Lynda Carter
Morgan FairchildHere's an outstanding tale from my friend the Amateur, featuring two of my favorite ladies from the 70s. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I do!
LYNDA CARTER vs MORGAN FAIRCHILD
by the AmateurWhen the match was first announced, the majority thought it would be a cinch forLynda Carter – and rightly so. She was bigger, heavier and 5 inches taller than Morgan Fairchild and she was a year younger to boot. Add to that her unmarred fighting record throughout the mid and late 70's and early 80’s which had cemented her place as the undisputed Queen of femfighting and it certainly stood to reason that everyone would write the blonde off even before the fight had started.
Everyone but Morgan herself that is.
There was a reason why she was the number one contender for Carter's title. She was no less experienced a fighter than the brunette, and she too was undefeated so far and this alone gave her the confidence to face Carter without any fear. She was aware that Lynda had the physical strength advantage, but she was not overly worried about that. She was convinced that she was much quicker than Carter and even more skilled and she believed that this would more than compensate for the brunette's raw power. Also this being a NHB apartment catfight as opposed to a regulated wrestling match, she felt that she had an extra trick or two up her proverbial (they were to fight topless) sleeve that would allow her to overcome Carter and take the brunette’s title away from her.
* * *The opening moments of the fight provided a surprise (to say the least) for those expecting a one-sided win for Lynda – and that was pretty much everybody. Feeling somewhat complacent and vastly underestimating her smaller opponent, Lynda made a bit of a leisurely start, which was a mistake. Morgan did indeed prove to be faster than the brunette and, just as she had planned, used her speed and extensive skills to dance around Carter, peppering the Champ with lightning-fast blows from a distance and keeping her at bay.
Angered and hurt by this rather rough treatment, Lynda tried to put a stop to it by moving in and getting a hold of her nimble foe, but this proved easier said – or thought – than done. Dodging and weaving, Fairchild successfully eluded Carter’s grasping hands and continued to hammer the brunette, her fists landing onto the bigger woman’s voluptuous frame with meaty thuds. Understandably frustrated and with all sort of advice and encouragement being shouted at her from ardent admirers, Lynda now shifted up a gear, finally bringing her “A” game. It did take her quite a few attempts, but in the end she managed to close in on her foe and take her down.
Once the battle had moved down to the floor, order finally appeared to be restored to the Universe, with Lynda’s size coming into play, allowing the brunette to gain the upper hand. The sound of Morgan’s gasps and groans quickly filled the room as Lynda’s powerful limbs began to squeeze Fairchild’s slim body, trapping the squirming blonde in one excruciating hold after another. Outmuscled and in pain, Morgan did her best to fight back, but she just seemed to have no answer for Carter’s raw power and grappling skills and continued to feel the wrath of the Champion.
But if anyone thought that this was the end of it, they were
very much mistaken.
Even though she was overwhelmed by Lynda’s strength, Morgan had no intentions of quitting. The blonde knew this was her best opportunity to finally claim the title which she felt she so richly deserved and she was not about to let her dream go without a fight. She struggled with all her might against her stronger foe and while she was not able to turn the tide, at least she managed to prevent Carter from finishing her. With Morgan still very much in the fight, even if on the back foot, Lynda now went all out, determined on decimating the stubborn blonde who had dared oppose her rule.
But, try as she might, the brunette just could not put the smaller foe down. Or rather, she could put her down, she just could not hold her there. Determined not to give up, Morgan twisted and bucked and kicked with gritty defiance and with such intensity that it was impossible even for the powerhouse Carter to keep the feisty blonde under control.
This went for what seemed an eternity and the longer the struggle continued, the harder it was becoming for Lynda to contain her opponent. At this point the heat of battle had caused the two women’s bodies to become slick with sweat and it was that very slipperiness that aided the blonde greatly in her efforts to escape her opponent’s clutches. Still unable to effectively end Morgan’s challenge, Lynda now revealed what appeared to be the chink in her armor by once again showing signs of frustration. Which was understandable. She knew she was stronger and better than her rival; she knew this fight was hers for the taking and yet she was unable to take it. This incensed her and it also clouded her judgment when it came to tactics. Snarling and cursing, she now seemed to be focusing all her thoughts and energy into the singular purpose of pinning the blonde down. Why she was so hell-bent on doing this was something only she herself knew. On the other side, Morgan was focusing all her thoughts and energy into the singular purpose of thwarting all of Carter’s attempts – so far successfully.
