The lights in the arena dimmed, and the raucous crowd grew silent with anticipation. At opposite ends of the ring stood Mila Kunis and Debra Jo Rupp, their eyes locked, both steeling themselves for the no-rules pro-wrestling match. This was the second qualifier for the number eight spot in the AGW Ring Queen Tournament. The stakes were high, and the atmosphere was electric. The first match had seen Christina Ricci emerge victorious against Amy Adams, and now it was time for Mila and Debra to prove their mettle. The bell rang, and with it, the tension in the arena reached a fever pitch.
With a wry smile on her face, Debra Jo Rupp glanced across the ring at Mila Kunis. "Well, well, well," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Whoever put together this little soiree must have a wicked sense of humor. Pitting two former costars against each other? I can see the headlines now: 'That '70s Show Throwdown.'" Debra chuckled to herself, but her eyes remained sharp and focused on her opponent. "Let's give them a show they won't forget, shall we, Mila?"
Mila Kunis grinned, her confidence unwavering as she met Debra's gaze. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Debra," she replied coolly. "This is just business, after all. But don't worry, I'll try to make it as painless as possible when I stomp you into the mat." She raised an eyebrow, her playful demeanor masking the fierce determination that burned within her. "I hope you're ready for a fight because I'm not holding back."
The playful banter had faded away, leaving behind a tense silence that hung heavy in the air. Mila and Debra, now nose-to-nose, were locked in a fierce staredown, their faces mere inches apart. The proximity only served to amplify the palpable animosity between them, their previous camaraderie replaced by a burning desire to tear each other apart. They were no longer the actresses who had shared a set on That '70s Show—now, they were fierce competitors with a singular focus: to emerge victorious and secure their place in the Ring Queen Tournament. The bell sounded once more, signaling the start of the match, and with it, the gloves came off.
Mila and Debra clashed in the center of the ring, their foreheads pressed together as they each struggled to gain the upper hand. Mila, her confidence bordering on cockiness, decided to goad her opponent. "You know, Debra," she taunted, a smirk playing on her lips, "I could probably just push you down and win this thing. After all, you're not exactly a spring chicken anymore." But before she could even finish the sentence, Mila felt a searing pain across her cheek—Debra had delivered a fierce slap, the hardest Mila had ever experienced. The force of it nearly knocked her off balance, and she stumbled backward, her hand instinctively rising to touch the stinging skin.
Still reeling from the first slap, Mila tried to regain her composure. But Debra was relentless, and before Mila could even process what had happened, she saw Debra's other hand flying toward her face. The second slap landed with a resounding crack, connecting with the unprotected side of Mila's face. The pain was immediate and intense, and Mila let out a gasp of surprise and pain. The crowd erupted, their excitement palpable as they watched Debra take control of the match. Mila's head spun from the physical pain and the shock of Debra's unexpected ferocity.
The force of the second slap sent Mila backward into the ropes, which strained against her weight as she struggled to maintain her balance. In a desperate attempt to regain the advantage, Mila threw a wild, uncoordinated slap toward Debra. But her movements were sluggish, and Debra intercepted the blow. A triumphant smirk crossed Debra's face as she seized Mila's hand, her fingers digging into the soft flesh. Mila let out a pained mewl, followed by a piercing scream as Debra sunk her teeth into Mila's hand, the sharp pain mingling with the stinging sensation from the slaps. The crowd roared with approval, reveling in the unexpected turn of events as Mila found herself at the mercy of her underestimated opponent.
The combination of pain and shock was overwhelming, and Mila collapsed to her knees. Debra sensing her advantage, seized Mila's jaw with a firm grip, her fingers digging into the younger woman's cheeks. Debra jiggled Mila's jaw back and forth, a mocking gesture that seemed more befitting of a playful grandmother than a fierce competitor in a no-rules wrestling match. "Oh, poor Mila," Debra taunted, adopting the familiar tone of her iconic character, Kitty Foreman. "Did you think you could beat me? I may be older, but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve!" The crowd erupted in cheers, reveling in the surreal sight of Debra Jo Rupp dominating her former co-star with ruthlessness and playful nostalgia.
