[Gent]

Really appreciate the barefoot content

[Jackflash Jump]

Thank you, Gent.  It was suggested to me quite a while ago, and I finally remembered to do it. 

[the_walkin_dude]

But before the official could call for the bell, Selena snarled, "Make her tap, ref!"  The zebra then told the blonde, who now had tears streaming down her own face, that she had to tap out.  But with her arms trapped, she could not use her hands...which Gomez well knew.  Finally Peyton started stomping at the canvas with her right foot, signaling her surrender.  the Latina's legs snapped open, and List quickly rolled out of the ring and retreated to the safety of the lockerroom, heckled by the jeers of thousands of fans.

Still unable to stand on her own throbbing feet, Selena at least managed to get to her knees, and the referee raised her right arm as the announcer declared THE ONE AND ONLY BAREFOOT CONTESSA as the winner.

Small joint manipulation is one of those tactics that strikes me as completely legitimate and ridiculously bratty in equal measure and I love it. There's just something about an aggressor going after her opponent's fingers or toes that adds an extra level of malice / disdain to the proceedings. All that said, kudos to Selena for defending her newly-minted moniker and extra points for her forcing List to tap out with her foot, it's the little things that make a win special. Excellent work as always, Flash.

~rf

[Jackflash Jump]

Sarah Michelle Gellar vs Ruth Negga




Panting hard for breath, Sarah planted her palms to the mansion's floor and began to push herself up...only to suddenly feel a hand tightly grasping her matted blonde locks, her head being yanked up and back, and then her face smashed into the thick carpeting, which blunted only a tiny bit of the impact.  Stunned, Gellar remained face down and groaning as Ruth now climbed on her opponent's back, and reached forward to grab the blonde's ankles.

The brunette then yanked Sarah's legs back, twisting a spine and drawing forth a piercing shriek of agony.  Negga allowed herself a half-smirk at the sound of her adversary's distress, and assured herself that victory was not far away.

"You can submit all you want," Ruth coolly said.  "But I'm not letting go until something in you pops.  Kreuk put a nice big bounty on your head, but I can only collect by doing some damage  It's nothing personal, of course, just business."

Kreuk.  Was Sarah ever going to be rid of that bitch?  The blonde had seemingly settled their bitter feud with a devastatingly decisive win over the brunette recently.  But Kristin Kreuk had never been a gracious loser.  If she couldn't destroy Sarah Michelle Gellar, then she would spend the money to make sure someone else did.

Sarah pushed all thought of Kreuk from her mind, as she had something more important to worry about:  escaping.  She knew she couldn't withstand this punishment much longer, so she had to move fast. 

With Negga sitting on her, she had her knees bent under herself.  That meant her feet were close to Sarah's head.  In desperation, she was able to crane her neck far enough to sink her teeth into her tormentor's heel.  Ruth gave a sharp howl of pain, then returned the favor by biting down on Gellar's own heel, drawing a yelp from the blonde.

But the move also succeeded in making Negga release her hold, and she climbed off of her adversary in order to subject her to some new torture...and preferably something that would keep Ruth a suitable distance from the blonde's teeth.  Standing up, the brunette grabbed Gellar by her hair and started to haul her up to her feet as well.  But even as she did so, Sarah reached up and behind with her hands, clasped them around her rival's head, and then suddenly dropped to her knees, pulling Negga down with her for a crude Stunner, with Ruth's chin snapping hard against the blonde's shoulder.

The impact sent Ruth sailing backward onto her butt, and she sat there on the floor, glassy-eyed as she shook her head, her right hand massaging her chin.  Ignoring the pain and exhaustion that very nearly overwhelmed her, Gellar scampered on all fours toward her foe and lunged at her, tacking Negga onto her back.

The pair then began to roll back and forth across the floor, legs tangled together as hands tore at their manes of hair, their grunts, gasps and snarls filling the air.  This continued for what seemed like minutes to the enraptured spectators, but in truth was barely thirty seconds.  It was then that Sarah was able to maneuver Ruth onto her side, while the blonde slid behind her.  Before Negga could comprehend what was occurring, she found Gellar's boa-like legs locked around her midsection, and the blonde's right arms tightening across her windpipe with a chokehold.

Wheezing for precious breath, her hands frantically slapping and tugging in vain at the limbs of her punisher, Negga's eyes glazed over and her lids began to flutter, while her motions grew more sluggish.  The last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness was, "Tell Kreuk to keep her money...she's going to need it to pay for physical therapy after I smash her into a thousand pieces!"  She then added with a smile, "Oh, and I'm sorry they're going to have to carry your beaten bitch ass out of here.  Nothing personal, just business."

[Jackflash Jump]

Two excellent pieces of work, my friend!  In particular, I'm always keen on seeing Mila Kunis around these parts...even in a losing position. 

[the_walkin_dude]

Two excellent pieces of work, my friend!  In particular, I'm always keen on seeing Mila Kunis around these parts...even in a losing position. 

Seconding Flash's sentiments, these are both stellar reads. Margot / Mila was as frenetic and mean-spirited as I'd expected it to be and seeing Beyonce steamrolled by Kim K from the outset was as startling as it was emphatic. Goes to show the power of confidence and how fights can be won or lost at the podium or on the walk to the ring without so much as a slap thrown. Also makes one wonder if Beyonce will muster her reserves and try for a rematch or if she's been thoroughly humbled, at least as far as Kardashian is concerned.

Thanks for sharing,

~rf

[KatieJobber]

Loved the Billie story! Love seeing people put stories up pretty frequently thank you to everyone posting!

[Jackflash Jump]

Halloween comes early, as the Walkin' Dude starts sharing treats with us...and there will be more to come!

