Torrie stood in the center of the ring, soaking in the adulation of the packed arena. She flashed a radiant smile, which made her angelic face all the more beautiful, then blew a kiss to the audience.
It was time for the Monday Night Raw bikini contest.
For the moment, she was alone in the ring, dressed in a black satin kimono-style robe and a pair of black stiletto heels. The wrap covered the top half of her body but was short enough to leave her shapely, toned legs exposed. It was revealing enough in and of itself, but in a few minutes, she would remove the wrap to reveal the sexy bikini that she had on underneath. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach fluttering about.
As her entrance music faded, she stepped to the corner of the ring and waited for the other participants to be announced and make their entrance.
Suddenly, the arena was plunged into darkness. A stunned hush fell over the crowd.
A sinister guitar riff began playing over the arena’s loudspeakers. A thunderous rhythm section joined in, followed by demonic sounding vocals.
On the Titantron, a video montage of horrific scenery unfolded. Violent images of war and natural disasters filled the screen as the music built in intensity.
Torrie stared at the unsettling images, confused. This wasn’t the entrance package of anyone she recognized. She thought she knew everyone who was participating in the bikini contest. Was this a surprise entrant?
Before she could finish her thought, a shape appeared at the top of the entrance ramp. The arena was still dark enough that she couldn’t make out who it was, but the illumination of the Titantron provided enough light to reveal a large, hulking figure. Although she was far away, Torrie could see that the mystery person was at least 300 pounds, and was at least six feet tall.
The figure stood at the top of the ramp, unmoving, staring intently.
On the giant screen, the word MALICE appeared in bold letters, followed by THE DIVA BUTCHER.
Torrie felt a shiver run throughout her body. It suddenly felt as though the temperature in the building had dropped 30 degrees. Goosebumps broke out all over her exposed flesh. She hugged her arms close to her buxom body.
“Malice? The Diva Butcher?” wondered Torrie. “Who on earth was that?”
The figure began making its way toward the ring. The music reached a crescendo of pummeling drums and blistering guitars. It was horrible. Torrie felt like she was the unwilling star of some horror movie. She hated horror movies.
As Malice made her way down the ramp, Torrie realized that she was even bigger than she initially thought.
“My God,” thought Torrie. “She must be at least six and a half feet tall!”
Malice approached the ring. She reached her right arm up to the top rope and pulled herself up to the ring apron, then stepped OVER the top rope in one fluid motion.
Torrie felt herself back up instinctively. She was scared. The butterflies in her stomach had turned into a swarm of rumbling bees.
As Malice walked to the center of the ring, the lights came up and the audience finally got their first clear look at her. Their hushed silence turned to a collective gasp of awe and finally appreciation for her huge size and stature.
Malice was dressed from head to toe in black leather. Small metal studs covered her boots and gauntlets, forming a sort of armor. Black makeup had been applied around her eyes, or more accurately, smeared haphazardly, like warpaint. She glared directly into the hardcam with an expression of scorn and hatred.
She didn’t look like a Diva. She looked like a warrior sent from the depths of Hell.
Torrie, meanwhile, continued to watch from the corner of the ring. She noticed that the crowd had started chanting. At first, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but after a moment, it became clear.
“MALICE! MALICE! MALICE!”
Torrie felt a sting of betrayal. Only a moment ago, they had been cheering for her. Now, they were chanting the name of this...thing. She looked to the crowd with a wounded look on her face.
“What am I supposed to do?” she wondered. “Surely, Malice isn’t here for the bikini contest!”
As if on cue, a familiar face suddenly appeared on the Titantron.
It was Vince.
“Hello, Torrie,” he began. “I can tell by the perplexed look on your face that you’re confused.”
The crowd greeted Vince’s appearance with a chorus of boos and jeers.
“Well,” continued Vince. “Allow me to clear things up for you. You see, over the past few weeks, I’ve grown bored of you. I’ve decided I need a new toy.”
He grinned.
“So I went out and got one!”
Torrie stared in disbelief at Vince’s oversized visage on the Titantron.
“Allow me to introduce you to the latest addition to the WWE roster.” Vince’s voice rose to his signature growl. “I give you...MALICE! THE DIVA BUTCHER!”
Once again, the crowd began cheering.