Despite the throbbing pain in her hand and jaw, Mila mustered up the strength to retort. "You know, Debra," she spit out, her voice dripping with venom, "you look like a grandma with that body in that bikini you're wearing. The crowd, their amusement giving way to tense anticipation as they waited to see how Debra would respond to Mila's cutting insult; Debra's grip on Mila's jaw tightened momentarily, her eyes narrowing as she processed the jab.
Debra was unfazed by Mila's attempt to rattle her. She used the younger woman's words as fuel, tightening her grip and pulling Mila to her feet with a strength that belied her age. Mila stood, her face contorted in pain; Debra wrapped her arms around her, just beneath her ass, and pulled her close. "Gravity will get you too, one day, sweetheart," she hissed into Mila's ear.
Debra shoved Mila over the ropes, sending her tumbling to the mat below with a resounding thud and the crowd roared, a mix of cheers and gasps echoing through the arena as Mila's body lay sprawled on the canvas, the wind knocked out of her.
As Mila fell to the mat with a satisfying thud, Debra couldn't help but let out a triumphant smirk, "Or now," she quipped, her voice dripping with satisfaction. The crowd cheered in response, recognizing the clever play on words and reveling in the unexpected turn of events. Debra basked in the moment, taking a few triumphant steps around the ring, soaking in the adulation of the fans who had once doubted her.
As she watched Mila roll under the ring, she was aware of this classic wrestling trick—a desperate attempt to catch an opponent off guard and deliver a cheap shot.
But Debra was too savvy to fall for such a ploy. Instead, she made her way to the top turnbuckle, sitting atop it like a queen on her throne. From her elevated vantage point, she surveyed the ring, her eagle-eyed gaze scanning for any sign of Mila's emergence. She was determined to be one step ahead, ready to pounce on her opponent when she finally revealed herself.
Mila emerged from under the ring, her body tense and wary. Her eyes darted around the arena, searching for any sign of her opponent. It didn't take long for her to spot Debra, perched atop the turnbuckle with a smug expression on her face, beckoning Mila with a single finger, a silent challenge that hung heavy in the air.
Mila hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, before slowly and cautiously crawling back into the ring. She was acutely aware of Debra's advantage, the older woman's experience and cunning having caught her off guard more than once already but Mila was not one to back down from a challenge, and she steeled herself for the fight ahead, her eyes locked on Debra's as she reentered the ring.
As Mila reentered the ring, Debra descended from her perch, a glint of anticipation in her eye. The tables had turned—now it was Mila beckoning her for another collar-elbow tie-up, a bold move that spoke volumes of her determination. Debra approached cautiously, knowing that Mila was likely to have a few tricks of her own. The two women circled each other, their bodies taut with tension as they prepared to engage again. The crowd leaned in, eager to see how this latest confrontation would play out, as Debra and Mila locked eyes, each searching for any sign of weakness in the other
The two women locked up, their muscles straining against each other as they vied for control. But just as quickly as it had begun, Mila abruptly broke the hold, using her momentum to deliver a powerful shove that sent Debra backward. Debra let out a shriek as her face collided with Mila's outstretched hand, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through her head. Debra lashed out, kicking wildly to free herself from Mila's grasp. Finally breaking away, she fell to her knees, her hands cradling her throbbing face. The crowd watched, perplexed, as Mila turned to face them, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.
It was clear that she had done something, but what?
As Debra crawled on her knees, her vision obscured by the searing pain in her face, Mila seized the opportunity to gloat.
She raised her hand high, gesturing to the crowd with a knowing smirk. It was as if she was saying, "That's right, folks. I rubbed something on my hands that I found under the ring—a little gift to help me turn the tide of this match." The crowd gasped, their shock and disbelief palpable as they realized the extent of Mila's cunning. She had been willing to resort to underhanded tactics, stooping to new lows in her quest for victory.