"A Timeline of Bear Hugs"
Neve Campbell vs Lili Reinhart
by The Walkin' Dude



A note on the location: For the uninitiated, ‘The Smokehouse’ is a refurbished warehouse in
Vancouver’s port district, affecting a 1930’s small venue vibe wherein patrons can get a great brisket sandwich and
on the weekends (Friday through Sunday, rain or shine) see ladies bring ‘the smoke’ in topless Boots & Bottoms
style boxing or wrestling bouts. This report comes from a recent card wherein a visiting Neve Campbell (now in the
Special Attraction stage of her career) returned to the Smokehouse to battle house regular Lili Reinhart in a thirty
minute wrestling match. What was predicted to be a dead-even contest on paper turned into a decisive route of one
competitor and a perfect example of the old Kat Heigl adage:

’...but nothing leaves a woman so profoundly beaten as a relentless, well-crafted series of catch & release Bear
Hugs.’

4:01
Neve (black briefs w/ double white stripe at each hip and black boots) secures first Bear Hug of the bout,
drawing a breathy grunt from Lili (bright green briefs, white wrestling shoes) as she drawn in tummy to tummy.
Reinhart immediately answers with a palm wedged against the brunette’s chin, but Campbell slips free and presses
her cheek to Lili’s chest to deny separation. Blonde far from dissuaded, she buries both hands in Neve’s hair and
pulls hard enough to earn a hiss of pain and a sharp constriction from the veteran.

(LR)“Lemme go, hag. Or I’ll rip your hair out.”

(NC) “Gonna have to make me, cutie. And tugging my hair isn’t it.”

Campbell’s prediction holds true despite Reinhart’s best efforts, eventually forcing the younger wrestler to
dig her elbows into Neve’s bicep in an attempt to fight through the brunette’s arms to apply a counter Hug. Neve
lets her get about halfway there before she springs the trap, sinking into a deep crouch, then shooting up on tiptoe
to haul Reinhart off her feet! The ascent is quick and painless, the descent merely the former as Campbell sinks to
one knee and THUMPS Lili’s crotch on the post of her thigh with an Inverted Atomic Drop! Reinhart’s mouth a
perfect ‘O’ of shock, then a thin, flat line when the brunette pops her hips and slings the youngster over, around and
down to crush her between canvas and curves courtesy a Belly to Belly Suplex. Lili stretched out flat so Neve
plants her hands and bears down to earn a quick ‘TWO!’ count before Reinhart lifts a shoulder.

10:19
Troubles piling up for Lili, she’s sprawled on her belly with Neve straddling her calves. What has been a
short reprieve comes to an end when Campbell grabs hold of Reinhart’s waistband and pulls it sharply enough to
raise her the blonde’s hips and belly off the canvas. Free (right) arm crooked into a vague tire iron shape, Neve
raises it high and brings it down once, twice, three times, her forearm making heavy, damp SLAPPING sounds
against Reinhart’s lower back in the dim confines of the Smokehouse. Reinhart bleats in outrage, starts to scramble
out from under the brunette and has the jailbreak stymied by a quick Kneeling Reverse Bear Hug. S-grip grinding
deep into the pit of Lili’s stomach, Campbell hunches forward and bears down on her foe until Reinhart collapses to
her tummy. Once Lili’s facedown the cycle begins anew. Neve trades out her Hug for the waistband grip, muscles
her blonde up and bludgeons away at her sweat-shiny back until Reinhart starts to scramble and ends up back in
another Bear Hug. Lili’s confidence taking the same pounding as her midsection if the following exchange is any
indication.

(LR)“Get offa me, you lazy old bitch! My fans didn’t come here to see you roll around on the mat for half an hour!”

(NC)“I don’t give a damn about your fans, little girl. MY fans came out to watch me use up every last drop of you.
And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

17:53
No one in attendance at the Smokehouse that night ever saw anyone struggle in quicksand for nearly
twenty minutes, but more than a few of them thought Lili Reinhart was doing a damned good job as the fight wore
on. Blonde’s laid out on her left side now with Neve snuggled in behind and the Bear Hug wrapped around
Reinhart’s midsection just below her breasts. It’s an uncomfortable arrangement made all the more so by Campbell
slipping both legs around Lili’s left thigh for a mean-spirited Scissors that completely neutralizes that leg while
leaving the right to flop uselessly atop Neve’s grinding stems. Reinhart’s resistance, once almost constant is now
limited to infrequent frenetic bursts wherein she pushes at Campbell’s elbows, wriggles against the brunette’s hips
or reaches back to tug at Neve’s hair. None of it does her any good, the steady work on her lower back has wicked
the younger wrestler of her strength and the insidious persistence of those Bear Hugs have her huffing and puffing
like a woman twenty years Neve’s senior. At one point Neve nuzzles in even closer so she can impart some useful
information.

(NC)“Hey, do you see that rather flummoxed looking man sitting in the front row? The one who doesn’t seem to
know if he’s delighted or disgusted? He’s a senior reporter at BLONDE! And he’s gonna love this.”

(LR)“Wait, BLONDE! is here? No! No, Neve! Stop showing me offohhohhohhohhohhohhohhohhSTAAAAAAAWP!”

Neve breaks her clasp, flattens both hands into paddles and proceeds to slap Lili’s tits for fully ten seconds
before locking down tight once again.