Vince continued: “I’ve also decided to cancel the bikini contest. Instead, tonight on Raw, you will have a chance to prove yourself against Malice...IN A NO-HOLDS BARRED MATCH!”
The crowd’s cheers turned to a deafening roar.
Torrie shook her head. “No! No!” she pleaded. “Why are you doing this to me?” She felt so overwhelmed that she thought she might break down in tears.
Vince finished up: “And if you’re wondering if Malice lives up to her moniker, the Diva Butcher, let me assure you...she does. Good luck!”
With that, Vince’s face disappeared from the giant screen.
Torrie spun around just in time to catch a massive boot to the face from Malice. Despite her size, Malice moved with surprising quickness. The impact sent Torrie’s body crashing to the mat, almost knocking her unconscious, and sending her fuck-me pumps flying off of her feet in different directions.
The crowd roared its approval.
While all this was happening, a referee slid into the ring and signaled for the bell.
The match had begun.
Torrie lay there, writhing on the mat and cradling her aching head. Malice stood over the angelic diva’s fallen body and looked down on her with contempt. She dropped to her knees, straddling Torrie, and began raining fists down upon the diva’s comely body.
Torrie felt like her insides were being torn apart. Each blow felt like a sledgehammer. She cried out in agony as the strikes found their mark. The metal studs on Malice’s gauntlets only amplified the extraordinary pain.
“No! Please! Stop!” screamed Torrie. But her pleas fell on unsympathetic ears.
After several moments of her relentless assault, Malice ceased her opening salvo, then wrapped her gigantic hands around Torrie’s throat and squeezed.
Panicking, Torrie’s arms and legs flailed about. It was hard enough to think straight with this ogre of a woman on top of her, but with her oxygen supply cut off it became impossible. She clawed at Malice’s grip ineffectually. But the more Torrie struggled, the tighter Malice squeezed. The Butcher bore down, pressing all of her mammoth weight upon Torrie’s lithe body.
Torrie’s face began to turn a sickening plum color. Her eyes bulged and her mouth gasped for air like a fish out of water. She could feel her consciousness slipping away.
Finally, Malice released her vice-like grip. Torrie coughed and sputtered as air flooded her lungs.
Malice got back to her feet, then bent over and grabbed a fistful of Torrie’s golden blonde hair.
Torrie felt her herself being lifted to her feet. Still wearing her black silk robe, she stumbled about on unsteady legs.
Malice forced Torrie into the corner, then looped the diva’s arms around the top rope, positioning her defenseless body just as she wanted it.
Torrie had never been more afraid in her young life. She was trapped.
Malice reached out with her large hand and cupped Torrie’s frightened face.
“No, please,” begged Torrie. “You don’t have to do this!”
Malice hesitated, as if considering her plea. She began caressing Torrie’s cheek. Her touch was soft, gentle.
For a moment, Torrie thought she might have gotten through to her, that she would let her go out of pity.
But then Malice just laughed. A cruel, spiteful heckle of scorn. She pressed her face close to Torrie’s. Torrie felt Malice’s hot, rancid breath. She tried to pull away in disgust but Malice only pulled her in closer until there was less than an inch between them.
“You’re wrong, Torrie,” said Malice, speaking for the first time. Her voice was hoarse and gravelly. “I have no choice but to destroy you! For I am the Butcher of Divas. And you...are my prey!”
“Oh, God, no!” cried Torrie.
And with that, Malice leaned in further and licked her slimy tongue across Torrie’s anguished face.
The crowd went wild, cheering Malice on. They loved what they were seeing.
Torrie whimpered pathetically as she felt a trail of warm, rank saliva on her cheek. She tried to pull back but had nowhere to go.
“And now,” said Malice. “Let me unwrap my present!”
Malice stepped back and grabbed the sash of Torrie’s silky robe. She held it between her fingers, admiring the delicacy of the fabric.
“Don’t,” implored Torrie. “Please don’t do this!”
Slowly, Malice began pulling on the sash. As she did so, Torrie’s robe opened up, revealing the tiny two-piece leopard print bikini she was wearing underneath.
The crowd erupted. This is what they had paid to see.
Torrie had always been proud of her beautiful body. She loved showing it off, whether in the bedroom or in front of large crowds such as this.
But at this moment, she felt nothing but shame and humiliation. Never before had she felt so exposed and violated. She wanted to run and hide.