Minute after minute of what was undoubtedly one of the most fierce and intense female fights anyone had ever witnessed passed by. Each beauty was pushing herself to the limit and beyond in her efforts to overcome her rival. Groans, grunts and screams of effort and rage and pain rent the air as the two glistening bodies heaved and twisted, straining against each other in a titanic struggle for supremacy, neither one giving any quarter. And still the outcome of the fight remained shrouded in doubt, with even the most adventurous of pundits now speculating, rather than knowing. The smart money – the most money – was still on Lynda, who still appeared to have the edge, her size and strength allowing her to dictate the events for the most part. However, Morgan’s tenacity and spirit had won the blonde a few backers more than she had had prior to the match. The change began to happen around the forty minute mark. It was almost imperceptible at first, but as time dragged further on, the spectators could see more and more clearly what ultimately became a single undisputable fact.
Lynda Carter was tiring. With the intensity of the fight showing no signs of abating, it was now obvious that the bigger brunette was wearing down at a much faster rate than her golden-haired opponent. This allowed Morgan to regain the initiative and once again go on the offensive.
Shocked by the turning of the tables, the spectators watched in disbelief as Fairchild really stuck it to the Champ, intent on paying Carter back for her erstwhile suffering at the hands of the brunette. Determined not to let her foe get the better of her, Lynda tried to mount a counter-attack, but Morgan had the bit between her teeth now. Seeing her chance, the blonde decided it was time to pull out all the stops.
It presently became clear why Fairchild had insisted on a topless no-holds-barred fight as she began to assault Carter's ample assets with ever increasing frequency and force. The attacks on her vulnerable breasts caused a great deal of pain for the brunette and also forced her to abandon any thought of a counter-charge and go completely on the defensive for the first time in the fight.
Now in complete control, Fairchild was all over Carter, pounding the big brunette with a vengeance. Unlike Lynda earlier, the blonde showed absolutely no desire to hold her opponent down. She knew this was practically impossible for the moment and she was not about to waste her time and strength in trying to do it. Instead, she opted for a more circuitous route to what she was now certain would be her victory. What she needed to do, she figured, was to exhaust her larger opponent even more.
Also hurt her. Really, really hurt her. Lynda’s shrieks of pain reverberated around the penthouse as a dominant and pitiless Morgan stepped up the level of torture – a torture that was not about to end soon either, if Fairchild had her say about it.
Fighting fist , tooth and nail, Morgan opened her huge bag of tricks to assault every inch of Lynda’s voluptuous frame and she did so with real gusto. Eyes, throat, breasts, belly, crotch – they all endured the same callous treatment, along with pretty much every other part of Carter’s body. A series of Armlocks and Leglocks had Lynda’s limbs almost numb with pain. Which led to the brunette’s spine being the topmost thing on Fairchild’s agenda. Several hard knees to the small of Lynda’s back were just a prelude to the Bow and Arrow hold which the blonde locked Carter in.
The brunette was screeching like a banshee, but stubbornly refused to give up and now it was Morgan’s turn to feel frustration setting in. Fairchild vented some of that frustration by snapping a Head-Scissors on her beleaguered foe. The blonde’s slender, deceptively strong legs squeezed the brunette’s head with force that threatened to crack Carter’s skull open.
A howling Lynda thrashed the room to bits in her efforts to break free. She eventually managed to do so, but at the expense of a huge portion of her remaining energy.
Fairchild, who, in addition to her finely honed fighting skills and vast arsenal of dirty moves, seemed to also possess a virtually limitless stamina, quickly pounced on the gasping, moaning Lynda and rolled her over on her back, straddling her.
