Beauties VS Beasts

11:36 Georgia_Ellenwood: I have been quite the busy lady since my last defeat to you, and so have you. While I've been growing my resume with wins on wins, and getting better and better, your monstrous momentum has not yet stopped. Mr double champ, you humbly put your Beauties and beasts championship on the line, and I am ready to fight for it, and better yet... win it! Coming to the ring with thr crowd just as pumped as before, I'm wearing one of your weaknesses... a two piece bikini that shows all the hard work I've been doing in prep for such a big match. My respect for you has grown, and so has my desire to beat you... now it is up to me to follow through with what I want mentally - the win

11:36 Georgia_Ellenwood:

11:36 Georgia_Ellenwood:

11:44 Biff_the_Bruiser: I come out making my way to the ring, hearing the cheers and whistles for my beautiful blonde opponent as i enter......whereupon the cheers change to boos. Noting your skimpy black bikini as i start warming up...clearly intended to distract me from my work. I hand my Beauties and Beasts championship belt to the ref, who raises it high in the air, then places it on the apron as we are both announced to the crowd. "This will be a title match to be won by pinfall or submission.....with no time limit." Then we both return to our corners to await the bell. Despite your distracting beauty, I am determined to put you down like last time and retain my title!

11:44 Biff_the_Bruiser:

11:52 Georgia_Ellenwood: My back presses into the corner as I roll my shoulders, eyes locked on you the whole time, taking in every detail — from the flex of your thick arms to the look in your eyes that tells me you're here to dominate, again. But I’m not the same woman you beat last time. I smirk, just slightly, and brush a strand of hair off my cheek as the ref steps between us and raises the belt. That glint of gold... it's why I'm here. That presence of yours. It's why I’ve trained till my muscles screamed. Why I’ve gone through match after match with tougher and tougher competition, building toward you.

11:52 Georgia_Ellenwood: You glance at my outfit — I see it. I wanted you to. The black bikini shows off the cuts in my midsection, the sculpted legs I’ve pushed to the limit, and the kind of confidence that only comes from grinding harder than anyone else. You think it’s a distraction? No, Biff. It’s a statement. It’s proof that I’ve prepared every inch of me for this. And maybe for the distraction too🤭

11:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: "You’re stronger, Biff. Heavier. More experienced. But tonight…" I raise my voice just enough to carry over the crowd noise, my tone sharp and focused. "Tonight you’re not fighting the girl you pinned last time. You’re fighting the woman who learned from it — and who’s going to outlast you, out-think you, and leave you staring at the lights while I hold your belt over your chest." I take one last deep breath as the bell looms. I’m not going to try and overpower you. I know better. I’m going to use your own power against you — let you come to me early, wear you down with movement, precision, and resilience. Make every slam cost you oxygen, make every hold force you to chase. I'm going to make you sweat for every second, and then I'm going to strike when you least expect it.

11:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: The bell rings. I explode out of the corner low and fast — not recklessly, but sharp, staying just outside your grip, testing how quick those 212 pounds can move off the mark. One step, two, I feint left and dip right, circling, making you turn — wanting to force you to work already.

11:59 Biff_the_Bruiser: The bell sounds and you come charging out of your corner, showing of your speed.....circling around the ring and impressing the crowd. But i know this fight will be a marathon not a sprint and i need to conserve my energy. I raise my muscled arms high in the air and move toward you slowly. Waiting for you to make the first move. "Good luck with that plan Georgia!" i say taunting you. "I am undefeated in B&B for a reason!"

12:04 Georgia_Ellenwood: I hear your taunt—loud and clear—and it earns the smallest grin from me as I keep circling, my bare feet light on the canvas, my skin already glistening under the lights from that little surge out of the gate. The crowd’s eating it up, but I’m not just putting on a show. I’m studying you. Your guard’s up, arms flexed and ready, but your feet… they’re heavy. Planted. Deliberate. You’re waiting for me to come to you—just like last time. And last time, that worked. Not tonight.

12:05 Georgia_Ellenwood: “You’re undefeated because people keep walking straight into you,” I call back, never stopping my motion. “But I’m not here to play by their rules. I’m here to break yours.” I slow just enough to bait your eyes. My hips shift like I’m about to lunge in for a collar tie or low grab—and the moment your shoulders twitch forward in anticipation— I pivot sharply on my heel and sprint at the ropes instead. I rebound off the far side, using the tension to launch myself into a lightning-fast baseball slide—not toward your feet but past them. While you brace expecting a low tackle or dropkick to the knee, I whip around as I slide just outside your reach, grabbing for your ankle as I go past to try and unbalance your rear leg.

12:05 Georgia_Ellenwood: If I can hook it clean, I’ll yank hard enough to make you stumble forward—maybe even force a one-knee drop—and from there? I’m already scrambling up to my feet behind you, aiming to spring onto your broad back, trying to wrap my arms around your head and shoulders for a quick, jarring rear sleeper clutch—not to tap you, but to throw your rhythm completely off. Make you feel like you’re already in trouble with a better Georgia before you’ve even landed a blow. Let’s see if you stay calm, or if the champ starts to sweat early.

12:12 Biff_the_Bruiser: You come bouncing off the ropes as if youre going for a clothesline or a spear but then hit the deck sliding past me and grabbing at my ankle to throw me slightly off balance .......i stumble a bit but manage to stay on my feet, even as you get behind me and jump onto my back, wrapping your arms around my thick neck and squeezing me hard as you can, feeling those nice tits of yours pressing against me. The crowd loves it but if they think that gonna beat me, they are sorely mistaken. I twist my body around as far as i can and start throwing elbows back at your ribs or whatever i can hit.

12:20 Georgia_Ellenwood: I feel your body jerk and twist underneath me—your strength raw and real—and the second those elbows start flying back, I know I’ve got only seconds before one lands flush enough to knock the wind out of me. But I didn’t climb on your back to hang on and pray. As your thick arm swings back again, I shift my grip—not to squeeze harder, but to slide one forearm across the base of your neck, my wrist bone digging right into the pressure point between your spine and trap. I ride the movement of your twist, adjusting with you like a backpack you can’t shake. I know I can’t outmuscle you... but nerves don’t care about size.

12:20 Georgia_Ellenwood: My other hand snakes up behind your ear, and I press my knuckles in deep right where the skull meets the neck—right on that tender nerve cluster. You throw another elbow and it scrapes my side, but I grit my teeth and drive my knuckles harder, pushing at that sensitive spot like a surgeon aiming for a shutdown. The crowd can feel it too—cheering louder not because I’m dominating, but because they know this is strategy. This is the kind of thinking that wins titles. Your elbow swings start to slow, just for a moment—instinct trying to protect the nerves more than the ribs—and that’s my chance. I kick off the back of your thigh, trying to tilt your balance just enough to let my momentum pull us both backward into a controlled fall. If I can drag you down to the mat with me wrapped around your upper back, I’ll torque your neck again with my forearm across the base—not to finish, but to wear you down, to drain that monstrous frame early. The war’s not won with a single strike. It’s won by making your body stop trusting itself. One nerve at a time.

12:31 Biff_the_Bruiser: I feel my elbow strikes starting to have some effect but you adjust your body and hang on to stubbornly working the back of my neck with your forearm. Annoying but nothing that i cant withstand. Then You kick the back of my meaty thigh and try to pull us both down to the mat but i resist the effort , using my superior body weight, and instead move us backwards toward the corner before attempting to slam your slender body hard into the turnbuckle and knock you off your perch.

12:36 Georgia_Ellenwood: I feel the shift in your footing the second your weight drops back—not stumbling, but planting, anchoring—using that raw 212-pound frame to deny gravity, to deny me. You don’t fall. You drive. The ring shakes with your steps as you backpedal fast, dragging me toward the corner like a freight train dragging a hitchhiker. I know what’s coming: the turnbuckle. Hard. Unforgiving. And if you slam me into it full-force, my spine’s going to pay the toll. So I make a decision—I don’t wait. I strike.

12:37 Georgia_Ellenwood: As your momentum builds for the slam, I snake my left arm around your jawline and with my right arm—already coiled tight near your throat—I slam my elbow forward, aiming right for the side of your neck and base of the throat, the sweet spot where your collarbone and windpipe nearly meet.I don’t need to crush it. I just need to shock you—make your airway skip for a beat, make your legs hesitate for even half a step.

