before slinging her spine to the mat. The panting redhead observed her handiwork as she craned over Pelas’s lifeless frame, grabbing both ankles and peeling her heavy legs off the mat; folding the blonde until her thighs were mushrooming against her tear-dropping orbs. Pelas’s bare ass perked skyward as she was pinned like a butterfly, her bronzed frame twitching and sloshing with convulsions until the 3-count mercifully ended her suffering.

Tale of the Tape (JMD):

Lucy Pinder (9-24-0, 9 KO)

5'5, 40 years old, 32H

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Caylee Cowan (4-13-0, 4 KO)

5'6, 25 years old, 34E

Global Boxing Syndicate

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

Intro:

"Welcome to this fabulous JMD contest… “

“AND NOW! Making her 34th appearance in the FCBA. Please welcome the Hampshire, England native, standing 5 foot 5, weighing in at 125 pounds, LUCYYYYY PINNNNNDERRRR!!”

Lucy was scantily clad in a pale-white, sheer bikini that clung to her heavy H-cups as if it were painted on her skin. The thin-banded bandeau top did little to contain her natural, overflowing chest; her heaving orbs swelling as though they were fastened with a belt given the ample cleavage and underboob being shown. The Brit’s bronzed skin glimmered with a light sheen of perspiration; her satin, shoulder-length 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.

Cowan was a trainer’s dream; fit, lanky, and impossibly curvy in all the right places. 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:

Cowan was a complete mystery when studying her results; squandering what could have been a career-propelling victory over Elettra Lambourghini by losing five straight after. Pinder was another mediocre test to see whether she’d turned any sort of corner in her preparation and execution. While the Brit was fifteen years her senior, Lucy had been fighting extremely well since signing on with The Federation and the expectation was that she’d get even better. Both custom-contoured for JMD, it was tough to pick a favorite before the young filly EXPLODED onto the scene in the opener. The gangly youngster absolutely SHELLED the brunette’s heavy rack in the first two minutes; slicing hooks testing the tensile strength of her bandeau top, weighty uppercuts emptying her lungs, straights dotted from navel-to-clavicles. Pinder was answerless in the face of Cowan’s bottomless energy, falling behind quickly with a 10-8 round in Caylee’s favor.

Round 2/3:

Pinder was a sponge in the intermission, seeping up her corner’s wisdom and dumping it right back on the blonde in the second. Her record might be underwhelming, but the Brit was a JMD specialist and she’d taken FAR worse punishment than Cowan doled out in the opener. All it took for the front-running Cowan to figuratively fall on her face was a nasty, gnarling overhand right to the heart; the Cali-native wailing as her springy bust was HAMMERED by the blood-thirsty brunette. Pinder saw red as the flood-gates finally opened; hook-hook to the ribs, underhanded left to the waist, chin-temple-cheek. Cowan blubbered as a JOLTING left snapped against her bony jaw; drooling her mouthpiece between her legs before Pinder crow-hopped forward and LACED a wicked right between her jugs. Caylee’s chest concaved around Lucy’s fist as she was bludgeoned into the ropes; walling off behind her wobbly hands as Pinder stamped another handful of probing rights up her midsection. The blonde’s tight abdomen flexed and spasmed as her belly took loads of un-shielded punishment; Pinder mercifully being stymied by the bell before she could hunt a finish.

Despite the Brit’s success in the second, she was stuck in neutral for the majority of the third. Cowan’s frustrating, unorthodox defense mechanism consisted mostly of turning-tail and running; and with Pinder giving up nearly two decades of youthful exuberance to her opponent, it was in her best interest not to chase. The pair saw-off to a draw in the third.

Round 4/5:

Thanks to a mental and physical reset of sorts, Cowan was able to hit the gas again in the fourth and simply overwhelm her older counterpart; leaning on the back of a colossal ‘punches thrown’ advantage and narrowly stealing the fourth round despite doing little damage herself.