25:08
It’s all over for Lili Reinhart. Oh, the match is still goin, but she’s the Wicked Witch of the East and Neve
Campbell is the Gale’s farmhouse. The blonde’s glued to the canvas flat on her back with Neve kneeling above her
head so she can lean down in a north-south arrangement that sees her arms wrapped around the younger
wrestler’s waist and her right cheek heavy against Reinhart’s fluttering belly. No more S-grip for Neve’s Hug, she’s
cupping her own elbows to apply even more pressure to Lili’s defenseless midsection. Only saving grace (if you
can call it that) of her current predicament is that Reinhart managed to turn her head to one side before Campbell
could bury her in a Tummy Smother. Of course that means she’s burning energy every few seconds to avoid falling
victim to the referee’s five count. ONE... TWO... Lily gets a shoulder up. ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR... Lily
rocks from side to side, breaking the pin with a second to spare. ONE... TWO... THREE... Lily bridges *just*
enough to buy a little more of this torture. She manages this balancing act for almost two minutes, but no one’s
really surprised when the end comes.

(LR, blubbering)“I give!”

(NC) “What was that?”

(LC, blubbering louder) “I GIVE UP! GET OFFA ME!”

(NC) “Ref, she’s submitting!”

(REF, kneeling beside the action) “You subm--”

(LR, frantic)“YES! YES! YES! MAKE HER LET GO!”

The ref calls for the bell and Neve lets go as soon as her name is announced. Kneeling over her opponent,
she moves to rise, only to change those plans when Reinhart drapes a hand over her chest. Taking hold of both the
blonde’s wrists, Campbell stretches Lili’s arms out overhead and pins them in place with her shins. Another round
of breast slaps follow, Neve helping herself to jugg for more than thirty seconds to show the bawling blonde one of
the many dividends of a pitiless Bear Hug campaign.

[BloodySam]

The Campbell/Reinhart fight's sweet!

[Jackflash Jump]

Ariel Winter vs Nanoka




The two beauties warily circled one another with some fifteen feet of distance between them.  Their curvaceous bodies were glistening with sweat, and their ample bosoms heaved as they gulped in air.  The battle between them had been more or less a stalemate thus far, but each knew they could not maintain this exhausting pace for much longer, so it either was going to take the upper hand and win, it had to be soon.

Ariel didn't travel all the way from L.A. to Tokyo just to lose.  Likewise, Nanoka wasn't about to let this gaijin come to her country and defeat her.  Their eyes locked on one another, invisible daggers sailing through the air back and forth between them, they seemed to communicate by some silent means.  Ariel straightened her back and thrust out her bare 32Ds.  Nanoka did likewise, pushing forward her even more impressive 35Hs.  Then, both let out banshee wails and rushed toward one another.

They collided in the center of the room, chest to chest, with the thunderous sound of wet flesh, and a starburst of sweat beads erupting from their voluptuous forms.  Each let out loud, pained grunts and stumbled backward from the impact...but neither fell to the floor.  Both Nanoka and Ariel had looks of astonishment on their faces; never before had an opponent not been felled by each beauty's chest bump.  But now, it seemed, they truly were two immovable objects exerting irresistible force.

Shaking their heads to clear them and scowling angrily at one another, the two battlers stepped backward to again put distance between themselves.  And then, with roars of angry defiance, they again charged toward each other.

This collision was even more brutal than the first, with both battlers letting out pained groans.  Each reeled backward on wobbly legs, their eyes glazed as they were dazed from the impact.  Still, neither collapsed to the floor...much to the consternation of the other.

Groaning in discomfort, Ariel and Nanoka paced around the room, drawing on their flickering reserves of strength, until the two combatants, clad only in thong bikini briefs, once more faced off from opposite sides of the room.  They both stood there stock still for nearly a full twenty seconds, and then as if on cue, they each let out bloodcurdling shrieks and raced together.  For a third time, their bodies slammed together, their breasts nearly pancaking from the sheer force of the impact.  Each recoiled from one another, staggering backward for several steps.  But then one magnificent body toppled...!

Ariel fell flat on her back and lays there starfished, her glassy eyes staring up at the penthouse's ceiling as she moaned and gulped in air, a look of absolute disbelief on her face.  Nanoka stood there looking at her fallen rival for several long moments, seemingly too stunned to comprehend what had happened.  But then the spark of enlightenment twinkled in her eyes, and a broad smile crossed her face as she raised her clenched fist in the air and joyously cried out, "Saiko!"

Invigorated by having sent her rival sprawling, the Japanese beauty steps over to the prone Ariel and delivers a stomp to the American's right breast, drawing a shriek from the victim.  Nanoka then repeats the stomp, this time on the left breast, with an identical result.  A third stomp slams her sole down upon Winter's forehead, making the American instinctively bring her hands up from her sore breasts and to her face.

Now, Nanoka bends at the knees, and suddenly jumps up into the air.  As she arcs down, her feet are aimed directly at Ariel's breasts for a double stomp.  But with this move, the over-eager Asian has made a serious mistake.  Her feet do land agonizingly upon her target's bosom, but Ariel's sweat-slick skin causes Nanoka's feet to slip out from under her, and she crashes to the floor, the back of her head taking the brunt and leaving her badly dazed.

Both beauties moan in anguish for more than a full minute, and then both start to stir.  Slowly, with whatever scant power they still possess, each manages to roll over to their bellies, then push up to all fours, and crawl away from one another.  When both reach sofas placed on opposite sides of the room, they use them to brace themselves as they unsteadily get back up to their feet.

Finally upright, they face one another, both pushed to the very limits of their endurance, their magnificent bodies bruised and quivering.  They then begin to limp toward one another, saying nothing, but their eyes registering pure fury for one another.  As they come together, both raise their arms in an attempt to wrap them around the other for a bearhug.  Nanoka proves quicker, and she gets her arms under Ariel's.  Still, both then pour every last ounce of their remaining power into their arms, and each moan in anguish as they're ruthlessly crushed in their dual embraces, their bare breasts mashed together.