12:37 Georgia_Ellenwood: If I feel the hit land and your body falter, I’ll slip off your back instantly, drop to one knee behind you, and go low—sweeping the back of your knee with mine, trying to take a leg out from under you and bring the beast down. But if the blow doesn't slow you? If I feel your grip tighten and your step stay true? Then I brace for impact, teeth clenched as your body slams me into the turnbuckle with full force. My back arches on instinct, muscles screaming from the jolt, but even as I gasp—I don’t let go. Because even if you’re stronger... I’m harder to kill... and you know that last time out.

12:45 Biff_the_Bruiser: I feel your elbow striking my neck as you desperately try to prevent the oncoming impact with the corner post, bringing a sharp pain with it. But i wont be denied now, slamming you back against the post with all the force i can muster, then feeling your bikini clad body slowly slump down to the canvas. The crowd looking disappointed now as i am free of your grip. Then quickly turning to stomp your belly with my size 12 boot before you can regain your footing.

12:51 Georgia_Ellenwood: WHAM. My body jerks violently as I hit the turnbuckle—shoulder blades and lower back taking the worst of it—and the breath rushes out of me in a single, sharp gasp. I feel the canvas under my feet blur for a moment, the sound of the crowd dipping into a hush of concern as I slide down the corner, my arms slack around the ropes, bikini-clad body slumping to a seated position, chest rising and falling in staccato bursts. But even in that daze, I hear your boot scrape the mat.

12:51 Georgia_Ellenwood: I know what’s coming. Instinct kicks in. As your size 12 boot stomps down toward my stomach, I snap my body to the side, just enough to avoid taking the full brunt. It still grazes my ribs, drawing a grunt and a red graze mark to show —but not the clean shot you were hoping for. I grab the middle rope as I shift, using it to yank myself sideways and roll out of the danger zone, trying to come to a low crouch just a foot or two from the corner. Still catching my breath, I don’t go for a full stand yet—I launch forward instead from the crouch, trying to drive my shoulder straight into the side of your standing leg, low and fast like a bullet, hoping to chop down the support before you can press the attack again. I’m not trying to lift or throw—I know better than to match you in power this early. I’m just trying to disrupt, to sting, to create a crack in your rhythm. Because this fight isn’t about trading finishers—it’s about finding the smallest holes in your armor and digging into them, one gasp at a time.

13:01 Biff_the_Bruiser: You recover quicker than i anticipated, avoiding the brunt of my stomp ........then getting to your knees and attempting to drive your shoulder into my leg ufffffff....but i grab your long blonde hair with one hand to yank your head down, then slam my other fist hard as i can onto the back of your neck trying to send you down to the mat in a heap. "You think youre gonna dominate me girl? sorry, its not gonna happen" i say with a low growl.

13:01 Biff_the_Bruiser:

13:07 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your fingers tangle tight in my hair before I can drive through your leg, jerking my head down with brutal force—my neck snaps forward awkwardly, and before I can even plant a foot to counter, your fist hammers down into the back of my neck. THWACK. White flashes across my vision. My arms go weak for a beat, and I drop forward to the canvas, one shoulder slapping the mat first, my cheek hitting second. My body sprawls on its side, legs bent, chest rising and falling with uneven rhythm, the force of your strike leaving me rattled. I hear your growl. I feel your breath above me. But even through the daze… I smile.

13:07 Georgia_Ellenwood: Not fully—just a twitch at the corner of my lips. Because this is exactly where I knew you’d try to take it. This is your world, your dominance. The power game. And I’ve already planned for it. As you loom above me, just a half-second from reaching down again, I jerk my hips sideways and roll onto my back—not away from you, but toward you. My legs coil and snap upward, aiming to trap your arm between my thighs and lock my ankles behind your shoulder—a sudden triangle position from the mat. It’s not clean, it’s not perfect—but it’s fast and desperate, and right now, that’s enough.

13:07 Georgia_Ellenwood: I swing my hips and pull down hard, trying to bend your posture forward and crank your neck awkwardly while choking your blood flow just enough to stall your attack. The crowd rises with a fresh surge of energy, seeing me scrap from the mat—fighting with every ounce of ring IQ I’ve got. "You hit hard," I rasp, my voice hoarse but defiant, "but I don’t break that easy, champ." Now let’s see if you can wrestle your way out of this… or if brute force is all you’ve got.

13:22 Biff_the_Bruiser: I smile as i see you dazed from my brutal strike. You roll onto your back and reach up with your legs, trying to trap my arm but still too weak to accomplish that. Instead I get my muscled arms around you and hoist you up high in the air to set you up for a power bomb..........muscles working hard, sweating with the effort.....then BAM ! down you go, hitting the mat with a big thud, leaving you laying on the canvas groaning in pain. The crowd looking worried for the challenger now.

13:22 Biff_the_Bruiser:

13:29 Georgia_Ellenwood: My legs shoot up out of instinct, trying to trap something—anything—but they’re slow, uncoordinated, and you bat them aside with ease. I barely register the shift before your thick arms scoop under me and suddenly— I’m airborne. My stomach turns as I’m lifted high above your shoulders, the lights blinding for a split second as sweat drips from my chin, my limbs heavy and dangling. I feel your grip tighten, your muscles straining, glistening under the lights from the sheer effort of holding me up like a trophy. And then—BAM.

13:29 Georgia_Ellenwood: My back explodes against the canvas with a sickening thud. The air is ripped from my lungs, my arms flopping out to the sides as my body jerks once and then goes still, legs bent awkwardly beneath me. My mouth opens but no sound comes out, just a rasp of breath as I roll slightly to one side, groaning. The crowd’s reaction is instant — shock, concern. I hear them, muffled, like I’m underwater. I blink, staring up at the ceiling lights through blurry eyes, the pain blooming across my spine and ribs like fire. My chest heaves, trying to catch a rhythm, trying to remember how to breathe after that slam. Right now, I’m not thinking about the title. I’m thinking about getting back up. Because if I don’t, this match is already slipping away. But my body isn’t cooperating. Not yet.

13:35 Biff_the_Bruiser: My big slam leaves your flat on your back, moaning and struggling for air. I kneel over you, breathing a bit hard myself after my huge effort to put you on the canvas. Then falling forward across your chest, enjoying the feel of your sexy body underneath me as i press my left arm across your shoulders, at the same time lifting those smooth legs of yours high with my right. "You gave it a good try Georgia .......but no cigar!" The ref moves into position and counts .......

13:35 Biff_the_Bruiser: ONE.....

13:35 Biff_the_Bruiser: TWO.....

13:41 Georgia_Ellenwood: ONE…! TWO…!! THWACK! I explode out from under you with a full-body jolt, twisting my shoulder free and kicking my legs out hard enough to throw you slightly off balance. The crowd roars to life as my body arches and rolls to the side, breaking the pin with a surge of pure instinct and defiance.

13:41 Georgia_Ellenwood: I land on my stomach, cheek pressed to the mat, chest heaving with every strained breath—but my fists are clenched now. My legs twitch, alive again. That powerbomb hurt, and I'm still feeling every inch of it down my spine, but that count? That second slap of the mat? It woke something in me. I push up to my knees slowly, still trembling, sweat streaking down my body, hair clinging to my shoulders. I glance over at you with a grimace twisted into a smirk.

13:41 Georgia_Ellenwood: “You’re gonna need more than muscle and a smooth pin to put me away, champ…” The crowd starts chanting again—“GEOR-GIA! GEOR-GIA!”—and as the noise builds, I rise just a little more, not standing fully yet, but showing you and everyone else... I’m not done. Not even close.

13:47 Biff_the_Bruiser: You kick out just in time, rolling over onto your belly. Then getting up to your knees looking defiant but a bit tired now, despite your brave boast. Chest heaving with every breath which is somewhat distracting. I get to my feet, giving you a smile. "I wasnt ready to call it a day anyway.......So bring it on babe!" Slowly moving toward you.