This was the first time Carter had ever been pinned and she reacted as if a red hot poker had been applied to one of the more sensitive parts of her anatomy. Screaming in anger, her blue eyes blazing she heaved and kicked and twisted, bucking like a wild bronco, every fiber in her shapely, powerful body straining to throw the other woman off of her. It was no good. The blonde Texan beauty remained firmly on top, expertly riding down her thrashing rival’s struggles and adding to Carter’s discomfort by periodically slapping her across the face. “What’s the matter, Wonder Woman?” Morgan asked with a smirk, looking down at Lynda’s reddened, contorted face. “Not so big and bad now, are we?”
Enraged even further by her rival’s conceit and feeling her precious title slipping from her grasp, Lynda fought with the fury of a madwoman and at last, miraculously, managed to do the seemingly impossible and unseat Fairchild.
The brunette’s freedom cost her all but the last vestiges of her strength. It also proved short-lived as Morgan quickly recovered from her unexpected tumble and once again mounted Carter, pinning her down.
“You’re not goin’ anywhere!” the blonde told her weakly struggling opponent. “It’s all over! You’re finished! I’m the Queen now! Always will be!”
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Knowing that she was too weak to hope to throw the blonde off again, Lynda decided to instead throw the rule book out the window and fight her crafty, ruthless foe on equal terms. She realized this meant she would lose her squeaky-clean image, but she would much rather lose this than lose her crown.
Wasting no further time she latched onto Morgan’s right breast with one hand and mauled the supple flesh savagely, while using the manicured fingernails of her other hand to rake the blonde’s eyes. Rather unpleasantly surprised, Fairchild shrieked and squirmed atop her foe. She knew better than to play with fire, though, and quickly abandoned her no longer safe perch, rolling off of the brunette.
Agile as a cat, Morgan needed but a moment to spring to her feet, a cold, hard expression set on her face. By sharp contrast, Lynda pushed herself upright slowly and laboriously.
The women squared off, but they were hardly facing each other as equals now. One glance at them was enough for anyone to know how this would end. Even the biggest, most die-hard of Lynda’s fans now knew their previously considered invincible Champion was doomed. The two fighters’ eyes told them as much.
For the first time in her career there was doubt in Carter's azure eyes – doubt and perhaps some fear as well. There was none of these in Fairchild's own blue eyes, which showed nothing but steely determination.
Wasting no time, the blonde fired a few quick taunts at the brunette, accompanying those with a few quick body punches that further sapped Lynda’s already depleted strength. Seeing how unsteady her opponent was on her feet, Morgan now scrapped her plans to use her fists on Lynda’s face opting to go with open palms instead.
What followed were the longest and hardest few minutes in the lives of both Lynda and her supporters.
The good, solid, old-fashioned slaps sounded like pistol shots and each one was delivered with such force that it knocked the big brunette down. To her credit, Carter was always able to get back to her feet, but each time it took her longer than the previous and by the seventh knockdown she needed almost a full minute to get upright. When she finally did so, her legs were so wobbly that she actually had to lean into her opponent for support, her arms loosely draped around Morgan’s torso, her chin resting on the blonde’s left shoulder. Morgan accepted the “clinch” with a smug little smile and waited a good few seconds before driving her fist just below Lynda's solar plexus. Carter gave a stifled groan and sank to her knees, her face sliding between Morgan's bare breasts and coming to rest against the blonde's slick, flat belly.
Several unsuccessful attempts at getting up revealed the truth about Lynda: She was done. All she could do now was gasp for air, her solid, curvaceous body shuddering violently as she sought in vain for hidden reserves of strength.
Tangling her fingers in her rival’s damp tresses, Morgan now moved behind Lynda and pulled her head backwards, forcing Carter to sit down on her haunches. Lynda groaned and tried to struggle but it was useless. Morgan got down to one knee, still keeping Lynda’s neck twisted backwards and used her free hand to apply a Hammerlock on the hapless brunette.
“
A-ah! Let go!” Lynda groaned, squirming a little in her uncomfortable position.
Fairchild responded by slowly licking the entire length of the side of Carter’s face. “You’re mine now!” the blonde purred in the brunette’s ear. “You belong to me! Say it!”
“N-no!” Lynda yelled defiantly. Well, she hoped she was yelling defiantly. In reality, it was a lot closer to a whimper. “Let me go, you little bitch!”
“Say it!” Morgan insisted.