But she couldn’t. She was at the mercy of Malice.
And tonight, Malice had no mercy to spare.
As the robe continued opening, revealing more of Torrie’s toned, athletic physique, Malice stared in awe. The blonde diva’s body was beyond compare. Malice had never been so close to such beauty, such perfection.
Torrie’s magnificent tits threatened to spill out of the thin, flimsy fabric of her top. Her skimpy string bikini bottoms provided only minimal coverage and left very little to the imagination.
Malice leaned in and inhaled Torrie’s sweet fragrance. Her scent was intoxicating, and sent Malice into an almost rapturous reverie.
“My beautiful Torrie,” whispered Malice. “I can smell your cxnt!”
Torrie winced. “I’ll do anything you want me to,” she mewled.
“What I want, sweet Torrie,” replied Malice, “is to hear you scream!”
Malice grabbed the fabric of Torrie’s robe and in one quick motion tore it off of her body.
Torrie squealed in shock. Instinctively, she tried to cover her torso with her arms.
Malice wrapped both ends of the silk garment around her hands, then looped the fabric around Torrie’s neck and pulled the ends together, choking the air out of her.
Torrie, now wearing only her bikini top and bottoms, pawed desperately at the robe, trying uselessly to loosen the tight grip of the fabric from around her throat.
The crowd was driven into a collective frenzy at the sight of Torrie’s almost naked body. They cheered louder than ever.
Torrie was fading quickly. She thought she might lose consciousness at any moment.
Just as her world began to go black, Malice loosened her grip. Torrie fell to her hands and knees, the robe still around her neck like a sort of leash.
“Now, Torrie,” instructed Malice. “Walk!”
By now, Torrie knew it was useless to resist. She began crawling around the ring on all fours. Malice continued holding the robe like she was Torrie’s master.
Outside of the ring, a cameraman zoomed in on Torrie’s beautiful, anguished face. Torrie made eye contact and whimpered pathetically, “Please, help me! I’m so scared!”
As she continued crawling around, the camera zoomed in on all angles of her body. Torrie felt her clingy bikini bottoms as they rode up in between her smooth, round butt cheeks.
After several moments of this humiliation, Malice yanked on the makeshift leash, pulling Torrie up to her knees and then back to her feet.
Malice pulled Torrie’s body close to hers. “Now, now, Torrie,” she admonished. “No one is coming to save you. You’re all mine, for as long as I like. Your suffering will be legendary, even in Hell!”
Tears flooded Torrie’s eyes and streamed down her beautiful face.
With her left hand, Malice grabbed Torrie’s throat. With her right, she grabbed Torrie’s crotch, and in one quick movement, hoisted the blonde playmate’s 130-pound body over her head in a gorilla press. It was a vulgar display of power.
Torrie screamed, her body suspended horizontally in mid-air for several seconds. She could feel Malice’s cold, rough hands clutching in between her legs, those fat, sausage-like fingers working their way in between her butt cheeks. The thought of those digits penetrating her made her want to vomit.
Torrie shook her head in terror and cried out, “Put me down! Please!”
Malice laughed and answered, “As you wish.”
The Butcher lunged forward and dropped Torrie’s body belly-first onto her extended thigh.
The crowd let out a collective “OOOOHHHH!”
Torrie felt every ounce of air exit her body as her toned tummy connected with the giantess’s tree-trunk like leg. Her body hung there, bent over, her head down, her ass pointing straight up.
Malice reared her mighty hand back and began spanking Torrie’s firm butt cheeks. Torrie shrieked as each strike found its target. The impact was like being hit with a cast iron frying pan and connected with a sickening SLAP. She struggled to free herself, but Malice maintained a tight hold on the diva’s tortured body.
After several cruel strikes, Malice grabbed the waistline of Torrie’s bikini bottoms and yanked them up violently, wedgying the fabric in between her toned butt cheeks and creating a thong-like effect. Torrie howled as the bikini tore into her delicate flesh. The pain was excruciating, but even worse, she was mortified at how her body was being abused and violated by the much larger woman in front of all these people.
The crowd, however, loved it. They cheered on Malice, chanting her name and applauding each new degradation and torture.
Finally, Malice pushed Torrie’s distressed body off of her thigh. The diva landed clumsily on the mat. She rolled onto her stomach, massaging her back side with her hand. The camera zoomed in, capturing the large welts that formed on her tender flesh.