13:56 Georgia_Ellenwood: I’m on my knees, chest rising and falling in sharp rhythm, the burn in my back still pulsing from the slam—but my eyes are locked on you, sharp and burning with that fire that refuses to go out. Sweat trickles down my temple, past the curve of my cheek, but I barely notice it. You rise, smiling, casual… like I’m just something to finish off when you're ready. But I’m still here. Knees planted, fists curled against the mat, spine straightening despite the ache. You call me babe—and that smile? That easy confidence? That’s all I need to see.

13:57 Georgia_Ellenwood: “Cute,” I mutter, breathless but steady. “Let’s see how well you smile with your ribs caved in.” And with that—I burst upward from my knees, not into a wild charge, but a quick pop-up with my right leg first, using the momentum to swing a snapping roundhouse kick toward your side—your ribs, exactly where your arms aren’t fully guarding as you stroll in relaxed.

13:57 Georgia_Ellenwood: It’s not a knockout shot, but a statement—a sudden, sharp stinger meant to cut your breath and remind you that the woman in front of you might be tired, bruised, aching… But she’s dangerous, and she’s still swinging. If the kick lands clean, I’ll follow it by stepping in tight, trying to catch your head in a clinch and rip a quick knee up into your gut—nothing fancy, just raw, grinding offense to slow your momentum. But if it doesn't land? Then I'm sure the champ will show why he's the bruiser...

14:07 Biff_the_Bruiser: You finally get to your feet and surprise me with a roundhouse kick that catches me in the ribs before i can strike, slowing my momentum. Following by grabbing my head and kneeing me hard in the gut ooooofff. That one i definitely felt. But it brings you closer, with range of my power. I waste no time in trying to counter by shoving you back a bit to create some space then bringing my muscled right arm down into a hard chop to your chest, right btwn your breasts.

00:36 Georgia_Ellenwood: The moment your palm shoves into me, I stumble back a half step—just enough for space to open between us—and in that split second, I know what’s coming. CRACK! Your thick, muscled arm slashes down across my chest like a lightning bolt, the meaty thud of impact echoing through the arena as your chop hits flush—right between my breasts. “AAAUHH!!” My body jolts, back arching instinctively as a spray of sweat bursts off my chest. The pain blooms like fire under my skin, and I stagger backwards, clutching my chest with one arm as I breathe in sharp, broken gasps. My legs stay under me, but they’re shaking now—not just from the slam earlier, but from that chop. My skin is already reddening, the sting radiating out in hot pulses.

00:36 Georgia_Ellenwood: But even as I grimace, even as my breath catches in my throat—I don’t fall. I circle sideways, shaking the ropes once to keep my footing, eyes wide but defiant. I point right at you, still holding my chest, voice cracking through the roar of the crowd. “Okay… that one… that was nasty,” I huff with a pained grin. “You want a receipt for that, big guy?” I know I need a second to breathe—but I also know you’ll give me none. So instead of resetting, I plant my boot and explode forward again, ducking low—not to strike, but to fake a takedown shot, hoping to make you brace. Then, in the moment your arms twitch downward, I twist to the side and try to snap off a spinning back elbow toward your jaw, using your own aggression and power-hungry range against you. If it lands? Maybe I create space. If it doesn’t? I’m in deep with the beast.

11:03 Biff_the_Bruiser: My big chop hits you hard, causing you to emit a satisfying cry as you stagger back, sweat flying everywhere. To your credit you attempt to make a joke about it. "Plenty more where that came from babe" I reply. I set myself, getting ready for your counter attack but your initial move is a fake, then you move to the side to send an elbow strike at my big jaw. But my moving my head just a fraction, i avoid the worst of it as your elbow impacts my shoulder. Still painful but bearable. And leaving you very close again, enabling me to wrap my meaty arms around that slender waist of yours and pull you back against my massive chest to apply a bearhug on you.

21:39 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your arms clamp around my waist like a hydraulic vice, dragging me back into your broad, sweat-slick chest. My boots scrape at the mat but there’s no give—just the tightening grip crushing into my ribs, folding my abs in with brutal pressure. “NGHH—ahhh!!” My head snaps back, mouth open as I gasp for breath that just isn’t coming. Your forearms are like steel cables, and I can feel the strength in your posture—shoulders locked, stance wide. You’ve got me right where you want me.

21:40 Georgia_Ellenwood: But I’m not staying here. I ball up my right fist, then snap it backward with a sharp twist of my torso—trying to drive the point of my elbow up into the side of your head. You're a beast, but no beast can tank sharp elbows to their temple unless they're a god. I don’t have the space for full power, but even a glancing shot might force you to readjust your grip at the least. That—that half-second of readjustment—is what I’m after.

10:27 Biff_the_Bruiser: I squeeze you harder and harder, i hear you struggling for breath and i know i am closing in on victory now if i can just keep you trapped a little longer. Your arms and legs flailing but not doing you any good. Sweat rolling down my face and getting into my eyes, but i dont care.....ive got you locked into a steel vise! The ref taking a close look in case you want to tap. But then your elbow hits the side of my head, just hard enough to be annoying. Then again and again as you desperately try to break free. The crowd is behind you but I hang on, trying to maintain the hold as long as i can. Hoping that a few more seconds of pain will force you to submit....or just pass out!

10:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your arms tighten like a steel trap, crushing deeper into my ribs with each passing second. My lungs scream for air, chest rising in short, shallow bursts as I struggle in your grip—legs kicking, arms flailing, sweat dripping from every inch of my skin. The ref’s crouched nearby, checking my eyes, watching my hands. I’m this close to blacking out. But not yet. I grit my teeth and bring up my elbow—trying to drive it into the side of your head, again and again. The first strike isn’t clean, just enough to sting. The second, maybe sharper. The third? I throw it with desperation, aiming to hit the exact same spot on your temple to break your rhythm—just enough to make you hesitate.

10:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: And then I change tactics.I let my chest sink a little tighter against your chest, my breasts pressing onto you with my struggles slowing—not in surrender, but with intent. My head turns slightly, lips near your cheek, voice husky and breathless from the choke of your embrace: “Mmm… Biff… if you wanted me breathless, you could’ve just asked…” Then I follow up by pressing my lips onto yours, hoping that a flicker of distraction lands.

10:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: I don’t know if it lands the way I want it to—but I try to use that flicker of distraction to my advantage. As soon as I feel the slightest shift in your focus—or even if I think I do—I whip my hips to the side, trying to slide partially down your body, attempting to jam an arm between your grip and my waist to pry myself free. If I can open even a sliver of space, I’ll try to twist into you and drop to one knee, hoping to escape your crushing bearhug before I fade.

11:04 Biff_the_Bruiser: Im determined to hang on despite your continued strikes at my head.......but now they are growing weaker. The ref looks ready to call for the bell, just as you turn your head toward me and find my mouth for a deep kiss.... at the same time Enjoying the feel of your shapely body, your breasts pressing against my muscled chest. Causing me to relax just enough to allow you to side down my body and fall to your knees.....escaping your fate, at least for the moment.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: My elbows keep swinging, slower now—each one weaker than the last. My body’s running on fumes, crushed against your chest, barely holding on. I hear the crowd getting nervous. I see the ref leaning in, just seconds from stopping it. And that’s when I play my card I don't use often. I turn my head slowly, my breath shallow, lips trembling as I lean in— —and kiss you. A deep, unexpected kiss. Not out of affection, but disruption—a spark of wild defiance in the face of near-defeat. My soft lips press to yours as my chest heaves against your solid frame, my body melting just enough to throw you off your rhythm.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: I feel it—the way your grip stutters for half a beat, the way your body instinctively responds to mine, distracted by the closeness, by the shock of the moment. And that’s when I move. As your hold slackens just slightly, I slip—my slick body sliding down yours, ribs aching, knees crashing to the mat as I drop free from your grasp. I collapse to a crouch, gasping, arms wrapped around my midsection, face flushed with sweat, pain, and heat. But I’m out.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: My head lifts slowly, hair clinging to my face as I look up at you—still standing, maybe stunned, maybe pissed, maybe confused. My lips curl into a breathless smirk. “That wasn’t a surrender, champ…” I suck in air through clenched teeth, still hurting, still reeling. “…that was survival.” And this match? Still. Not. Over.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: I stay low for a moment, one knee on the mat, clutching my ribs as I suck in air like it’s gold. My chest burns, my back aches, and my vision swims—but I’m free. That’s what matters. I glance up and see you still standing tall—broad, powerful, but thrown off just enough. You're trying to reset, but the heat from the kiss, the slick of sweat between us, the unexpectedness of it all has made your footing just a little uncertain. So I make my move.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: I push up off my knee and throw myself toward the ropes, using the bounce to rocket back at you—not with a wild clothesline or a reckless spear, but with control. As I close the gap, I drop low at the last second, trying to base out and sweep one of your legs with a low spinning kick aimed at your calf and ankle. It’s not about knocking you flat—though that would be a bonus. It’s about disrupting your base, creating enough separation to reset the match on my terms. If the kick connects and you stagger, I’ll roll to my feet and back off quickly, resetting in a low stance, eyes sharp, chest still heaving—but now in control of the tempo.

