A packed arena, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the lights and pyrotechnics setting the mood for an epic showdown. Standing across from each other, Quinta Brunson and Octavia Spencer. They exchange a glance, the tension is palpable, before the referee calls for the bell, signaling the start of the match. With the crowd roaring in the background, the two contenders circle each other, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The two women waste no time, diving into the action. Fist meets fist, muscle meets muscle, as they trade blows in a flurry of punches and kicks. Brunson, using her quick reflexes, lands a series of jabs on Spencer’s face, driving her back towards the ropes. But Spencer, with her raw strength, counters with a powerful clothesline, knocking Brunson to the mat. The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and jeers, as both women struggle to gain the upper hand.
Brunson, unfazed by the initial hit, springs back up to her feet. She circles Spencer, her fists held high, inviting her to engage in a round. Spencer, not one to back down from a challenge, obliges. The two women begin to trade blows once more landing their punches with precision and power.
Brunson manages to dodge many of Spencer’s haymakers, but Spencer, with her solid defense, absorbs the blows that do land, unwilling to give up an inch of ground.
The crowd is on the edge of their seats as Brunson’s lightning-fast combo sends Spencer reeling into the corner turnbuckle, the impact echoing through the arena. Brunson, with a wild look in her eyes, advances like a woman possessed, raining down an unrelenting barrage of blows.
Spencer, her back against the ropes, grimaces in pain but manages to keep her wits about her. In a moment of clarity, she swings a savage elbow, connecting squarely with Brunson’s temple. Brunson stumbles backward, stunned, giving Spencer the opening she needs to break free from the corner.
Spencer, seizing the moment, beats Brunson's ass across the ring, pinning her into the opposite corner. With Brunson now trapped, Spencer unleashes her fury, every punch landing with a sickening thud. Brunson, stunned and dazed, struggles to keep her guard up, but Spencer is relentless. As Brunson begins to sink to the mat, Spencer delivers a crushing uppercut that lifts Brunson off her feet, followed by a vicious knee to the chin on her way down. The crowd gasps, stunned by the brutal display.
With Brunson on the brink of defeat, Spencer smells blood. With a sadistic grin, she places her knee on Brunson’s neck, pressing her into the unforgiving metal ring post. Brunson, gasping for breath, weakly tries to shove Spencer off, but she’s no match for Spencer’s superior weight and strength. The crowd, a mix of cheers and boos, urges Brunson to fight back, but the writing is on the wall. As Brunson begins to fade, the referee steps in, imploring Spencer to break the hold before it’s too late.
Spencer, enjoying the moment, turns to the referee.
"Hey ref," she says, did your stupid ass forget "No rules? Get the fuck outta my face so I can go back to beating this bitch's ass."
The referee, hands thrown up in exasperation, can do little but let Spencer continue her brutal assault. Brunson, wheezing and coughing, slumps in the corner, helpless as the seconds tick by. The crowd, a mix of horror and awe, watches on as Spencer towers over Brunson.
In a sudden turn of events, Brunson seizes the opportunity afforded by Spencer’s taunting. With a desperate surge of adrenaline, she thrusts her foot up between Spencer’s legs, landing a direct hit deep into her pussy. Spencer buckled and dropped to her knees, her face contorted in agony.
With Spencer reeling from the low blow, Brunson strikes again. As Spencer collapses face-first into Brunson’s chest, Brunson seizes the opportunity. She presses the back of Spencer’s head deeper into her tits, cutting off Spencer’s air supply and initiating a brutal smothering technique. Spencer, her hands scrabbling at Brunson’s chest, gasps for air, her struggles becoming weaker by the second. The crowd, sensing a shift in momentum, roars their approval.
She grabs a fistful of Brunson’s hair in each hand and yanks, eliciting a pained cry from Brunson. The crowd, sensing that the match is now hanging in the balance, erupts in a frenzy of cheers and jeers. The two women, locked in a stalemate, strain against each other, each refusing to give an inch.
Spencer, her face red with exertion and strain, is a picture of stubborn defiance. Despite being weakened by the smothering, she clings to Brunson’s hair with an iron grip, refusing to be the first to yield. Brunson, on the other hand, is in obvious agony, her screams piercing the din of the crowd as she feels her hair being torn out at the roots. Both women, their faces twisted with pain and determination, are locked in a battle of wills, each unwilling to back down.
Brunson clamps her legs around Spencer’s waist, increasing the pressure on Spencer’s already compromised airway. But Spencer, sensing the shift, seizes the opportunity. With a powerful surge, she fights her way to her feet, staggering under Brunson’s weight but refusing to succumb. The crowd, sensing that the tide is once again turning, watches as the two women teeter on the edge of collapse, Octavia still clinging to Spencer’s scalp, Quinta still wrapped around her waist.
Octavia uses Brunson’s weight against her, propelling her towards the corner turnbuckle. The impact is bone-jarring and Quinta's tits jiggle in Octavia's still smothered face. but Brunson, her grip grip still tight, remains resolute. Octavia runs her back first into the turnbuckle across the ring.
The crowd, wincing at the sheer brutality of the collision, watches in amazement as Brunson, her back and scalp aching, holds on for dear life.
Spencer, her face turning purple, staggers on unsteady legs, her breath coming in ragged gasps. With each passing second, Brunson’s tit's become more and more unbearable.
As if her scalp is being seared by a branding iron, Brunson, through tear-blurred eyes, sees Spencer’s resolve wavering, but she knows that she too is on the brink of collapse.
Brunson releases her leg hold. Clutching Octavia, she climbs the turnbuckle, her arms and legs shaking with effort. The crowd, silent with anticipation, watches as Quinta, her face twisted with agony, struggles to pull herself and Octavia up the ropes. With each step, Spencer’s dead weight threatens to topple them both, but Quinta presses on, her fingers digging into Octavia's ass cheeks.
The crowd’s cheers echo through the arena as Octavia, with one last desperate act of defiance,reverses and back suplexes Quinta off the top rope. The two women crash to the mat, sending shockwaves through the ring. Both women, their bodies broken and battered, lie motionless, their tits heaving as they struggle to regain their senses. The crowd, sensing that the end is near, rises to their feet, a roar of approval.
Quinta, feeling like everything inside her is broken, drags herself over to Octavia's prone form, hooking a leg and collapsing onto Spencer’s chest for the pin. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once, then twice, but Octavia manages to get a shoulder up just before the third count. Brunson, exhausted and frustrated, collapses onto Spencer’s chest again, the two women now lying in a heap on the mat, the referee unsure if either has the strength left to continue.
With Quinta lying chest-to-chest on Octavia, the referee instinctively begins to count, but Spencer again breaks the pin at two, Octavia wraps her arms around Quinta, and rolls them over, initiating a pin of her own. The crowd, on the edge of their seats, watches as the referee’s hand hits the mat twice, but Quinta manages to kick out at the last second.
The crowd roars as Octavia, refusing to release Quinta, leverages her last strength to pull herself to her feet. With Quinta still locked in her grasp, and limp and lifeless, she is crushed by a tombstone piledriver; the referee slides into position and counts: one, two, three!
The bell rings, signaling Octavia's victory, and the crowd erupts in applause as the referee raises her hand in triumph. But Octavia, too exhausted to celebrate, stares down at Brunson’s motionless body, her expression a mix of exhaustion and hate.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, her eyes already set on her first-round match against Debra Jo Rupp.
This is what she says to Debra.
She's gonna shut that mouth up of hers. Or will she?