Torrie lay there, face down on the mat, trying to catch her breath. Never in her young life had she been subjected to so much abuse, so much humiliation.
Malice straddled Torrie’s back. Torrie felt the full weight of the massive woman’s frame and knew she had nowhere to go. The Butcher brushed Torrie’s disheveled blonde locks from her face. Her touch was delicate but the feeling of her scaly fingers on Torrie’s face made the angelic diva feel sick to her stomach. She moaned softly.
Torrie felt her chin being pulled back by Malice’s grip and before she knew what was happening, her face came up off the mat and her spine began to bend backward. Sharp currents of pain exploded throughout her body. She was in the grip of a vicious camel clutch.
Malice leaned back into the hold, the full weight of her hulking frame leveraging Torrie’s tortured body up into an arc-like shape. Torrie screamed a throat shredding howl. She was young and flexible, but no body was meant to bend like this. She felt as though she was being torn asunder.
The cameras zoomed in on Torrie’s tortured face. The crowd ooohhed and aaahhed as they witnessed the carnage on display.
Malice wrenched back even further, pulling on Torrie’s blonde locks for leverage. Torrie felt as though her body were about to break in two. Malice placed her dirty, sausage-like fingers into Torrie’s mouth and pulled her lips open, revealing the blonde diva’s perfect white teeth. Torrie felt the beastly woman’s fingers prying and tugging at her mouth. She wanted to vomit.
Just as Torrie felt that her body had nothing left to give, Malice released her grip and the blonde diva flopped back down to the mat face first. Her fleshy tits bounced off of the canvas.
Malice rolled the diva onto her back, straddling her helpless body. Torrie looked up at the Butcher. She had been in the ring with some of the most talented women in the WWE. But no one had ever dominated her like this.
The Butcher fingered the strap of Torrie’s leopard-print bikini top. Torrie trembled at Malice’s touch. She whimpered pathetically.
Malice took the thin strap between her fingers and began pulling upward. Slowly, the fabric of the top peeled away from Torrie’s body.
The crowd roared with anticipation.
“No, please!” begged Torrie. “Don’t do this! Stop!”
Malice ignored her protests and continued pulling upward on the strap. The camera zoomed in on Torrie’s exposed voluptuous tits, catching a glimpse of her nipples and areolae.
Finally, Malice ripped the top off, revealing both of Torrie’s luscious tits. The crowd went absolutely wild. It sounded as though the roof was going to come off of the arena.
Torrie squealed in shock. Her hands went to her chest in a futile attempt to cover herself. Malice brushed them aside and began assaulting Torrie’s tits, pummeling them with heavy fists. Torrie’s flesh jiggled and bounced with each impact. She cried out in agony as Malice rained blows down upon her.
Finally, Malice relented. She looked down at the beautiful, tortured blonde and smiled. She was satisfied at what she had accomplished. But this was a work in progress, and she was far from finished.
Torrie sobbed pathetically as tears streamed down her angelic face. She knew that no one was coming to save her. She was all alone against this savage butcher and she had nowhere to go. All she could do was absorb the punishment inflicted upon her.
Malice took hold of Torrie’s soft, pink nipples and gripped them in between her pincer-like fingers. Slowly, she began to pull and twist the tissue, pinching and squeezing.
Torrie felt a pain like she had never experienced before. She howled and shrieked. Her beautiful tits had always been a source of pride for her. Now they were being mangled and contorted like playthings in the vicious grip of this beastly woman.
“Oh, God!” she screamed. “Help me! Please! She’s killing me!”
But Torrie’s tortured ululations only seemed to excite the mad Butcher even further. Her grip grew even tighter as she dug her sharp nails into Torrie’s delicate flesh, which caused the young blonde to scream even louder. Malice’s excitement reached a fever pitch, as though she were about to ejaculate from the excitement.
Just as she was about to climax, she released Torrie’s nipples. Torrie cupped her tits with her hands and tried to massage the pain away. Malice looked down at her prey and merely laughed. Nothing amused her more than to see a weak, helpless victim struggle beneath her. She loved to take something pure and crush it beneath her boot. She lived for the excitement of a beautiful woman’s face stricken with pain.
Torrie, now clad in only her skimpy leopard print bikini bottoms, writhed around on the mat in pain and humiliation.