11:18 Georgia_Ellenwood: And if you don’t go down? Then I’m right there, close again—but this time alert, ready to duck or slide under if you try to grab me. Either way… the kiss bought me this window. And I’m going to use it.

11:30 Georgia_Ellenwood:

11:39 Biff_the_Bruiser: I watch as you move to the ropes, taking a moment to rest after my big effort to put you away. Seeing you bounce off the ropes back toward me, likely either for a clothesline or spear attempt. But now moving a lot slower than you did before. Possibly not realizing how much my bearhug weakened you. You drop low, going for a sweep of my leg, but i am able to dodge it, leaving you down and grasping at nothing but air. Leaving you open and vulnerable for a quick boot to your ribs.

11:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: I swing low, aiming to take your leg out from under you—but my body betrays me. My muscles are sluggish, my timing off. The bearhug did more than hurt me—it drained my explosiveness, and I’m only realizing it now as my leg sweep catches nothing but canvas. “Sh*t—” I try to recover, planting my hands to push back up—but in that moment, I feel it. THUD!

11:53 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your boot slams into my side with brutal precision, catching me right in the ribs—the same ones that were crushed in your grip. The pain is blinding. My mouth opens in a silent scream as I collapse onto my side, curling instinctively, one hand shooting to clutch my ribs while my legs kick out in agony. The crowd winces with me, some covering their mouths, others shouting for me to get up. But I don’t. Not right away. I roll to my stomach, gasping, teeth clenched, forehead pressing to the mat as I try to force the pain down—trying to remember where I am, what I’m fighting for. My legs twitch as I crawl weakly toward the ropes, one arm dragging behind as I sputter through shallow breaths. You caught me clean. I’m hurting. Vulnerable. But I'm not done. Not until the bell rings.

11:53 Georgia_Ellenwood:

12:05 Biff_the_Bruiser: My brutal kick connects, making you curl up in pain and gasping for air. I watch as you slowly crawl to the ropes, waiting until you halfway up, then getting behind you to force your head btwn the 2nd and 3rd ropes.....intending to choke you out. "dont worry babe, its almost over now " I chuckle as the crowd boos my dirty tactics. My strong grip on the ropes cutting off your air.

12:12 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your boot had already carved fire through my ribs, but when you grab me from behind, fingers forcing my head between the second and third ropes, it feels like a trap snapping shut. The rough cords dig into my throat as you pull back, your thick arms anchoring me in place while the ropes constrict like a noose. “Ghhhkk—!!” My eyes widen as the air cuts off again, legs kicking as I try to push off the mat, fingers clawing at the ropes, at your arms—anything to break the choke. My sweat-slick body writhes in your grip, breasts pressing against the ropes as I twist in desperation, hearing the crowd booing furiously behind the ref’s back. Your breath hits my ear with a chuckle and that smug line—“Don’t worry babe, it’s almost over now.” Almost. But not yet.

12:12 Georgia_Ellenwood: With my hands planted on the middle rope, I shift my hips back just enough to try something—anything. My leg kicks up blindly behind me, trying to catch you low, just above the knee or even into the inside of your thigh. It’s not pretty, not powerful—but if it lands, it might disrupt your balance just enough to loosen your grip.At the same time, I twist my body hard to one side, trying to roll free from between the ropes even if it scrapes my throat raw. If I can slip out and tumble to the apron or the floor, I’ll take the fall—just to breathe again.Because right now, the pain is blinding, my lungs are empty……and I’ll do anything to stay in this fight.

14:25 Biff_the_Bruiser: once again, i am closing in on victory with your head jammed btwn the ropes and my big hands around your lovely neck. Giving the fans a nice view of your impressive rack as they lay across the middle rope. But i know i have to be quick as the ref has started a count on me.....1....2.....3....4.........uh oh...... I am forced to let go and step back, even as your mule kick strikes my thigh owwww.......but unnecessary now as you tumble thru the ropes onto the apron, coughing and struggling to get your breath back.

14:26 Biff_the_Bruiser:

14:31 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your hands crush around my neck, the ropes digging in mercilessly as my chest is forced forward over the middle rope—my body on full display for the crowd, though all I can focus on is the burning in my throat, the panic rising in my lungs. I hear the count—one… two… three… four—but it feels like it’s coming from far away, drowned out by the pounding in my skull and the desperate gasps I can’t quite pull in. My arms dangle, legs twitching, mind spinning. Then—release.

14:31 Georgia_Ellenwood: You let go just before the five, and my body collapses forward, my mule kick striking your thigh on pure instinct. I hear you grunt, but I’m already slipping—tumbling through the ropes and landing awkwardly on the ring apron, half-sprawled, one arm clutching the bottom rope while the other goes to my throat. COUGH—COUGH-ughk! My body convulses with the effort to breathe, finally dragging in sharp, ragged gasps as I roll to my side. My face is flushed, hair clinging to sweat-slicked skin, and my ribs scream with every breath—but I’m alive. Barely.

14:31 Georgia_Ellenwood: I grab the apron skirt with one hand, holding on, my legs curled up and trembling. The crowd’s cheering me now—not because I’m winning, but because I survived. My voice is barely a rasp as I mutter under my breath. “Still… not over…” But right now? I can’t attack. I need these next few seconds to breathe, to recover… before the monster in the ring comes to finish what he started.

14:37 Biff_the_Bruiser: The ref has signalled that its ok to resume, so i come forward and reach over the ropes even as you lay on the apron trying to get some air back in your lungs. But no reason to let you recover, im thinking.......reaching over and grabbing for that nice long blonde hair of yours, trying to yank you up and back inside the ropes. "Come on Georgia, no time outs here.........time to get back to work" i say with an ominous tone. Ready to dish out some more punishment on that battered body of yours.

14:46 Georgia_Ellenwood: I hear your boots thudding toward me before I even lift my head. My lungs are still fighting to recover, chest heaving, the ropes sticky against my back from sweat. My vision's blurry—but I see your silhouette looming above, reaching over the ropes for me. And then I feel it—your hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat, my chest arching slightly from the pull. My body tenses on instinct—but I don’t resist. Not yet. You growl something ominous: “No time outs here… time to get back to work.”

14:46 Georgia_Ellenwood: I let out a shaky breath, let my head tilt back into your grip, and slowly—deliberately—I reach up and place one hand on your forearm, not to fight… …but to stroke it. Then I lift my eyes to yours, lips parted slightly, flushed cheeks still burning from the last assault, and I whisper just loud enough for you to hear: “…Mmm… maybe I like your idea of work…” Before you can process that, I lean in—my body still on the apron—and plant a kiss right on the underside of your jaw.

14:46 Georgia_Ellenwood: Soft. Quick. A breathy tease laced with just enough warmth to scramble the wires between domination and distraction. I feel it—the flicker of tension, your grip twitching. And that’s when I try to move. Using the grip you still have in my hair, I push up with my other arm to swing my leg around the middle rope, attempting to hook it behind your knee. If I can shift my weight just right, I’ll try to drag you forward, using your own leverage to trip you throat-first into the top rope while I fall back to the floor. It’s risky. My body’s still aching. But if it works? You’ll be reeling… and I’ll be on the outside, smirking, wiping my lips like it was all part of the plan.

15:10 Biff_the_Bruiser: I start to drag you back over the ropes by your hair but you grab my arm, then reach up to kiss my face......even with you all bruised and sweaty now, i cant help but enjoy that. Causing me to pause for an instant while you swing your leg up behind my head (not my knee!) then start pulling me down as you drop back down to the floor....my big body hanging over the ropes in a precarious position with my legs hooked on the top rope now as I struggle to get free......uhhhh.......leggo girl.........