One minute ticks by...two...three.  The battlers gasp and whine in distress, their bodies trembling from effort and pain, their heads lolling side to side as each struggles to hold on longer than the other.

Suddenly, with a long, loud whimper, Ariel's arms fall free, and her head falls backward, the fight squeezed out of her luscious form at last.  Nanoka's own arms then spasm open, and Winter collapses to the floor.  The Asian drops down upon her fallen foe, and presses her breasts down over the American's face.  Ariel's muffled moans and feeble squirmings are evidence of both her distress as well as her helplessness.  Soon enough, she ceases to move altogether as she is smothered into total defeat.

With tremendous effort, Nanoka struggles back up, then places her foot upon the heaving chest of her beaten rival.  With a broad smile of supreme satisfaction, she raspily declares to the cheering spectators, "Watashi wa jodesu, soshite watashi wa kono gaikoku no meinu o shoy shite imasu!"

[the_walkin_dude]

Ariel didn't travel all the way from L.A. to Tokyo just to lose.  Likewise, Nanoka wasn't about to let this gaijin come to her country and defeat her.  Their eyes locked on one another, invisible daggers sailing through the air back and forth between them, they seemed to communicate by some silent means.  Ariel straightened her back and thrust out her bare 32Ds.  Nanoka did likewise, pushing forward her even more impressive 35Hs.  Then, both let out banshee wails and rushed toward one another.

Gotta love the use of gaijin in a catfight context, makes the contest feel more like an international incident than a brawl. Nanoka's near disaster coming off the Double Stomp was a great touch too. Excellent work as always, good sir. And thanks for posting my most recent efforts.

~RF

[Jackflash Jump]

(More magic from the Walkin' Dude! )

"Hapless No More"

Lucy Hale vs Hayden Panettiere



The show’s been over for more than half an hour when Lucy returned for our interview, the brunette all cleaned up
and sporting a fresh pair of sprint briefs (matte black with: ‘GRIT’ across the seat in white Impact font) and a sunny
yellow tank-top featuring the message Everyone Loves A Winner! Temporarily detoured by the last remnants
from catering, she grabbed a bottled water and a huge handful of grapes before padding over to plop down in the
chair opposite.

Dwight Renfield: “Hello again, Luce. Thanks for sitting down for this so quickly after what had to be grueling
victory... and apparently controversial post-match.”

Lucy Hale: “Grueling, yes. But controversial? According to who, I wonder?”

(DR) “I’ve seem some tweets from Blonde! calling it the most heinous sort of brunette grandstanding.
Something tells me you have a different opinion.”

(LH) Rolls eyes “Of course I do. If our roles had been reversed, or if it was their beloved Blake Lively or
Natalie Alyn Lind doing the Splashing, they would’ve hailed it as something like ‘a ferocious show of flaxen flag-
planting!’ or some other such nonsense. But today they’re up in arms because it was their precious Panettiere
sobbing, and groaning on the mat. Or rather, it was because LUCY HALE left sweet baby Hayd’ whimpering and
clutching her belly. I’ve finally closed the gap with the little golden girl and they can’t stand it.”

(DR) “So you wouldn’t call what you did after the bell piling on?”

(LH) “Of course I would! But it was something we’d both agreed to beforehand, just look at the contract.
One five minute loser’s penalty to be carried out immediately after the deciding submission.”

(DR) “There were some in attendance that would argue the penalty phase was null and void because
Hayden didn’t actually sub--”

(LH) “Spare me! A girl doesn’t have to squeal or slap the mat to submit, Dwight. I dominated Hayden
for those last ten to twelve minutes, including those last three she spent mewling in that Abdominal Stretch. And
what’s the ombudsman’s rule for any submission hold that’s secured for three straight minutes?”

(DR) “The recipient is considered helpless and the fall, in this case, the match, is awarded to the
aggressor.”

(LH) “Helpless is a good word. That’s exactly what she was, you heard her crying out when I punched her
tummy? She was sobbing with each shot, she just couldn’t bring herself to submit to me in front of that crowd.”

(DR) “Why do you think that is?”

(LH) “I don’t think, Dwight. I know. In my first four meetings with Hayden Panettiere, I went zero for four.
That’s not dropping a best of three or even a best of five, that’s getting swept in a best of SEVEN. This afternoon?
My career record against the mean little brat stands at twenty-three, twenty-two and two. This afternoon was MY
fourth straight win over Hayden. Girl hasn’t beaten me in a year and a half, but she still has the nerve to call me
Lucy Hapless in the pre-fight press conference? She has the GALL to deny me a verbal submission when I swept
her three falls to none? Not a chance, Dwight. Not when she used to send me eight by ten glossies of me folded in
half over her shoulder or her knee or with my nose buried deep in her ass. Today was a receipt that Hayden had
dodged far too long. She thought bawling to the ombudsman would get her some sympathy, but rules are rules and
a loser’s penalty is a loser’s penalty.”

(DR) “So you Splashed her to tears?”

(LH) “So I Splashed her to tears.”

********
Lucy was so focused clawing Hayden’s tummy that she didn’t notice the ombudsman’s chime until the third
cycle. Even then she didn’t release the grip, she just looked up with an expression of mild consternation. Seeing he
had her attention, the ombudsman raised his mic and explained, “Ladies and gentlemen, the official has ruled
Hayden Panettiere defenseless within the confines of the current hold. Therefore the fall and the match are
awarded to the winner, Lucy Hale!”