Malice grabbed a fistful of Torrie’s long blonde hair and lifted her back into a sitting position. The beastly Butcher positioned herself behind Torrie and wrapped her massive thighs around her young victim’s svelte torso and began to squeeze. Torrie moaned as she felt her energy draining from her ravaged body.
From behind, Malice wrapped one of her powerful arms underneath Torrie’s chin and wrapped the other around Torrie’s forehead, positioning the blonde beauty in a painful headlock. She jerked and wrenched Torrie’s head back and forth.
Malice was in complete control. Torrie’s face was coated in a thin layer of perspiration, her blonde hair matted to her face. Malice brushed the hair from Torrie’s eyes, stroking her face gently, tenderly.
Torrie moaned weakly. Malice had inflicted so much punishment and humiliation on her, but the soft caress was almost as bad. The touch of Malice’s fat fingers made Torrie’s skin crawl.
“Please,” Torrie murmured. “Let me go.”
To Malice, Torrie’s protests were like a beautiful melody.
“I can smell you, Torrie,” whispered Malice. “I can smell your fear. The smell is...intoxicating.” She took several strands of Torrie’s hair between her fingers and inhaled deeply.
“Oh, God,” whined Torrie. “Please, no more...”
Malice’s rough hands slid down Torrie’s athletic body, over her exposed tits, gliding past her toned belly and then rested on the fabric of her leopard print bikini bottoms. She fingered the soft material.
Torrie squirmed, trying to free herself from the woman’s clutches. But Malice pressed her thighs into Torrie’s svelte torso, squeezing even harder, locking the young blonde into place.
The Butcher slid her hand down to Torrie’s toned thighs and began massaging her flesh. Her touch caused Torrie to tense up, which only enraged Malice further. She roughly shoved Torrie’s legs apart so that they formed a v-shape, exposing her crotch.
Malice raised her hand in the air and balled it into a fist. Mercilessly, she hammered her clenched hand directly into Torrie’s cxnt.
Torrie let out an ear-splitting shriek. Pain exploded out of her pussy. Her flowery feminine center had always been the source of so much pleasure throughout her young life. Now it was the wellspring of so much agony.
Malice raised her fist again and slammed it viciously into Torrie’s pussy a second time. The blonde’s screaming intensified. She sounded like the victim in a slasher film.
Again and again Malice bludgeoned Torrie’s crotch, jackhammering her fist repeatedly. Ten, fifteen, twenty times. Torrie’s toned legs kicked uselessly as shockwaves of pain spiraled forth from her womanly center.
Torrie’s face became a mask of suffering and torment. She had never imagined pain like this.
Finally, Malice relented and pushed Torrie’s limp body aside.
Torrie’s screams faded into an anguished whine. She curled up into a fetal position with her hands between her legs, massaging her tortured pussy.
Only minutes earlier, she had felt so vivacious and full of life. Now, she lay there, almost completely naked save for her leopard print bikini bottoms, exposed and tormented beyond her comprehension.
Malice rose to her feet. She looked down on her fallen prey. Torrie was a vision. Her tanned, toned body splayed out on the mat. Her smooth buttery legs, svelte torso, and magnificent tits. Her angelic face framed by a mane of flowing blonde hair. Men and women the world over adored her. When they saw her, their thoughts became clouded by her beauty. She took their breath away.
But the Butcher was immune to Torrie’s feminine allure. Beauty such as this only filled her with rage. She saw Torrie’s ravishing body as a vessel for her hate, a container for her abuse. Her body was a canvas for Malice to paint her masterpiece of pain and suffering.
Had she been capable, Malice might have felt remorse for her actions. Staring down at the fallen diva, however, she only felt pity. How dare this frivolous bimbo step foot into the Butcher’s domain? Who did she think she was? She must be taught a lesson. She must learn.
Malice reached down and grabbed a handful of the diva’s luxurious blonde hair. Torrie moaned softly as she was pulled up into a sitting position, then to her feet.
Malice twirled Torrie’s body around, like a deranged puppet master. Torrie was completely helpless. She could only comply with Malice’s psychotic machinations.
“Now, my pretty,” whispered the Butcher. “It’s time to end this.”
Torrie moaned softly. She longed for an end to her torment, but somehow she knew that the worst was yet to come.