15:42 Georgia_Ellenwood: I swing my leg up, wrapping it behind your head—not your knee this time—and then I drop hard, letting gravity take over as I fall backward to the outside. My back smacks the apron and then the floor, but I don’t care—because I feel you jerk forward above me. Your massive body tips, caught off balance, and suddenly you’re draped awkwardly over the top rope—legs straddling it, arms flailing, stomach sagging between the cables as your torso hangs above the apron. The crowd erupts, seeing the beast caught like a tangled net. I land on one knee on the outside, gasping, ribs screaming, but I pull harder, trying to wrench your neck and spine across the top rope like a slingshot, your weight working against you as the tension builds.

15:42 Georgia_Ellenwood: The ref immediately begins the count— ONE! TWO! I grit my teeth and shout up at you, breath ragged: “Still think it’s over, champ?!” THREE! I give one final tug on your head and neck before releasing— FOUR! —and let go, stepping back, panting and drenched, watching you recoil back into the ring or down—however you land. This wasn’t just about escaping. It was about leveling the playing field.

15:52 Biff_the_Bruiser: You let go just in time to avoid the DQ and i slump down to the apron, landing in a heap ungggghh.....dripping with sweat....slowly pushing back to my feet and rubbing the back of my neck which got wrenched badly. Grabbing onto the ropes for support as i take a few deep breaths. The ref is yelling at us to get back inside the ring, but i look down at you lying on the floor panting hard after your big move. Oh this cannot go unpunished, im thinking. Dropping down to the floor and grabbing your hair again to roughly yank you up. "Wanna give me another kiss Georgia?" i taunt you before attempting to slam your body against the side of the ring. Bringing more boos from the fans as i show off my power.

00:40 Georgia_Ellenwood: I'm still on the outside, hunched over on all fours, my chest heaving with each breath. Sweat drips from my chin onto the floor as I blink through the blur of heat and pain—my ribs still throbbing, my body aching from the hell you've put it through. But I got you. I brought you down. And now... you're coming for revenge. I hear your boots hit the floor behind me, and then—yank!—your fist grabs another handful of my hair, jerking my head back with enough force to make my spine scream. “AHH—!!” You taunt me with a sneer, your words brushing past my ear: "Wanna give me another kiss, Georgia?"

00:40 Georgia_Ellenwood: Even through the pain, I grin—blood on my lip, pride in my heart. “…Maybe after I break your teeth…” But I don't have time to fight. You haul me up and try to slam me into the apron—but I try to twist my torso just before impact, hoping to deflect the blow across my shoulder or hip instead of letting my ribs take the full brunt. Whether or not I succeed depends on how fast I can turn, how much control I can steal from your grip. If the slam lands clean, I’ll let out a sharp cry and slump down again, arms draped over the edge of the apron, body twitching from the shock.

00:40 Georgia_Ellenwood: But if I manage to absorb it on the side, I’ll try to latch one hand to the ring skirt—using it to pull myself around the corner post, aiming to bait you into chasing and give myself just enough room to turn this trap into another counter. Because one way or another? This kiss-and-war story isn’t done.

09:15 Biff_the_Bruiser: I try to slam you face first into the side of the ring, letting your big tits take the brunt of the impact and hopefully leaving you lying in a heap on the floor below me. Huffing and puffing with the effort of swinging your body thru the air. Sweat pouring down my muscular body, the crowd falling into stunned silence upon seeing your body impact the side of the ring.... WHAM! It takes a lot of effort, But thinking that after this, your story must be close to an end despite your determined effort to wrest my title away.

09:17 Biff_the_Bruiser:

21:36 Georgia_Ellenwood:

21:39 Georgia_Ellenwood: WHAM! My chest smashes into the edge of the ring—no time to twist, no space to brace. The sheer force of your swing bounces my body off the unforgiving apron with a sickening thud, and I collapse like a ragdoll onto the floor, arms splayed, legs folding awkwardly beneath me. The crowd goes silent—not out of indifference, but shock.

21:39 Georgia_Ellenwood: Some gasp. Others wince. A few scream my name. But I don’t hear them right away. All I hear is the ringing in my ears and the rattle in my lungs as I struggle just to breathe. I lie there on my side, body twitching from the impact, the front of my bikini darkened with sweat and the scuff of canvas burn. My arms instinctively wrap around my ribs, my chest rising and falling in uneven, stuttered breaths. I’m drenched, my skin slick, cheek pressed to the floor. Above me, I feel your presence—hear your breathing, that deep, heavy huff of effort after the massive swing you just landed. I don’t need to look to know what you’re thinking.

21:39 Georgia_Ellenwood: That it’s almost over. That the story of this match is nearly written. But lying there, coughing, barely able to move… my hand still reaches out. Not for you. For the apron. Fingers trembling, I grip it. Weakly. Desperately. Because even if I can’t stand yet—I’m not done. Not until you make me stop or finish me completely. Not until the bell forces me to.

08:49 Biff_the_Bruiser: I take a bit of a break while you are lying there twitching and moaning. You look in bad shape, but you dont appear to be ready to quit....even though you should. The ref has not started a count on us yet, even though we are both outside the ring. Apparently waiting to see if your gonna try to continue or throw in the towel. Finally there is some movement on your part as you reach up for the apron and start to pull yourself up. I almost feel sorry for you now......but then you wanted a shot at my title and this is the price you pay to get it.

08:53 Biff_the_Bruiser: I wait til you pull yourself up, almost on your feet but still leaning hard on the apron, your breath coming in ragged spurts. Then i strike with almost surgical precision, sending my right fist hard into your lower spine where I know it will do the most damage.

13:51 Georgia_Ellenwood: The floor is cold beneath me, the pain in my chest radiating outward with every breath. I can still feel the sting of the apron slam vibrating through my ribs. My limbs feel heavy, twitchy—like my body wants to shut down—but somewhere beneath all that hurt, there’s still a spark. Still a reason I dragged myself into this war. I hear the crowd’s anxious murmurs, the ref’s hesitation, your footsteps… and then your voice in my head, reminding me this is what I asked for. And you're right.

13:51 Georgia_Ellenwood: I did ask for this. My fingers tremble as they curl around the edge of the apron, and I slowly pull myself up. Inch by inch. My knees scrape the floor. My muscles burn. My jaw is clenched tight, and sweat drips from my chin like raindrops as I rise, chest pressed against the ring, my body hunched over it like it’s the only thing keeping me standing. I finally get my feet under me—barely. That’s when I feel it. CRACK!

13:51 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your fist slams into the small of my back with ruthless precision, and my whole body jerks forward, a strangled cry ripping out of me as pain lances through my spine. My knees buckle, and I collapse back to the floor in a heap, arms flopping out, breath stolen completely. "AAAGHHH—guhhh—!!" I writhe for a second, grabbing my lower back, feet dragging uselessly against the floor as I try to move—but my legs won’t respond right. I roll to my side, one hand stretched toward the apron like it might pull me back into the match, but the other clutches my spine, shaking. I’m not crying. Not begging. Not quitting. But right now? I’m damaged. And you just made that spark inside me a whole lot hotter.

16:37 Biff_the_Bruiser: My big fist finds its target and you let out a satisfying scream of pain, grabbing at your lower back before you sink back to the floor, collapsing in a heap looking pale and shaken. it appears that you cant even stand at this point, your legs flailing helplessly underneath you. I take my time climbing back inside the ring, standing at the ropes and enjoying a pre-celebration of my impending victory. The ref is ready to call for the bell, but i say "nah, give her a ten count ref........lets see if she has enough left to pull herself back into the ring. " The crowd's mood has turned sullen as it appears the blonde babe from across the pond is about to fail once again in her quest to unseat the Champ.

09:35 Biff_the_Bruiser: The ref is counting.......1........2.......3.......4.........5.........

14:52 Georgia_Ellenwood: One… two… three… four… five… The count echoes in my skull like a slow drumbeat.