While somewhat unspoken, McElhone made it clear in the break that it wasn’t in Lucy’s best interest for this fight to needlessly drag along. Pinder took the message to heart, using an opening flurry to really put the blonde’s feet to the flame. Cowan and Pinder traded brutal, fleshy hammer-fists to the jugs; the blonde bleating as she pulled away holding her jiggling chest. Pinder winced as she followed, subverting Caylee’s expectations as she pawed out with a deceptive left hand before CUTTING a looping right across her lips. Cowan’s fleet footing turned to ice skates; sliding into a retreat just before Lucy lassoed her in the near corner. Cowan attempted to clam up in a shell, only for Pinder to RIP alternating hooks into her abdomen to open her back up; navel, rib cage, clavicles. Caylee blossomed and whooshed an uncoordinated left over Lucy’s ducking head; the Brit rising and STAMPING a one-two-three up her frame. A chunky side-hook rocked the blonde’s hip, a bladed left sinking into the supple underside of her hanging bust, a BONY uppercut wiring her jaw shut; the blonde teetering wide-eyed to her heels for a split second before CRASHING to her ass near the ropes.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… Caylee fumbled to all fours before dragging up on the ropes; her ample bust swelling out the top of her push-up corset as she pant with frenetic breaths. Pinder bounced on her toes and seemingly readied for a re-engagement; waiting for a starry-eyed Cowan to pass the official’s check before coming right back on. The busty Brit put everything she had behind a full-bodied, chest-high right; POUNDING through Caylee’s forearms and thumping her porcelain bust with a weighted defibrillator. The blonde gutturally squelched as she erupted out the top of her corset, lawn-chairing at the waist and sagging into the near post. Pinder sidled after and CLUBBED a left across her cheek, then a right; palming the blonde’s bare, swelling orbs and tipping her back upright. Cowan’s frame twisted as Pinder plastered her against the steel post at her back and SCORCHED her torso; hook-uppercut-hook, jab-jab to the rack, uppercut to the belly. FINALLY the official poured in and stopped Lucy’s mauling, hauling the Brit off her fully slouched victim.

"And your winner, by TKO in Round 5, LUCCYYYYY PINNNNNDERRR!!!!"

Post Fight:

Cowan was still delirious as Pinder scooped her off the ropes; saving the partially-topless blonde from sagging all the way to her ass in the corner. The Brit cradled the back of Cowan’s neck and sensually guided her skull beneath the opposite armpit; pausing for effect as Caylee clumsily twisted and squirmed to break free. With Lucy readying a heartless DDT drop, Caylee suddenly dropped HERSELF to a knee and FLUNG a forearm between the brunette’s thighs.

“NNHHHGGGGOOOHHHLL” Pinder throatily howled, her thighs pinching together as she melted to her backside from the brutal low-blow. Lucy coughed and gagged as she floundered to a hip with both palms cupping her mound; drool smearing across the mat along with streaks of mascara as she writhed on her side. Cowan added insult to injury with one quick flick of her wrists; YANKING on the waistband of Pinder’s twine thong bottoms and tearing the sweat-soaked material over her ankles. Lucy gutturally mewled as her palms tightened around her bare crotch; just barely shielding the thin landing strip of pubic hair shaved above her plump slit. Cowan craned and twisted her digits around two clumps of Pinder’s matted locks; RIPPING the mortified brunette to her wobbly feet. Before Lucy could protest, Cowan folded the buxom Brit at the waist with a knee to the gut; a stream of drool trailing to the mat as Lucy barked in breathless shock. Pinder’s lower stems eased into a revealing split as she hung lower; her fuzzy peach peeking out from between her spread legs, one of her fleshy, golden orbs spilling out the top of her belted bra as she wiggled uncomfortably in Caylee’s grasp.