Hale relinquished the Seated Abdominal Stretch / Belly Claw combination on instinct, then stood up and
nudged Hayden’s left hip with her right foot. “Say it.”

Panettiere only groaned and slung an arm over her tummy which was now just as pink as her sporty fightin’
briefs. Lucy frowned, put her toes to Hayden’s navel and pressed down. “Say it, Hayden. I want to hear--”

The blonde swatted her foot away. “Guuuhhhh... get away from me, losHHHRRRGGGHHH!”
Lucy sprang up, crunched in on herself and stretched out full length so that she was taut as a bowstring
when she SPLASHED down on Panettiere’s pulverized tummy! “Start it!” the brunette barked to the ombudsman as
she scrambled to her feet. “Loser’s Penalty, just like we agreed!”

He did, though for a moment the ombudsman wasn’t sure Lucy knew because she’d turned her back to
Hayden and stomped to the edge of the slick blue mat-- Hale wheeled around, sprinted back at the guttering blonde
and busted out a gorgeous cartwheel that brought her THWHAPPING down atop Panettiere’s midsection in a
second Splash! Pushing up on her elbows in the nauseating aftermath, Lucy made a ‘V’ with her hands and rested
her chin in the fork thereof while she fluttered her legs and ‘swam’ a few lengths with Hayden serving as an
unwilling pool float.

Pretty face pinched with nausea, Panettiere pushed at the brunette’s hip and shoulder and wailed, “Dumpy
bytch! Guuuhhh... get that cottage cheese gut offa my OOOHHH! OOOOOOHHH! OOOOH! OOOOOOWWWW!”

Lucy hoisted herself into a perfect push-up position, then simply removed her hands to THUMP! her
tummy down on Hayden’s no less than half a dozen times! “YOUR TUMMY QUIT, HAYD!” Lucy barked as she
forced the fitfully wriggling blonde to carry her weight. “YOUR TUMMY QUIT AND I WANNA HEAR YOU SAY IT!”
“Nuuuuhhhh...NEVER!” Panettiere was beating both heels against the mat now, her resistance that of a
tired toddler that won’t admit it’s time for bed. “YOU COULDN’T MAKE ME QUIT! YOU KNOW IT, I KNOW IT,
THEY KNOW OOOOOOHHH GAAAAAAAAAAAAWD STAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHP!”

Lucy pivoted ninety degrees to transform the Crossbody into an agonizing Double Leg Grapevine that
wrenched Panettiere’s stems wide open. From there she collected Hayden’s wrists, pinned them directly overhead
and proceeded to SLAP her tyrannical tummy down on Panettiere’s pulverized paunch over and over and
over--

“MY TUMMY QUIT!” Hayden blubbered. “LUCY’S TUMMY MADE ME QUIT! PUUUH-PLEASE JUST GET
OFFA MMMPPPPHHHHHHH!”

Hale slid forward and leaned in, the brunette arching her back to ensure her rival got an inescapable faceful
of tummy. “Get in there.” Lucy demanded of her sobbing, sniffling prey.

There was still almost a minute left in the loser’s penalty when Hayden slipped into unconsciousness and
Hale got to her feet almost immediately thereafter, no matter what BLONDE! might have you believe.

“Leave her there until the clock runs out.” she huffed to the ombudsman. “And leave that up,” she pointed
to the scoreboard reading Hale: 3 / Panettiere: 0, “until the building is empty.”

[Jackflash Jump]

(Here's a treat for us all on this Halloween, courtesy of the Walkin' Dude!)

Troian Bellisario vs Brie Larson




Lucifer’s Indulgence, a coffee shop somewhere in Silver Lake...

“What’s this?” Troian asked after taking a seat opposite the blonde. It was a contract, of course. Brie
always presented her contracts in garish magenta envelopes. She undoubtedly thought it was unique, Bellisario
simply thought it insufferable.

Larson rolled her eyes from over her raised teacup, then set it down and tapped the envelope with an index
finger. “It’s a contract, Troian. Don’t ask obvious questions. It’s beneath you.”

The brunette offered her a faint smile before reaching out to take possession of the envelope. “What’s it
for? Oil? Pro-style?”

“A catfight, actually.”

Troi paused in the midst of tearing it open. “Oh? I thought the ‘C’ word was verboten for all of Kevin’s girls.”

Larson’s dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “First, I’m no one’s *girl*. Second, BLONDE! has named me
‘Bantam of the Year’ two years running. Third, I’ve run through everyone the studio has set in front of me. That
affords me a certain amount of leverage when I ask for something... outside the norm.”

“Everyone but me.”

“I’ve beaten you, Troian.” Brie sniffed. “It just so happens that you’ve beaten me as well.”

Bellisario didn’t answer at once, she took several seconds to peruse the contract. Eventually she looked
up, eyebrows arched in surprise. “Hair-pulling? How tawdry.”

“Don’t play coy. I watched all your matches with Jessica and Laura, I know you like to pull hair.”

“And I saw what you did to Chloe and Kaley. Wasn’t easy, the Mouse lawyers were quite thorough about
getting clips yanked from the internet. You like to pull hair too, Brie.”

“I do what needs to be done, that’s all.” the blonde said primly. “Surely you’re not afraid of a little tugging?”

“I’m not, but if this isn’t just a catfight in name only, we’re doing things right. No ponytails, no fightin’ French
Braids, no Battle Buns. Loose and tangly is the only correct answer.”

Larson smiled. “I wouldn‘t have it any other way.”

********

“BITCH!” Larson’s voice was sharp and brittle in the small confines of the private gym. “Let go of my
haiAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!”