14:52 Georgia_Ellenwood: I’m on the floor, crumpled, my back screaming with every micro-movement, my legs twitching like they’ve forgotten how to work. I can barely feel my boots scraping the mat, let alone control them. My hands grasp at the apron skirt like it's a lifeline, knuckles white, arms trembling under the weight of my own body. I hear the ref’s voice, but I hear yours louder. That smug tone, the way you relish this moment like the belt is already strapped around your waist again. The crowd is quieter now. Not silent, but worried. Some of them still chant my name—but it's fading, like they’re preparing to mourn me more than cheer me. I could stay down. I should stay down. But I won’t. Because I didn’t come here to be remembered for almost winning. I came here to take everything. Six…

14:52 Georgia_Ellenwood: I grit my teeth and plant one elbow beneath me, groaning through clenched teeth as I drag my upper body toward the apron. The sweat on my arms makes the canvas slick, but I find grip—just enough. My breathing is ragged, each inhale a war.Seven…I grab the middle rope, hand shaking, and I start to pull. My lower back screams, and I nearly collapse again—but I press my forehead to the apron, using it for balance, for focus. My boots finally plant under me, sliding but slowly stabilizing.Eight…I rise—not gracefully, not quickly—but I rise. I get to one knee, then two, holding the ropes with both hands now, arms trembling, body heaving like it’s on the verge of breaking. Nine… With a defiant cry, I lunge upward, throwing my upper body through the middle rope, rolling awkwardly back into the ring just before ten, landing on my side with a heavy thud. I lay there for a beat, eyes squeezed shut, one hand still gripping the bottom rope like I might float away without it. And then—I smile. Not at you. Not at the crowd. At the fact that I’m still in this match. Barely. But still.

17:12 Biff_the_Bruiser: The ref continues ......6....7....8....9.....he has his hand poised ready for the final count, ready to call for the bell when you come rolling thru the ropes and collapse on the mat, almost at my feet. Your bikini clad body looking totally spent as you gulp some air down into your thirsty lungs. I grab a towel from the corner and start fanning you in a mock attempt to revive you, but it doesnt appear that you can even get back to your feet! Lying there with your eyes closed, but with a strange smile on your pretty face.

17:15 Biff_the_Bruiser: No matter, i think to myself, you have just delayed the inevitable and also given me a nice chance to rest. I lean back against the ropes, my muscled frame relaxed now......biding my time .....waiting for you to get to your feet.....if you can. Getting some encouragement from the fans now but unfortunately they cant help you. Lying there trying to catch some air, your boobs rising and falling with each tortured breath,blonde hair plastered all over your face

22:11 Georgia_Ellenwood: The moment I roll under the ropes, the crowd erupts—but I barely hear them. The roar becomes a dull hum as I collapse flat on my stomach, cheek pressing into the canvas. My arms flop out at my sides, legs limp, chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged waves. Every breath burns. Every heartbeat thunders like it might tear through my rib cage. My bikini clings to me now—sweat-slick, dirtied from the war we’ve waged. My blonde hair is tangled across my face, soaked and wild, and my ribs pulse with each shaky inhale. In short, the cameraman is having a field day with the high level pics. And yet… even as I lie there—beaten, broken, breathless—I smile. Not because I’m winning. But because I haven’t lost. I feel the breeze of something wafting above me—your hand fanning me with a towel in mock kindness. I don’t react. I can’t yet. But that smug little gesture just adds fuel to the fire that’s still flickering in my gut.

22:12 Georgia_Ellenwood: The crowd sees it now, chanting louder, willing me to rise, to move, to prove that I’m not done. And deep down, I hear them. I need them. I shift slightly—just a twitch of my fingers at first, then my shoulder rolling in under me. My eyes blink open through the haze, catching sight of you lounging against the ropes, chest rising slow and easy while you watch me with that cocky calm like you’ve got the whole thing in hand. That’s your mistake. I don’t need to stand to strike. Still on the mat, I twist my body slowly, inching one leg beneath me, using the motion to coil—and suddenly, I spring upward just enough to aim a wild, desperate forearm at the side of your thigh or midsection. Not to hurt you—but to catch you off guard, to make you flinch, to remind you:

22:12 Georgia_Ellenwood: If I’ve got breath, I’ve got fight. Even if I’m flat on the canvas. Even if my body’s wrecked. Even if I’ve only got one good shot left.

11:42 Biff_the_Bruiser: I see you roll on your belly, desperately trying to get your hands underneath you despite your bikini barely still in place, your blond hair all askew. Panting hard as your contemplate getting up and resuming the bout, buoyed by the encouraging cheers of the crowd. Big breasts rising and falling as you suck in oxygen. I come off the ropes getting closer in anticipation of resuming, though its still not clear if you can even stand yet. But then you lunge forward, much quicker than i anticipated ......striking out with a forearm at my ribs. The crowd lets out a cheer, even though the punch is not enough to do any damage.....only bringing a surprised low grunt from me. I smile as i raise my fists, impressed by your fighting spirit. Then bring them both down in a hammerstrike btwn your shoulders just below the neck, intended to send you down flat on your face again!

12:18 Biff_the_Bruiser:

12:20 Biff_the_Bruiser:

00:24 Georgia_Ellenwood:

00:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: The moment my forearm connects—barely glancing your ribs, more heart than power—I hear the crowd ignite. It’s not about the damage. It’s about the defiance. Your grunt, that small break in your rhythm, is all the reward I need. My body’s barely holding together, bikini slipping from the chaotic war we've waged, hair tangled like seaweed across my face. I’m sucking down air like it’s oxygen straight from the gods, chest rising and falling with urgency, breasts bouncing slightly with every breath... But I’m alive. And you know it.

00:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: You smile, and I see it—respect. Just a flicker. And then, you bring your fists up - Bad sign. The moment your arms rise, I try to push up—try to react, but it’s too late. THUD! Both of your fists slam down between my shoulders like a sledgehammer, right below my neck. My entire upper body whiplashes, a stunned cry escaping my lips as I collapse face-first to the mat with a sickening thud. My arms fold beneath me, legs sprawled, and the crowd lets out a gasp as I go down hard.

00:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: My cheek presses to the canvas, body twitching, back spasming from the direct blow. My fingers claw weakly at the mat, trying to grip something—anything—to stop the world from spinning. My vision blurs... I don’t speak... I don’t taunt. But my fingers don’t stop moving. Even as I lie there, broken and breathless, I’m still reaching. Still clawing. Because if I’ve got anything left in my body… it belongs to this fight.

09:46 Biff_the_Bruiser: The force of my blow sends you crashing down again with a satisfying thud with your arms and legs sprawled out, that beautiful body of yours twitching in agony. I hear a low moan escape your lips as you desperately claw at the canvas gasping for air. It occurs to me as i stand over you enjoying your impending defeat that i could easily end the bout right now just by rolling you over and sitting down on top of you to get the 3 count. But no, this battle deserves a more definitive ending. So i reach down to grab the back of your bikini bottom and pull you back on your feet. Then quickly slide one arm btwn your legs and the other across your chest......hoisting you high in the air with a big grunt as i attempt to send you flying back across the ring with a fallaway slam! The crowd wondering at this point how much more punishment this blonde babe can take?

10:13 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your shadow looms over me as I lie there—arms limp, legs slack, my chest heaving against the mat, each breath dragged in like it costs a piece of my soul. My body is trembling, twitching from the impact of your last strike, and a broken, breathy moan slips from my lips as my fingers dig weakly at the canvas. The crowd watches in stunned silence, the energy gone somber, hearts sinking as they see me barely moving. It would be so easy for you now—just roll me over and pin me.

10:13 Georgia_Ellenwood: But I feel it when your hand grabs the back of my bikini bottom, yanking me up roughly, my body hanging almost weightless for a moment from the force of your lift. “Nnnghh—ahh…” I wince, legs dragging beneath me until I’m half upright—barely able to stand—before you scoop me up like a ragdoll. One arm between my thighs, the other across my chest. My head falls back, blonde hair trailing, my body limp but still trembling as you hoist me high above your shoulders. The lights blur overhead. My stomach drops. The crowd gasps.