“
NO!” Lynda persisted, silently making a promise to herself that she would die before admitting defeat to anyone, let alone this uppity little blonde. Less than a minute later, she became what’s commonly known as “a liar”. She did not want to be one; she simply had no choice.
Still maintaining the Hammerlock, Morgan now let go of Lynda’s hair, reached around her body and got hold of the brunette’s left breast, twisting and pulling the sizable mound, digging her sharp claws deep into the pliant flesh. At the same time she cranked up the pressure on the Hammerlock, brutally twisting Carter’s bent arm behind her back, pushing the wrist higher and higher.
Unable to bear the thought of surrendering her Championship and ruining her undefeated record, Lynda held out for what she thought was a lifetime. Still, tough as she was, she too had her limits and she eventually reached them. It was clear to her that the brutal blonde bitch would not relent and, faced with the prospect of having either her arm ripped out of its socket, or her breast off of her chest (it felt like it was actually happening) she finally cracked. Her whole body aflame with pain, her strength gone, her fighting spirit crushed, Carter shrieked out her submission at the top of her lungs.
“Well, I guess that’s that!” Morgan said as she rose, panting and shaking all over. She did her best to keep a calm appearance, but it was not easy. She felt like jumping and screaming for joy in what was undoubtedly her greatest moment of triumph. Her dream was finally achieved; she had finally reached the pinnacleof her fighting career. Still undefeated, she was now Champ, the new Queen of the celebrity femfighting circuit, having defied all naysayers and conquered the “unbeatable” Lynda Carter.
“Just one thing left now,” Fairchild addressed her vanquished rival, who was still sitting on her haunches with her shoulders slumped in defeat “My title, bitch! Go fetch it!”
Alone amidst the ruins of her crumbled castle, Lynda was too preoccupied with her own misery to heed anyone or anything else. This prompted the blonde to use a foot to prod the brunette’s belly to get her attention and then repeat the command. Initially, Carter wanted to protest, but then she looked up into Fairchild’s eyes and what she saw there made her instantly forget all about any arguments.
As Lynda tried to rise, Morgan shook her head as she placed a hand on the brunette’s shoulder and pushed down. “Please, honey,” she said with a smile “I can see you’re all worn out. Don’t get up on my account!” The words were polite, but the blonde’s tone was laden with malice and danger and her eyes and smile were positively wintry. “You can do it on all-fours. In fact, I insist that you do! Go over there, bring me my belt and do it crawlin’ on your hands and knees!”
A beaten, broken Lynda dared not disobey the authority in Morgan’s voice. She tamely crawled over to where she had left the title belt before the match. She looked at it and tears began to well up in her eyes. She had carried and defended the piece of leather and gold it for so long she had come to consider it her private property. Now she realized she could no longer claim any ownership. Despite all her efforts, she had failed to keep it in her possession and now it belonged to another, better woman. The realization nearly made her weep as she began her long, humiliating crawl back to the blonde, dragging the belt along the floor.
Once she had reached Morgan, Lynda slowly lifted the title and presented it to the new Champ only to be met with a shake of the head.
“I want you to have the honors.” Fairchild said with a smile that was as arrogant as it was mean and then lifted her arms away from her body. “After all, it used to be yours all those years; you should know best how it works. We don’t wanna damage anything now, do we? So, be a good little girl and put it where it belongs!”
Already humbled beyond her worst nightmares and vaguely wondering if the ordeal would ever end, Lynda did as she was told, pushing herself upon her knees and wrapping the belt around the blonde’s slim waist. It took her quite a while to get it buckled with her trembling hands, but at long last she made it and that, as Morgan had said, was that.
The room seemed to become multiple times brighter now, flashes going off all over the place as cameras worked overtime, but those were hardly necessary. The image of a nearly naked, sweat-drenched Lynda Carter with her head hung low as she knelt in defeat before an equally undressed and sweaty but standing proud Morgan Fairchild would be indelibly imprinted onto the minds of all present.
Her triumph complete, the Championship belt securely around her waist, Fairchild now kicked Carter down onto her back and placed a foot on the brunette’s heaving chest, raising her arms in the air for her long dreamed of victory pose.