Bellisario, seated atop Brie’s back with the blonde’s arms angled over her thighs, tightened her grip and
yanked until Brie’s feet pattered against the scuffed blue mat. “What’s wrong, A-List?” Troi ground her butt against
Brie’s squirming tush and continued to tug and pull. “Can’t take what you dish out?”

“You’re gonna take a fucking beating when I get out of this.” Larson snapped. “Swear to god, I’ll choke you
out with your own HRRRMMPPPHHHUUGGHH!”

Troi collected Brie’s hair in a messy top-knot just to tickle, then mash it against the blonde’s protesting face.

“The hell you will.” Bellisario countered. “You’re not gonna do anything but sit there and suffAHHH DAMMIT!”

The relative stillness broke into a frantic scramble when Brie wrenched her arms loose from Troi’s trap and
twisted onto her back. Just like that she buried her hands in Bellisario’s dark locks and pulled hard enough to make
her eyes water.

“You’re mine now, bitch.” Larson growled through clenched teeth. “Gonna take everything from you,
starting with this greasy rat’s nest!”

********

“Clawing and pinching?” Troi asked in mock indignation. “You must have called in a lot of favors to get
such...creative freedom.”

“Hardly any.” Brie answered after another sip of tea. The legal department lost all of its reservations once
they realized I wanted YOU and not Tatiana Maslany.”

Now it was Troi’s turn to narrow her eyes. “Is that so?”

Larson smiled, reached out and laid a hand atop Bellisario’s. From a distance it looked almost tender, but
there was nothing kind about the fingernails gouging at the side of her hand.

“Honey. You’re a glorified sparring partner. No one cares what I do to you.”

Troian laughed softly, turned her hand beneath Brie’s so she could dig her nails into the meat of the
blonde’s palm. “Why Brie, I had no idea you could be so vicious. If I didn’t know better I’d swear you were talking
like a girl that didn’t want to show off her abs on Instagram for a week or more.”

“I dare you to post before and after shots, Troian. I really do.” Larson murmured. “I’m sure your eight
followers will be most concerned.”

********

Bellisario wore a grim, albeit utterly satisfied smile as she draaaaaaaaaaagged the spade of her left hand
across Larson’s midsection for what felt like the hundredth time in a few minutes. Hissing in fury and pain, Brie
thrashed her arms wildly and in so doing managed to grab hold of Troi’s hair, but her limbs remained trapped
overhead in the sinewy loop of the brunette’s right arm.

“Six pack’s gonna be twelve by the time I’m finished.” Troi draped the warm weight of her left thigh over
Brie’s left hip, not to Scissor, but control. “Maybe even twenty-four. Impressive gains, amiright?”

Larson bucked and twisted like someone trying to fight out from under a damp rug and got her tummy
scored half a dozen more times for the trouble. Settling for another truculent hair pull, she growled, “You can’t keep
up with me in the gym or on the matRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!”

Troi stopped raking and started clawing, the brunette kneading that vaunted midsection like it was
particularly stiff dough. “A thousand crunches a day says my Abdominal Stretch beats yours, Brie.” Bellisario cooed
in the blonde’s ear. “I’ll fight you for tummy pride any time, any place.”

********

“Smothering? Brie, it’s almost like you’re carrying a grudge.”

“I don’t carry grudges, I do occasionally correct mistakes.” the blonde countered coolly. “It’s all there, of
course. Hand over Mouth, Breast, Tummy--”

“Face Sitting or I walk.” Bellisario interrupted. “Front, Reverse, Sidesaddle, whichever angle I please.”

Larson snorted derisively, though her eyes remained deadly serious. “I said it’s all there, including your
favorite smutty indulgence. Not that you’ll ever be in position to secure such a hold.”

“Smutty indulgence? You say that like you didn’t leave Natalie bawling in butt-shock only a week before the
End Game premiere.”

Brie looked unfazed. “I’m a fighter, Troian. Fighters win matches with gluteal chokes. Whores sit on faces.”

Bellisario’s smile, feigned well past its limits, fell away like it’d been scalded off by acid. “Watch your mouth,
Brie.”

“Make me, bitch.”

********

Shins heavy on the blonde’s shoulders, Troian gripped Brie’s wrists in either hand and beat them against
the mat while simultaneously SLAMMING her ass on her foe’s chest over and over and over again. Breath
coming in great, tearing gasps, Bellisario pinned Larson’s hands together over her head and sidled up until the fork
of her crotch was tight against the other woman’s chin.

“Give up, Brie.” she demanded to the exhausted, fuming blonde. “Say it. I’m not moving until you say it.”

“Fuck you, this isn’t over yeMMMPPPPPPPHHHHHHH!”

Troian scooted forward and sat down with the full weight of her undercarriage grinding against the blonde’s
mouth and nose. “You’re finished. Tap out.”

Larson glowered, her fury palpable even though she was engulfed from the bridge of the nose on down.
“Fuhghyuu.”

Troi smiled prettily. “Hey, the contract specified clawing AND pinching, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, she just reached back and pinched Larson’s nipples through the thin cotton
of her sports bra. Half a dozen strong twist-pulls was enough to get the brunette what she wanted.

“AYEGHEV!” Brie sobbed in muffled misery and outrage. “AYEGHEV SOGEDDHOFFAMEEE YUUU
FHUGGEN BIDGGGGGAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEE!”

Troi pulled a little harder and waggled her hips from side to side, the brunette rubbing it in both literally
and figuratively. “Catfight rules, baby.” she chirped to the suffering wrestler. “I don’t get up until I’m satisfied.”