Mila approached Debra, her stride confident and purposeful. The older woman had crawled into a corner, still reeling from the effects of Mila's dirty trick; Mila grabbed Debra's hands, pulling them away from her face to expose her vulnerable, reddened eyes.
With a malicious gleam in her own eyes, Mila began to rub her hand into Debra's eyes once again, digging her fingers in and grinding her palm against the sensitive flesh.
Debra let out a piercing scream, the pain unbearable as Mila continued her ruthless assault, determined to capitalize on her opponent's weakness and secure the win at any cost.
As Mila stood over the blinded and injured Debra, a smug sense of satisfaction washed over her.
The older woman, writhing in pain, began to hurl a barrage of obscenities at Mila, her words laced with fury and desperation. "You conniving, treacherous little bitch!" Debra spat, her voice hoarse with rage. "I'll make you pay for this"
But Mila simply smiled, undeterred by Debra's threats.
She continued to examine her handiwork with a detached curiosity, admiring the damage she had inflicted on her opponent. "You should have known better than to underestimate me, Debra," Mila purred, her voice dripping with malice.
With a cruel laugh, Mila thrust her hands into Debra's eyes once more, pressing the pads of her fingers deep into the sockets and eliciting a fresh wave of agony.
Debra reduced to a sobbing, helpless mess in the corner of the ring, was powerless to defend herself against Mila's relentless assault.
Seizing the opportunity to add insult to injury, Mila reached under the ring and retrieved the bottle of rubbing alcohol that she had used to gain the upper hand. She held it aloft for the crowd to see, a wicked grin on her face as she reveled in her deviousness. "You see, Debra?" Mila taunted.
The crowd was a cacophony of noise, with some screaming in horror and others cheering with twisted excitement.
Mila, undeterred by the chaos, stood over Debra once more, her eyes gleaming with malice as she unscrewed the cap of the rubbing alcohol bottle; a careless flick of her wrist, Mila tossed the cap at Debra as though she were discarding a piece of trash, a gesture that only served to highlight her complete disdain for her opponent; without hesitation, Mila began to pour the stinging liquid all over Debra's body, drenching her from head to toe.
Debra writhed in agony as the alcohol seeped into her wounds, the searing pain mingling with her tears and cries for mercy.
As the rubbing alcohol soaked into her skin, Debra's body convulsed in agony and she coughed and sputtered, her face twisted into a mask of pain as the pungent liquid invaded her mouth and trickled down her throat; The burning sensation was almost unbearable, and Debra let out a hiss of pure rage. "You vile, wretched creature!" she spat, her voice ragged with pain. "I'll make you regret this, I swear it!" Despite her obvious suffering, Debra's words dripped with venom.
Mila, undeterred by Debra's threats, took hold of her opponent's jaw with an iron grip. In a cruel twist of fate, she forced Debra's mouth open and poured a stream of rubbing alcohol down her throat. Debra choked and gagged, her body trembling as she struggled to process the overwhelming sensations of pain and humiliation. As the last drops of alcohol trickled down Debra's chin, Mila tossed the now-empty bottle at her fallen opponent, the plastic container bouncing off her chest and clattering to the mat. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Mila stood over Debra, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. It was a scene of utter domination, a ruthless display of power that left no doubt as to who held the upper hand in this brutal match.
Despite the brutality she had already inflicted, Mila's appetite for destruction was far from done. She exited the ring, leaving Debra a crumpled, sobbing mess on the canvas, and retrieved a table from beneath the apron. The sight of the table elicited a roar from the crowd, who were well-versed in the potential carnage it represented. With a knowing smirk, Mila slid the table into the ring and set it up in the center, the wooden surface gleaming under the harsh arena lights. Debra, still reeling from the assault, offered little resistance as Mila dragged her toward the table, her eyes wide with fear as she realized what was about to happen.