Malice cupped Torrie’s beautiful, exhausted face with her hand and looked into the diva’s bleary eyes.
“It’s time,” continued Malice, “for the widow’s peak!”
“Oh, God,” lamented Torrie. “No, please...”
Malice shoved Torrie’s head down roughly between the Butcher’s tree trunk-like thighs, squeezing them together and locking the diva’s body in place.
Torrie was bent over, her ass pointing outward. From outside the ring, the cameraman zoomed in on her toned butt cheeks. Malice grabbed the waistline of Torrie’s skimpy leopard print bikini bottoms and hiked them up into her butt cheeks.
Torrie squealed softly as she felt the soft fabric digging into her rear end. Malice wrapped her massive arms around the underside of Torrie’s torso.
Torrie was completely helpless. She had nowhere to go. She felt a sense of dread that she had never known before.
With one swift movement, Malice lifted Torrie up. Torrie felt her world go upside down as her legs went straight up into the air and she found herself positioned upright with her back to Malice’s and the back of her neck positioned against the Butcher’s shoulder.
Torrie shook her head, her eyes wide with unspeakable fear.
Malice had her hands gripped tightly around Torrie’s chin and held her there for several seconds. The crowd grew wild with anticipation.
Malice whispered, “This is the end, bitch!”
Suddenly, the Butcher dropped to her knees.
Torrie’s world went black.
The impact sent her limp body catapulting face-first down onto the mat. She lay there, face down, totally unconscious.
The crowd roared with approval. Their blood lust had finally been satiated.
Malice sat there, looking around at the appreciative fans. She didn’t care what they thought of her, but she knew by their reaction that she had given them what they wanted.
She turned her attention back to Torrie’s unmoving body. She pressed her hands against the blonde diva’s naked torso and rolled her onto her back. She looked down on her fallen victim with satisfaction, then planted both of her hands on Torrie’s exposed tits in a dominant pose, pinning her to the mat.
There was no need for her to hook her opponent’s leg. Torrie wasn’t going anywhere.
The referee slid into position and counted, his hand hitting the mat as he called out, “One! Two! Three!”
The ref signaled for the bell. The match was finally, mercifully, over. The crowd continued cheering.
Malice looked down one last time at the body of her conquered victim.
Despite the horror that she had experienced in the last few minutes, Torrie appeared at peace, as though she were sleeping. The only sign that she was still alive was the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Malice removed her hands from Torrie’s chest and rose to her feet. She lifted her black leather boot and placed it on Torrie’s toned stomach. The referee raised her hand in victory. The cheers of the crowd continued echoing throughout the arena as Malice’s theme song blasted over the sound system.
The match was over. But Malice was not done yet.
She bent over Torrie’s vanquished form. Her hands went once again to the waistline of Torrie’s leopard print bikini bottoms and she began tugging on them.
The fabric, wet with perspiration, slid down over Torrie’s tanned thighs, past her knees, then her calves, and finally over her ankles and feet.
Torrie lay there, now completely naked. She had lost the match, she had lost consciousness, and now she had lost what little had remained of her clothing. Had she been awake, she surely would have felt shame beyond anything she had ever experienced before.
Malice balled the bikini bottoms up in her fist. She bought them to her face and inhaled deeply, breathing in Torrie’s essence. The scent filled Malice with a sense of satisfaction that was almost orgasmic. The smell of Torrie’s pheromones, mingled with her fear, lingered on the soft material. She wished she could bottle it like perfume and save it for another day.
She kneeled down besides Torrie’s still unmoving form and caressed Torrie’s face one last time. Finally, she parted the diva’s pillowy lips and shoved the damp bikini bottoms into Torrie’s mouth.
Malice stood up and began to exit the ring. She felt overcome by a feeling of bittersweetness. She had accomplished exactly what she had wanted. But at the same time, she was sorry that it had ended so quickly.
No matter. There would be others.
She stepped off of the ring apron and made her way up the ramp as several medical personnel attended to Torrie’s motionless body.
The cameras zoomed in on Torrie’s exposed flesh. One of them focused in between her legs on the small, neatly trimmed patch of blonde pubic hair. The cameras surveyed every inch of her, conducting a sort of autopsy on her mangled body, lingering on her bare tits before coming to rest on her angelic face, and then finally, fading to black.