********

Brie had signed the contract ahead of time, which was the only reason Troi didn’t send it to her own
counsel even after a thorough perusal. Once she’d added her name, she returned it to the envelope and slid it back
across the table to Larson. “There. You’ve got your catfight.”

“Wonderful.” the blonde said before tucking the envelope into her purse. “I prefer boxing and submission
wrestling of course, but it’s fun to go slumming from time to time, don’t you agree?”

Troi was silent for so long Larson decided the meeting was over and got up from the table. She was about
to leave when Bellisario noted, “This is the last time you’re going to disrespect me, Brie.”

Brie treated her to a radiant smile utterly devoid of mirth. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Troian. I haven’t even
STARTED to disrespect you yet.”

********

Troi only got up when Brie’s eyes fluttered shut and her breath was a shallow, sucking pressure against her
trunks.

“Feel that? That’s my foot on your tits. I‘m posing over you, Brie.”

Larson groaned, reached up and tried to push the brunette’s leg away with no success. “Guuuuhhhh...get
off. Leave me alone, damn yoooooooohhhhhh!”

Bellisario caught her foe’s right nipple between two toes and gave it a sharp twist while she flexed her
biceps for the non-existent audience. “It’s not the middle of the ring at the Staples Center, but it’s a start.” Troi
chided. “Imagine the humiliation you’ll feel when I get to do this in front of a screaming, sell-out crowd.”

“Nuuuuhhh...never get the chance. You’re a nobodBITCH!”

Troian removed her foot, leaned down and reapplied her previous pinching attack with malicious, titty-
twisting interest.

“Get used to it, loser.” she ordered over Brie’s incensed wails. “Because this nobody isn’t going anywhere
until you admit she’s the fucking best!”

[Jackflash Jump]

Penny (Kaley Cuoco) vs Max (Kat Dennings)



(It's been a while since I've done a piece with Kaley and Kat playing their famous TV characters.  For newcomers, here's the premise:  these matches are set prior to when we first met them on their sitcoms.  Both are struggling young waitresses, Max in New York, and Penny in Los Angeles.  To make some extra money, they both got into the apartment wrestling scene, and they each flourished.  Upon first crossing paths, they developed an instant and lasting hatred for each other, resulting in a series of fights across the U.S. that has elevated their feud to the most exciting rivalry in all of catfighting.  This is the next installment in their ongoing conflict.  Enjoy!)

The two beauties knelt facing one another on opposite sides of the large inflatable wading pool that had been set up in the center of the mansion's opulent ballroom, their bare chests heaving as they panted heavily for breath, their lush bodies glistening as baby oil covered every square inch of their flesh.  They had to wipe oil from their eyes and spit it out of their mouths, and push aside locks of hair that was now matted with the oil.

When Penny and Max had agreed to make this latest battle between them an oil wrestling match, neither had fully appreciated what that would entail, as neither had ever fought in oil before.  But they swiftly learned that they had few skills for brawling in the substance; standing up was impossible, and with their bodies soaked in oil, they were both too slippery for the other to get a good hold on.  Headlocks, bearhugs and bodyscissors were now useless.  Earlier in the match, their manes could be grasped, but soon enough there was so much oil in their hair, there was no way to hold a solid grip on the strands.

The struggle had proven both frustrating and exhausting, and now both buxom beauties were subsisting on their last dregs of strength.  They had been reduced largely to slaps and punches, but the drain on their power now left their arms so leaden, neither could muster enough energy to land effective blows any longer.

The same thought burned in the mind of each beauty:  "If only there was some way to get a hold on that bitch...!"

And then Penny's eyes seemed to twinkle, as if she had a brainstorm.  Sitting down, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black thong and tugged it down her legs until she removed it completely, leaving herself nude, much to the appreciation of the elite spectators.  Max was momentarily perplexed, then she gave a crooked half-smile and rasped, "Stripping yourself?  Good...saves me the trouble after I beat your bimbo ass!"

Penny said nothing in reply, instead getting to all fours and crawling toward her hated rival, thong clutched in her right hand.  Max also began to crawl toward Penny, and when the blonde and brunette finally met in the center of the pool, they both snarled and threw themselves at one another.  Their oily bodies squirmed together, rolling back and forth, until finally Penny managed to get behind the kneeling Max.  She then revealed why she had stripped herself, wrapping the thong...the only object she can hold tightly...around Max's throat to strangle her!

Eyes wide with panic, the New York brunette gasped and gurgled for air, her fingers clutching haplessly at the garment wrapped tight across her windpipe.  But as spent as she is, it isn't long before her eyelids flutter shut and her body goes limp.  Penny releases her chokehold and Max flops face-first to the floor, devastated.

To claim her victory, the L.A. blonde now yanks her beaten rival's thong down her legs, leaving Max as naked as Penny, as the crowd cheers the flaxen-haired beauty's triumph.

[Jackflash Jump]

HWA:  Lacey Chabert vs Kyla Pratt



The fans were stunned by the spectacle that was unfolding before their eyes.  Both Lace and Kyla had never been afraid to fight rough, but tonight their match rapidly deteriorated into a Pier One brawl!

The announcers had no explanation for it.  Neither woman had ever fought the other before, so there was no preexisting bad blood between them.  The only conclusion they could come to was that some people simply generate a volatile chemistry between them, resulting in unexpected violence.  And there was no doubt that Pratt and Chabert were plunging deep into that violence as they each battered and beat one another both within the ring and, when the action would spill through the ropes, to the ringside floor!

The brawl was nearing the fifteen minute mark, the two beauties battered and bruised and straining against the limits of their endurance.  Suddenly the tide seemed to turn forcefully in Lacey's favor:  Kyla had attempted to Irish Whip her opponent into the corner, but Chabert had reversed it, and it was Pratt whose spine was smashed hard into the turnbuckle.  Rushing at her momentarily stunned foe, Lacey drove her shoulder hard into Kyla's belly, winding her.