Mila lifted Debra's limp body and hurled her onto the table, the impact reverberating through the arena. The older woman lay prone on the wooden surface, her breathing shallow and her eyes glassy. The crowd, despite their bloodlust, couldn't help but wonder why Mila was prolonging the match when she could have easily pinned Debra and moved on to the next round. But Mila was not one to be rushed; She wanted to savor her victory, to make sure Debra understood the true extent of her defeat. So, before climbing to the top rope, Mila unleashed a flurry of strikes to Debra's face, each blow landing with a sickening thud. It wasn't until Debra went limp, that Mila was ready for the final blow.
Just as Mila was about to ascend the turnbuckle, she paused to bask in the adulation. She turned, her chest puffed out with pride, to soak in the roar of approval from the fans. But her triumph was short-lived, as Debra, sprang to life. With a feral snarl, she grabbed Mila's bikini top in her teeth, the fabric tearing as she sank her incisors deep into Mila's flesh. Mila let out a shocked cry, her smug expression replaced by a mask of pain. Debra, fueled by desperation and adrenaline, pulled Mila onto the table, their bodies entangled as she clung to her opponent's flesh with a vicelike grip. The crowd gasped, anticipation reaching a fever pitch as they watched the tide turn again.
Trapped in Debra's iron grip, Mila thrashed and writhed like a cornered animal, her screams mingling with Debra's guttural growls. Despite the pain and humiliation she had endured, Debra refused to relinquish her hold, her fingers digging into Mila's waist with fierce determination. In a desperate bid for freedom, Mila clawed at Debra's arms and shoulders, her nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. But Debra was undeterred, her grip only tightening as she used her body weight to roll them both off the table. The two women crashed to the mat in a tangle of limbs, their grunts and groans echoing through the arena as they continued to struggle.
Debra's jaws remained locked around Mila's flesh, her teeth sunk deep as she stubbornly refused to release her bite. Meanwhile, her arms encircled Mila's waist like a vise, holding the younger woman in place despite her increasingly violent attempts to break free. As Debra stumbled towards the turnbuckle, dragging Mila along with her, it was as though she were a stubborn pit bull as her jaws clamped firmly on her prey. Mila, for her part, fought like a spoiled teenager at her disappointing sweet 16; then her tantrum escalated to a level that would make that spoiled child feel bad Debra remained undeterred as she began to climb the turnbuckle, Mila still thrashing in her grasp.
As Debra perched atop the turnbuckle, facing the table below, the realization of what was about to happen dawned on Mila and the crowd. Mila's eyes widened in fear. "No, no, please," she whimpered, her voice trembling as she pleaded with Debra to show mercy.
Her struggles grew more frantic, her limbs flailing in a last-ditch attempt to break free. But Debra remained unmoved, her expression stony as she tightened her grip on Mila's waist. The crowd watched in anticipation. They knew that what was about to happen would be brutal and that Mila was about to experience a whole new level of pain.
As Debra prepared to leap from the turnbuckle, her demeanor, gone was the hardened wrestler; in her place was the playful, taunting Kitty, reveling in her opponent's fear, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Looks like the kitty's got you right where she wants you. With that, Debra launched herself into the air, her body arcing gracefully as she sailed towards the table below. The crowd erupted, rising to their feet in anticipation of the impending impact. But as Debra crashed into Mila, driving her body into the wooden surface, something unexpected happened. Instead of splintering beneath their combined weight, the table held firm. For a moment, the arena was silent, the stunned crowd trying to process what they had just witnessed.
The sound echoed through the arena, a hollow, sickening thud that seemed to reverberate to the cheap seats. The crowd gasped in unison, their collective breath held as they watched Mila's body crumple beneath Debra's, her back cracking and popping as her head jerked back violently. Debra, meanwhile, was a victim of her momentum as her body propelled forward like a human projectile; she flew off the table and crash-landed on the other side. For a brief moment, both women lay still, their bodies battered and broken.