Cowan arrogantly postured and tucked the brunette’s skull between her legs; Pinder messily sloshing forward and wrapping her palms around the back of Caylee’s thighs. As Pinder began to squirm, Cowan repositioned; slowly tracing her hands down Lucy’s hips and clasping the backs of knees. Pinder’s curvy frame crunched with rolls of flesh as Cowan pretzeled her into a tight package; tucking her knees to her belly, squealing as her naked thighs pried further apart into a lewd split. With an exerting hoist, the blonde raised Lucy into the air; rotating her completely vertical as the stunned Brit hoarsely groaned. Pinder’s cheeks flushed as she delayed vertical; her enormous, swelling H-cups succumbing to gravity and sloshing out of her straining top. Pinder shook her head and opened her mouth to scream just as Cowan pulled the cord; dropping out and SPIKING the tip of Pinder’s skull into the mat. The Brit squelched as her consciousness was erased with a sickening Package Piledriver; bouncing off the mat and gracelessly sloshing to a buckled stop on her backside.

Pinder’s heavy, pancaking breasts were still partially strapped by her thin-banded top; swelling out the top of the sagging material as her sternum swelled with violent pants. Her smoky, mascara-smeared lashes fluttered as her bulbs rolled into the back of her skull; her upper half quaking with convulsions as she sprawled spread-eagle, arms thrown above her head. Cowan slid to her bare lower half, crudely groping at her inner thigh and hoisting a heavy leg toward her belly; lifting Lucy’s naked lower half off the mat and splitting her stems with a leg-hook pin. Pinder’s bare folds spread as her legs were torn into a split; her frame still rocking with spams as the 3-count rang out.

Tale of the Tape (JMD):

Melissa Debling (4-2-0, 4 KO)

5'5, 35 years old, 32G

Celebrity Wrestling Federation

vs.

Keeley Hazell (4-12-0, 4 KO)

5'6, 37 years old, 32F

This Is Glamour

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

Intro:

"Welcome to this fabulous JMD contest… “

"AND NOW! Making her 7th appearance in the FCBA. Please welcome the Kent, England native, standing 5 foot 5, weighing in at 125 pounds, MELISSAAAAA DEBBBBBLING!!”

Melissa’s titanic G-cups struggled to stay fastened by the sweat-soaked, sheer bandeau top she was carefully tucked into; her teardropping chest swelling with anxious pants as she made her way down the ramp. Aging like a fine wine into her mid-30s, the curvy model was looking noticeably trim and tight since signing with her new Stable. Her plump backside jiggled as she rolled through the ropes, her pale white string thong lost between the folds of her cheeks. Her loose, golden locks draped gently over a shoulder; dark mascara coating her lashes as she listened to some last minute instruction from McElhone.

Hazell was reportedly another popular Brit that was considered in the CWF’s recent oversea expansion, and given her jaw-dropping reveal it wasn’t hard to see why. The 37 year old London native was in immaculate shape; her sculpted midsection exposed in a pale pink, high-waisted thong and matching micro bikini top. Hazell’s heavy 32F bust tested the tensile strength of her tiny triangular bra, every bit as dangerous a JMD weapon as Debling’s pair. The brunette’s long locks were twisted into braided pigtails, a spring in her step as she made her first appearance of the year in either the FCBA or BBU.

Round 1:

With age and measurables just about a wash, the striking difference between the two in the opener was Debling’s punctuality when stringing together punches. Having spent a few months under The Federation’s tutelage, the blonde was starting to exhibit some of the spunk and promise their scouts had seen in her in the BBU. Bullying her way inside on Keeley, Debling immediately crash-tested the brunette’s airbags; pounding her hanging F-cups with a heart-stopping jab-hook-hook-STRAIGHT. Hazell gagged as she was bucked to her heels; whooshing a left over the Kent native’s head before the blonde plowed into her taut midsection with a bullish shoulder-charge into the near corner. The tangled pair were immediately broken up, but Debling was right back on; walking Keeley down with a cross-jab-jab that snapped against her gloves. A gutting hook to the brunette’s navel scooped out her belly, a tit-thumping one-two shaking her rack; uppercut-uppercut clacking her teeth before a MEATY left pierced her swelling bust. It didn’t take long for Hazell to find herself in deep waters, as the blonde dominates the opener 10-8.