Chabert then lifted each of her adversary's legs up, draping both over the middle ropes on either side of her, while Pratt's arms were draped over the top ropes, holding her in place.  Lacey then trotted to the opposite corner and drew a huge pop from the crowd when she signaled for a Wrecking Ball Bodysplash.  The brunette suddenly began to dash across the canvas, racing toward her target, intent on using her own body to smash all of the remaining fight out of Pratt, and end the match once and for all.

Hung up in the cables as she was, Kyla was unable to throw herself out of the way...but that didn't mean she was helpless.  At the last moment, she pulled her arms away from the ropes, and although her legs still rested on the middle strands, she threw herself downward, hanging upside down in the corner.  The result was that her attacker, unable to halt her charge, found her chest slamming into the empty turnbuckles, and not into her victim.

A combination whoosh of air and wail of pain escaped Lacey's throat as she stumbled backward, hands clutching her chest as her cheeks rapidly puffed in and out as she tried to regain her breath.  Kyla had a few seconds to pull her legs free, and then scramble back up to her feet.  She lunged at Chabert, landing a forearm blow across her gasping opponent's chest, and sending the brunette crashing to the mat.

Moving with all of the haste she could muster, Pratt dropped to her knees and shoved Chabert over onto her belly.  She then bent her opponent's legs back at the knees, pressing one ankle over the other, and sitting on Lacey's feet to keep her legs painfully pinned down.  Kyla then cupped her left hand under the brunette's chin and yanked her head back until Lacey's face was upturned to the arena ceiling.  Pratt then began drilling elbow strikes into her victim's forehead with her right arm, leaving the wailing Chabert glassy-eyed and hapless.

Next, Kyla converted the chin hold into a Rear Naked Choke, and Lacey gurgled for breath.  Panic-stricken at the realization that she would soon be knocked out, Chabert began to furiously tap at the canvas, signaling her submission, and the referee called for the bell.

But Pratt wasn't finished just yet.  Releasing her hold, she stood up, pulling the bedraggled Lacey up by her hair.  "Everybody calls you the Suplex Queen," Kyla sneers with a smirk at her rival.  "Here, lemme show you how it's really done, baby girl!"

Securing the dazed brunette in a Front Facelock, Pratt then executed a textbook Fisherwoman's Suplex, slamming Lacey to the mat in a ring-shaking drop, and leaving the moaning Chabert starfished on the canvas, devastated by her own signature move.

To add insult to injury, Kyla placed her right boot upon her defeated rival's heaving chest and only then allowed the referee to raise her arm in victory.

*****

FLASHBACK 1977:  Jane Seymour vs Morgan Fairchild




The blonde's yowls of painful protest filled the room, as Jane stood proudly, holding Morgan by the legs, and tormenting her in a Standing Backbreaker.  Confident of impending triumph, the Brit gave a satisfied smile to her many devotees among the elite spectators of this catfight.

But the cunning Fairchild wasn't finished quite so soon.  Blocking out the pain to her spine, she managed to grab her opponent's left ankle and pull her upper body close enough so that the blonde could suddenly sink her teeth into the back of Jane's heel.  Startled, Seymour let out a shriek and instinctively let her adversary's legs go, then tried to pull her foot free of Morgan's teeth.  As a result, the English battler lost her balance and crashed to the mansion floor.  But at least she had broken loose from the bite.

Face flushed with anger, Jane spat out, "You wretched cur!", and then decided to return the favor by grabbing Fairchild's nearest ankle, pulling her foot close, and chomping her own teeth down on the blonde's toes!  Morgan gave a shriek of her own, but she also managed to respond virtually simultaneously, lashing out with her other leg, the sole of her foot slamming into the side of Jane's head.  The Brit gave a sharp yip and then collapsed to her side, stunned.

With a leopard's stalking grace, Morgan crawled to her rival and pushed her flat onto her back.  Climbing atop the brunette to keep her pinned down, Fairchild then clamped her thighs around Seymour's head with a Reverse Headscissors, the brunette's chin pressed against her tormentor's butt as the blonde locked her ankles and began tightening her python embrace.

Shocked from her daze, Jane's eyes widened in horror as she realized her predicament.  Her hands frantically slapped and tugged at her opponent's thighs, but to no avail.  Adding to her distress was the fact that Morgan now also applied Clawholds to the tender inner thighs of the Brit, sending cascading waves of pain down her legs, and further sapping what dwindling power she had left in her lithe frame.

Sweat glistened upon the bodies of both beauties as their grunts and gasps filled the air, but the Cheshire smile on Morgan's face made it clear to all that she knew the triumph would soon be hers.

Jane mewled in distress, her face going from red to darker shades, tears filling her eyes, as finally she whimpered, "No more...p-please...I beg you...STOP!"

But Morgan wasn't feeling very generous.  "Sorry, sweetheart, but this fight goes to a knockout!" she purred, her magnificent thighs tightening ever-harder around her victim.  Jane pleaded for mercy, but her begging merely drove Fairchild on to subject her adversary to even more torment.

Finally, inevitably, Seymour's eyes fluttered shut, and her body went completely limb as she was squeezed into ignoble unconsciousness.  Morgan found the effort had so depleted her, she was unable to even stand up.  But it didn't matter...the men in the audience practically fell over themselves to tenderly lift her up and place her on a leather chair, as a Queen sat upon her throne, while the beaten body of her victim was carried away to a bedroom, where she would dream of revenge.