The jumbo tron zoomed in on the carnage, providing a bird's-eye view of the destruction below. Debra and Mila sprawled across the mat, their limbs splayed at awkward angles as they remained motionless. It was a gruesome sight, but one that the crowd devoured with enthusiasm. After all, they had come to see a fight, and they were getting their money's worth and then some. As the seconds ticked by and neither woman stirred, the cheers grew louder. They wanted more.
Debra was the first to stir, her body twitching as she fought to regain control of her senses. Every inch of her ached, from her throbbing head to her battered limbs, and her vision swam as though she were trapped on an out-of-control carnival ride. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Debra reached out, her fingers closing around Mila's hair. She used it as a makeshift rope, pulling herself up, her legs trembling beneath her. And as she finally regained her footing, Debra couldn't resist giving Mila's hair one last, disrespectful yank, a final act of contempt. It didn't matter that Mila was unconscious, that she couldn't feel the pain of Debra's final insult. This was about more than just winning; it was about sending a message and establishing dominance.
Debra couldn't shake the feeling of frustration that gnawed at her. She had been so close to putting Mila through that table, to delivering the ultimate humiliation in front of the roaring crowd. Instead, she had been thwarted, the table proving more resilient than she had anticipated. While the match was still in her favor, Debra couldn't help but feel that she had been cheated of a certain satisfaction, a cathartic release of all the pent-up anger and animosity that had built up throughout the fight. It was a small, almost petty feeling, but one that lingered in the back of her mind as she stood over Mila's unconscious form, her body bruised and battered.
The crowd could sense the simmering anger that radiated from Debra. They knew that her frustration wasn't just about the table, but about the larger insult that Mila had inflicted upon her, the humiliating and dangerous use of rubbing alcohol to gain the upper hand. It was an assault that had left Debra exposed and vulnerable. As she stood there, surveying the damage, the crowd could see that Debra was still pissed.
With a wicked glint in her eye, Debra scanned the crowd, her gaze falling upon the various cups and glasses that the fans held. It was as though a lightbulb had gone off in her head, a sudden burst of inspiration that fueled her already-simmering rage. Snatching up drinks from the surprised fans, she returned to Mila's limp form, her smile growing wider with each step. She began to pour the beverages over Mila's body, the liquid soaking her bikini and dripping down onto the table below. It wasn't the same as the rubbing alcohol, but it was close enough for Debra's purposes. This was her way of returning the favor.
Seemingly determined to inflict every ounce of pain and humiliation upon Mila that she possibly could, Debra grabbed a fistful of her opponent's hair and dragged her unceremoniously off the table. The crowd watched in awe as Mila's hair stretched and pulled yet somehow remained attached to her scalp. It was as though Debra was testing the very limits of what Mila could endure. As they reached the center of the ring, Debra wasted no time in delivering one final insult. With a savage rip, she tore Mila's bikini top from her body, exposing her breasts to the leering eyes of the crowd. Not content to simply leave her opponent exposed, Debra drove her bare foot down onto one of Mila's tit, eliciting a choked gasp of pain. And with that, Debra tossed the bikini top at Mila's prone form, a final act of contempt before the referee counted to three and declared her the winner.
Exhaustion and frustration mingled on Debra's face as she straddled Mila's unconscious body. "I wish you were awake to see this," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "To see that I'm the one moving on, and you're the one left broken."
But even in her moment of triumph, Debra couldn't shake the sense of disappointment that Mila was unable to witness her beating. It was an insult that only fueled Debra's anger. With a growl, she unleashed a flurry of slaps, alternating between forehand and backhand blows that landed with satisfying smacks against Mila's already bruised cheeks. It was a way to release the pent-up fury that had been simmering within her throughout the match.
1. Christina Ricci.
8. Upcoming
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2. Debra Jo
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