Round 2:

Hazell had an impressive reach for someone just a shade over 5’6, and after being swarmed in the opener she put it to good use. A quick thwart to the blonde’s bulldog aggression was a sharp jab to the lips; Debling’s smokey eyelashes fluttering as she wobbled somewhat bow-legged on her heels. A crabby pincer combo from Melissa fell short of Keeley’s abdomen, the brunette catching her in the middle of no-man’s land with a FEROCIOUS overhand right that clubbed the center of her sternum. Debling gutturally grunt as her weighty rack shook, trampolined into the rubber while cradling her bust with both arms. Hazell kept a moat around her while flaunting her reach; volleying with distant jabs and hooks as Melissa shrugged up against the ropes. The blonde’s chest quaked as Hazell chugged a nasty hook-straight-hook that pierced her G-cups; a bladed left carving a chunk out of her hip, a concussive right-right rattling her temple. McElhone was climbing the middle rope to beg Debling to get off them, the blonde finally two-hand shoving Keeley back to center ring and escaping the phone booth. Debling snarled as the last ten seconds rang out, hiking up her sagging bandeau top and conceding the remainder of the round. Hazell quickly back to level, 10-8.

Round 3/4:

Keeley was right back in the cockpit after a quick break; opening up her repertoire and SHELLING the blonde who was stuck in quicksand. Leading with a balletic, pre-meditated combo, Hazell dipped low in her approach and sliced a hook through the waistband of Debling’s thong; sliding around the blonde’s messy retort and slamming a buckling one-two-three up her curvy frame. Debling heaved as the leading uppercut sunk into her belly button, the trailing overhand pancaking her left breast flat to her sternum; sloshing to her heels before the finale cracked against the bottom of her chin. The blonde misted a mouthful of crimson drool as her neck snapped straight back, hoarsely mewling as her arms pinwheeled and she floundered into the corner post. An armpit hooking the top rope kept her from crumbling all the way down, her legs gracelessly sliding into a full-split as Hazell pushed to tenderize her prey. 

Debling pedaled her heels to try and push more upright, ducking behind her forearms as Keeley rushed and STAMPED a heartless running overhand into her bust; the blonde exploding with a full-throated wail as her spine rattled the post and slid further down. Hazell scooped one, two, three, FOUR shovel-uppercuts into the underside of the blonde’s heavy rack; each bouncing her titanic bust until Debling finally had enough and slammed down on the brunette’s wrists to break her rhythm. Melissa clumsily fell forward and breathlessly tied Keeley up; hugging as tight as she could and riding the brunette through her attempts to free herself. The last thirty were a graceless slow-dance, Debling narrowly limping to the finish line and earning her stool.

Keeley was fully in her bag, looking like a completely new fighter despite years having gone by since her last win. The brunette added another point to her lead in the fourth, continuing to plaster the answerless blonde in a shocking three-round run. After 10-8 and 10-9 rounds, Hazell finds herself running away with this fight.

Round 5/6:

Melissa looked nothing like the fighter that had downed Cougar Title holder, Tina Louise just a month ago. Then again, the blonde had yet to go past round four in ANY of her fights with the CWF. As backwards as it might sound, McElhone likely wanted to see what the Brit was made of; even if it meant Keeley continued to dichotomize her fighter. A flash of heart from the cornered blonde in the fifth saw her end Hazell’s winning run, clawing back with a 10-9 effort even if it was mostly stagnant.

The last time Debling went into the sixth was 2017, a loss, so the blonde would need to exercise her demons in this bout. Hazell, to her credit, had been rock solid defensively; continuing to wall off Debling any time she tried to bully her way in tight. Trying to manufacture a way to free her dangerous right hand, Debling went the catty route; extending a groping left palm toward Keeley’s scantly-clad bust. Hazell swatted at Melissa’s bait, increasingly annoyed as Debling grabbed and pawed at her bikini top. Finally Hazell thoughtlessly snapped back, dropping her guard and clawing a fadeaway left across Melissa’s chest just as the blonde came over the top of her foxhole. Taking a rake across the rack to make a play, Debling EXPLODED through Hazell’s chin with a cocky right; bludgeoning the brunette’s jaw with an electrified overhand. BANG, Hazell goes down with ONE SHOT.