10:13 Georgia_Ellenwood: And then—you launch me. You grunt with effort, and I feel myself fly—airborne for half a second before I crash to the mat, spine-first with a brutal thud. My body bounces from the impact, arms splaying, legs twitching in a mess of bare skin, sweat, and pain. The fallaway slam sends me tumbling across the ring, landing awkwardly near the opposite corner. I'm not moving. Not because I’ve given up. But because my body just won’t respond right now. The only thing I can do is curl an arm over my ribs, eyes fluttering, mouth barely forming the word: “…still… here…” Even if it’s barely a whisper, even if only the closest fans catch it... maybe you catch it too - I don't care, my mental defiance will continue until there is nothing left!

10:25 Biff_the_Bruiser: My muscles are working overtime now as i send you flying back overhead to crash awkwardly, your battered body bouncing up before settling again, that bikini top noticeably slipping down your torso now. Arms and legs sprawled as you lay near the corner, not even moving at this point. Trying to say something as the ref comes closer, asking if you want to continue. Once again on the verge of calling for the bell while i hover just behind him.....waiting to see if the match is over. If not, i am already planning my next move...flexing my big muscles in anticipation. But even some of the fans are yelling at you to quit now.

10:57 Georgia_Ellenwood: I’m flat on my back, every inch of me aching, the lights above spinning in slow, taunting circles. My chest rises and falls in jagged rhythm, lips parted, skin slick with sweat. My top—already strained from the punishment—has slipped lower across my torso, baring more than intended. I barely hear the crowd anymore… until the ref crouches beside me, his voice cutting through the fog. “Georgia… do you want to continue?” I blink once... Then twice...

10:57 Georgia_Ellenwood: And suddenly, my smile returns. Slow. Crooked. Defiant. I reach one trembling arm across my body, dragging the bikini top back up over my chest, giving it a quick, awkward tug to restore a shred of dignity. Then, still on my back, I raise a finger—not up to quit… but to the ref. “Mind giving me a hand with this?” I rasp playfully, nodding toward the back strap. “It’s a bit tricky after being thrown across a zip code.” The crowd lets out a mixed roar—part laughter, part disbelief, all admiration.

10:57 Georgia_Ellenwood: The ref hesitates, but helps fasten the strap back into place while I push myself up, groaning, legs shaky beneath me as I get to my feet, leaning against the ropes for support. My chest still heaves. My hair is a disaster. My body’s red from strikes, bruised from slams. And yet—I grin. Leaning back on the ropes, arms stretched along them, I blow you a kiss across the ring with a wink. “Aww, don’t tell me you thought that was gonna end it?” The crowd explodes, feeding off my unbreakable spirit. I’m hanging by a thread—but I’m still in this, and I want you to know it. So go ahead, Biff... do your worst.

11:07 Biff_the_Bruiser: The crowd roars as you get back to your feet.......slowly to be sure and looking like hell, with your bruised and battered body. Arms draped across the ropes and grinning at me for some strange reason, as if you were just taking a break leaning on the ropes . Then blowing a kiss at me. I return the smile and admit that i am impressed that you are even standing again, if rather fool hardy. "Ok babe, you asked for it." Taking a deep breath and moving toward you to grab you by the shoulders and pull you roughly against my chest, trying to plant your face against my sweaty pecs.

11:37 Georgia_Ellenwood: I watch you approach through the sting in my eyes, the taste of blood and sweat still thick in my mouth. Every breath is a burn, every muscle in my body screams, but I don’t back down. I lean on the ropes, arms draped lazily—but it's a lie. A mask. The grin on my face is bait. And you take it. You grab my shoulders roughly, yanking me forward into your chest—your sweat-slick pecs smothering my face, your arms closing around me like a vice again, confident, certain this is the moment you shut me down for good. But I knew you'd come close. I wanted you this close. My arms snap around your waist—not to hug, but to trap. I dig my fingers into the small of your back, feeling your thick frame brace just a little—and then I explode. I drive my knee up with everything I have left, aiming straight for your liver. It’s not pretty... But after everything you’ve put me through—every slam, every choke, every crushing shot—I’m going for damage. If I can catch you with that knee, make your legs falter or your arms drop even slightly, I’ll follow up immediately by grabbing the back of your head and trying to slam your face down onto the top rope, hoping to bounce your jaw hard and leave you stunned. I’m not trying to win pretty anymore. I’m trying to survive ugly. Because even the most beautiful underdog stories get bloodied before the bell.

11:47 Biff_the_Bruiser: I pull you in close against my big body, feeling every wonderful curve in your shapely body as i try to smother you against my massive chest. But at the same time you start digging your nails into my lower back, causing me to lean back in pain just enough to create some space, then you bring your knee up hard into my mid section arrggghh. I slump forward a bit allowing you to grab my head and slam my face down on the top rope unngghhh. Then bouncing back off the ropes staggering back holding my jaw. Trying to catch my balance before you can attack again. The crowd cant believe it!

12:00 Georgia_Ellenwood: The moment your head snaps back from the bounce off the top rope, I see it—your balance falters. Just a step. Just a sway. But after everything we’ve been through? That’s a crack in the armor. I can barely stand, ribs screaming, legs trembling, but I push off the ropes with raw instinct and adrenaline, chasing after you with that same defiant fire that’s kept me upright this long. You’re holding your jaw, trying to reset—but I’m not giving you the chance. I duck low as I approach, my shoulder tensed, my body coiled tight from desperation and calculation—and then I thrust upward, aiming a savage shoulder block right into the center of your chest or ribs.

12:00 Georgia_Ellenwood: Not to knock you down. To drive you back into the corner post—hard. If I can back you up into the turnbuckles with enough force, I’ll press in tight, grab the ropes on either side of your waist for leverage, and start raining brutal shoulder strikes into your core, over and over—each one short, sharp, aimed low under your pecs to keep you from catching your breath. I know I can’t match you shot for shot in raw power. But I can target you. Chop down your stamina. Pick the soft spots. Wear you out with relentless pressure while the crowd roars behind me, stunned by the blonde who just won’t stay down. I’ve got one shot to tip the tide. And I’m driving it through your chest.

12:11 Biff_the_Bruiser: I see you come charging off the ropes, not at blazing speed but amazing the crowd that you cant move as fast as you can. Luckily for you, my reactions are a bit slower now. I raise a big fist to take a swing at you as you approach but it goes sailing over your head while you ram a shoulder into the center of my broad chest ufffffff.....knocking me backward into the nearby corner, leaving me trapped momentarily while you use the ropes on either side to start slamming your shoulder into my solar plexus......again and again......working the most vulnerable spot on my big body with your new found energy oooooof.....unnnggghh........owwwwwww. My belly starting to ache while the crowd counts along with each brutal strike.

12:13 Biff_the_Bruiser: I need to get you off me and fast! I raise my right hand, trying for a hard smack against the side of your head. Hoping to slow you down!

12:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: The roar of the crowd builds with every shoulder I drive into your core—one! two! three!—and the sound of each impact echoes off your chest with a deep, punishing thud. My fingers clench tight around the ropes, my body moving on pure grit and adrenaline, the pain in my ribs forgotten for now as I hammer into your solar plexus again and again.You start to sag, and for the first time in this war, I feel you wilt.

12:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: But I know how dangerous you are—especially when cornered. And sure enough, your right hand comes up—a big, desperate swing aimed for the side of my head. I see it coming in my peripheral, but I’m already mid-motion—can’t pull back, can’t block clean. So I do the next best thing: I twist my body, tucking my chin and turning into the shot, trying to roll with it so your palm hits the upper part of my shoulder and neck instead of clean across my temple... SMACK! It still stings, hard. My head snaps sideways, blonde hair whipping from the force, and my footing stumbles for a heartbeat—but I don’t let go of the ropes.

12:24 Georgia_Ellenwood: I plant my boot against the middle turnbuckle behind you and push off, using the torque to twist and bring my opposite arm swinging up in a tight arc—trying to land a vicious forearm shiver right across your jaw or cheekbone as I break my grip on the ropes. A fast, rough receipt—designed to keep you stunned before you can follow up. If it lands clean, I’ll try to shoot my left knee up fast, looking to dig into the liver once more in the corner while you’re dazed - not pretty, but smarter than I've been, as if you've been beating sense into me🤭

12:44 Biff_the_Bruiser: You manage to avoid the full impact of my big smack as you twist your body away. Well, I never accused you of not being a smart girl! 😀 then coming back with a counter punch, a forearm shot to the side of my jaw with enough power behind it to make me feel it. But not quite enough to stop me from sending a counter strike, a quick left hook into your ribs with some mustard on it......just before you can dig that knee into my gut again, if it connects in time. "You've had your fun Georgia, now its my turn again!"