1… 2… 3… The wide-eyed brunette awkwardly sprawled to her ass and skid to a stop against the ropes; hands bracing her fall as she tried to comprehend how that bolt of lightning found her chin. Keeley took an extra second to steady her involuntary teeter, looking up at a preening Debling with a mystified expression of shock. Hazell was right back up by four, seemingly refusing to believe how quickly her dominance had been flipped on its head. The brunette had barely found her feet before Melissa was in her grill once again, flinging rhythmless rights and lefts up and down her frame. Left to the hip, right to the clavicles, hook-hook to the bust, uppercut to the jaw. The brunette rocked into the ropes as her bulbs bulged, her thighs jellying as Debling drummed her winded abdomen from both sides. Puncturing hook to the tits, blade through the navel, temple-cheek-chin; Hazell’s graceless frame was pitching in the wind before finally the official dove in to drag Debling off. IT’S ALL OVER!!

"And your winner, by TKO in Round 6, MELISSSSSAAAAA DEBBBBBLINGGG!!!!"

Post Fight:

Keeley exhaustedly fell to her knees just after Debling was hauled off for the TKO; narrowly avoiding a second knockdown but still in a horrendous spot given the post-match circumstances. The blonde’s gloves were thrown to the mat almost instantly; Hazell trying to fidget out of her own before Melissa came back to pounce. A quick shove to the brunette’s shoulders to put Keeley on her back resulted in a sloppy 1-count from Debling; Hazell kicking out defiantly before the blonde gained much in the way of momentum. Both scurried to their feet, Debling’s enormous G-cups having started to spill out the bottom of her increasingly displaced bandeau top. A sudden rush by the blonde and Keeley slid by, allowing Melissa to drunkenly slam into the ropes at her side, missing her clothesline attempt. There was a fleshy THWACK as Keeley spun Debling around by the shoulder and HAMMERED a vicious forearm across her bust; the blonde barking as her tits quaked with aftershocks. The brunette wanted more retribution; burying another hatchet into Debling’s pillowy bosom, then ANOTHER. Melissa wailed as she was sprawled over the top rope, her bandeau riding up around her clavicles as her golden orbs fell out the bottom. Hooking the blonde beneath the armpit, Hazell spun her around and flattened her rack against the ropes; the blonde’s naked, tear-dropping chest mushrooming against the cutting rubber as their combined weight sandwiched Debling.

Debling whimpered as the suddenly domineering brunette thrust into her from behind, grating her pelvis against Melissa’s plump, perked ass. Goosebumps formed on the blonde’s thigh as Keeley traced her hand around her plump hip; Melissa’s legs attempting to pinch together before being insatiably pried apart. Suddenly the blonde shrieked as Keeley bunched the biting material of her thong and YANKED straight back, tearing the thin material into her slit and fraying the delicate string crotch. Before Debling could let out another guttural howl, Keeley grabbed the blonde around the hips and VAULTED backwards; flipping Melissa over her head and SPIKING the blonde’s skull against the mat with a brutal German Suplex. Melissa’s plump frame sickeningly SNAPPED at the waist, her limbs flailing in every direction and hammering the mat as she was folded in half in a split second. The blonde kissed her knees before her broken frame snapped back into place, her bare ass spread and perked skyward, her thick stems jiggling and hanging in a lewd, unnatural split.

Rolls of flesh formed on the curvy blonde’s belly as Keeley stacked a gratuitous bridge-pin on her suplex; keeping the shattered blonde folded on her back as she squeezed a 3-count out of the athletic maneuver. Debling’s thighs spread into a deep split, the biting spandex of her shredded bottoms pinching between her plump lips for just a second before fluttering off completely, leaving her totally bottomless. Her massive, freed orbs quaked with violent, swelling pants; her crumpled frame convulsing with unconscious spasms until she was allowed to sprawl out of the pin and flounder to her stomach.