13:00 Georgia_Ellenwood: CRACK! My forearm connects with the side of your jaw, and for a second, I feel that satisfying jolt through my arm—the crowd explodes again, thinking maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally staggered the champ. But you don’t go down. You snap back with a fast left hook, and I see it coming just a blink too late.

13:00 Georgia_Ellenwood: THUMP! Your fist slams into my ribs, exactly where your bearhug had already crushed the fight out of me earlier. My eyes widen, mouth open in a sharp gasp as the pain pulses through my side like a lightning bolt. My body jerks to the right from the impact, nearly collapsing—but my knee was already in motion. Your shot hits just before it can land clean, but my body reacts anyway—driven by instinct and defiance. My leg snaps up, not at full force now, but with just enough follow-through to graze your side—scraping low across your torso instead of jamming hard into the liver like I intended.

13:01 Georgia_Ellenwood: It’s not the blow I wanted… but it’s still a warning. I stagger back a step, one arm wrapping across my ribs, wincing, my teeth clenched. My body’s folding slightly, sweat pouring off me, hair plastered to my face. That shot hurt. And your voice cuts through it like a blade: "You’ve had your fun, Georgia… now it’s my turn again." I spit to the side, wipe my mouth, and smile through the pain, shoulders rising as I suck in air... “You better make it count, Biff…”My eyes burn through the pain, focused, unbroken. Mind racing as the crowd is loving everything about this! “Because I’m still standing.”

13:12 Biff_the_Bruiser: My punch hits hard and i can see it takes a lot out of you, almost going down but not quite. You gamely try to return fire, That shapely knee of yours grazes my body, but just hard enough to cause a slight distraction. But now i am determined to put you away as you stagger backward. Still talking bravely thru the pain, but I see that now is my golden opportunity. "you are still standing girl....but not for much longer!" I reply. Moving forward and attempting to hoist you up across my massive shoulders, then spin you around a few times in the air to make you dizzy. Then flipping your body upside down to set you up for a piledriver. The fans fearing this is the end for the blonde beauty now, despite your battling spirit!

13:16 Biff_the_Bruiser:

13:22 Georgia_Ellenwood: Your punch rocks me, deep in the ribs, and it takes everything I’ve got not to crumble right there. My legs are unsteady, lungs barely keeping pace, but I stay upright—just barely—my body screaming and my pride the only thing holding me together. I see the shift in your eyes as you come for me. That change from dominance to execution. You’re done playing. You’re coming to finish this.

13:22 Georgia_Ellenwood: And I know if you get me up—if you lift me onto those massive shoulders and lock in that piledriver—It’s over. I have seconds. As your arms begin to wrap around me, I feint right, acting like I’m too weak to resist—my head dipping, knees buckling. I sell it just long enough to let your grip start to tighten—And then I burst into motion, throwing my weight backward and to the left, slipping under your arm and rolling out of the ring in one quick, gritty tumble. THUD!

13:22 Georgia_Ellenwood: I land on the floor hard, still clutching my ribs, gasping, falling to one knee by the barricade. But I’m out of your reach now. The crowd erupts—part cheers, part shock, all adrenaline. I push my hair out of my face, panting, smirking up at you from the floor, standing up and trying to control my breathing. “You’ll have to catch me before you break me, champ…” I know I bought myself only a few seconds. But in a fight like this? A few seconds is the difference between getting flattened and fighting back.

13:34 Biff_the_Bruiser: I hoist you up getting you almost across my shoulders as you play along initially, arms and legs flailing wildly and i am confident that i am closing in on victory, finally! But it seems you are playing a bit of possum as suddenly you slip free, sliding down my broad back.....then rolling for the ropes and outta the ring......avoiding your fate at least temporarily. I follow you outta the ring, normally i know you would be faster than me, but in your weakened state, i think i can catch you. I growl as i start chasing you around the ring, the crowd cheering you "GO GEORGIA........"

13:43 Georgia_Ellenwood: I hit the floor outside the ring hard, stumbling into a crouch with my arm still wrapped tight around my aching ribs. My heart's pounding, my skin slick with sweat, my top barely holding together after everything we’ve thrown at each other. But the moment I hear your boots thud onto the floor behind me—I grin. The crowd starts chanting my name, “GO GEORGIA! GO GEORGIA!” and I milk it. I look over my shoulder at you chasing after me, your thick arms pumping, jaw tight, and I can't help but laugh through the pain.

13:43 Georgia_Ellenwood: “Aww, come on, big guy!” I shout between ragged breaths, stumbling forward a few steps in a limp-jog. “You lift all those weights, but can’t catch one half-dead blonde in a bikini?” I round the corner of the ring, brushing sweaty hair out of my face as I run—not fast, but just fast enough to keep teasing. I slap the apron with one hand and flash the crowd a wink as they roar. My body’s wrecked, but my spirit is burning brighter than ever. Then, just as I feel you closing the gap behind me, I duck low, trying to slide under the bottom rope—not to run, but to lure you in. The moment I get back inside, I’ll scramble to the ropes opposite, setting a trap—if you dive in headlong after me, I’ll spring with a low dropkick or bait you into eating the turnbuckle.

13:43 Georgia_Ellenwood: Because in this state, I can’t outmuscle you... But I can outsmart you. And I will do my best to do so, hoping the chasing after me has lost a bit of your focus watching my ass jiggle and tense, like an athlete's tight glutes should be🤭

13:51 Biff_the_Bruiser: I lumber after you as fast as i can, but you manage to keep just ahead of me....taunting me at the same time, not to mention your distracting boobs bouncing up and down and that sweet ass of your jiggling almost in my face........barely contained by that very sweaty bikini which seems to be shrinking every minute. But now the ref has started another ten count on us and you decide to slide back inside just as i start to close the distance on you. I stop and wait, smelling a trap as the ref counts. Finally he gets to 8 and i slide back in, trying to roll back to my feet as fast as i can. Not sure what you have in mind now, but ready for anything.

23:08 Georgia_Ellenwood: I hear your heavy footsteps pounding just behind me, and I know you're closing in—but I keep the gap, throwing just enough bounce in my stride to make every movement that much more… distracting. My top clings tighter with every drop of sweat, my bottoms riding up just a little more with each turn around the ring—but it’s not just for show. It’s calculated chaos. I want you focused on the wrong things.

23:08 Georgia_Ellenwood: The crowd's going wild—some screaming for you to catch me, others laughing, cheering as I dip under the bottom rope with a flash of toned legs and bruised defiance, sliding back into the ring like I still have full control. I glance back as you hesitate outside the ropes, your instincts kicking in just enough to smell the setup... Smart. I smirk, resting on my knees for a beat, then grabbing the middle rope and pulling myself upright with effort—back still aching, ribs still tender, but my mind razor sharp, fueled by pure adrenaline.

23:08 Georgia_Ellenwood: The ref’s count hits eight. You finally slide in, all power and caution, trying to spring up before I can pounce. And that’s exactly what I wanted. As soon as your knee hits the canvas, I rush forward, faking a stomp to your head to force your arms to shield—then pivoting, twisting my hips and throwing a basement dropkick low and fast, aiming right for your planted left knee. Not to break you. Just to destabilize. To take away that base. Because if I can get you off that strong leg—even for a second—I’ll have a moment where your size, your power, your momentum means nothing. And a moment’s all I have.

23:20 Biff_the_Bruiser: I watch your sexy body slither back thru the ropes, then I follow you inside the ropes, after waiting as long as possible. . I know you are waiting but i cant wait any longer if i dont want to be counted out and just hand you the title. No, not after all this hard work! the ref is counting 8........then 9 as i slide my way back in. I push up to my knees, then almost get back up to my feet when THWACK ...you kick out at my knee owwww.....throwing me off balance and then falling to my knees with a loud growl. The crowd realizing that this fight is not quite done yet. Even though im already pushing my way back up again. "Oh you will pay for that bitch" i say getting mad now.

23:21 Biff_the_Bruiser: