Fight 7 (Stacy Keibler vs. Missy Peregrym)

Tale of the Tape:

Stacy Keibler (35-29-1, 28 KO)
5'11, 43 years old
Team America

vs.

Missy Peregrym (68-40-2, 48 KO)
5'8, 40 years old
Team Canada

(Written by Celebrity Wrestling Federation/Results by Lookout!)

Intro:
"AND NOW! Making her 66th appearance in the ring, fighting under the Celebrity Wrestling Federation flag. Please welcome the Baltimore, Maryland native, standing 5 foot 11, weighing in at 130 pounds, STACYYYY KEEEEEIBLERRRRR!!”

Outfits:
Keibler’s lithe, Amazonian frame was lewdly wrapped in a microscopic string bikini that left little to the imagination. The blonde’s sternum swelled with anxious pants and deep, calming breaths; her taut abdomen sculpted out of bronze, her perky tits delicately compacted by a thin-banded tube top that belted tightly around her mushrooming B-cups. As she hit the apron, Keibler craned her long stems and bent at the waist, playfully shimmying her hips at the base of her crouch as she slid through the ropes and into the ring. Her pale-pink string thong was devoured by jiggling folds of flesh, finally rising and rearranging the twined, biting string bottoms by hiking them high up her hips. Ending her old-school WWE entrance to raucous applause, the blonde arched and pressed to her tippy toes against the ropes, lifting to tie back her tightly-braided pony tail before pumping her gloved fists together.

Attempting to follow Miss America’s inciting entrance, Peregrym made her own strut through the ropes in a much more reserved manor; plucking at her red and white ‘Canadian flag’ bikini top and cheeky low-cut booty shorts she had chosen. The Canadian corner had noticeably thinned out with Katic needing a backstage breather, but surprise winners Trish Stratus and Emmanuelle Chriqui made their voices heard as Peregrym settled into her corner; looking to finish writing the miraculous Canadian comeback story. After a mixed bag in the Jaguar Tournament and an understandable loss to the streaking Kennedy McMann, Missy was looking to get back in the Jaguar Title hunt with a victory against another 40-something; perhaps even using Stacy as a stepping stone to reach her compatriot, Stana Katic. Keibler was no pushover, but despite her three inch height disadvantage and the support of the largely-American crowd, the brunette’s stellar pile of career accomplishments net her the ‘favorite’ tag.

Round 1:
The first round began with all the timidity of a Title Fight; with Stacy taking the early leash and pawing for openings in Peregrym’s staunch defenses until the round was half over. With over 150 fights between them but never having met, Missy was understandably hesitant to carelessly vault herself into Keibler’s gangly range. Some similarly lanky strikers like Emily DiDonato had given Peregrym a ‘worst case’ taste of what their reach could do, so it wasn’t until Stacy made the first chancy move in the form of a looping, elastic hook that the brunette launched her counter-offensive.

Keibler’s indecisive, lagging strike found nothing but air as Missy alertly nuzzled in tight and poured a pair of brutal, crunchy hooks into Keibler’s taut, flexing midsection. The sinewy blonde hoarsely squealed as Missy twisted and tore rib from cartilage; driving savage, stumpy shanks into Keibler’s abdomen as she slowly backpedaled into the ropes in dire straits. Keibler clumsily rocked and buckled with each weighty thud against her crunching midsection, doubled over by the time her spine hit the ropes and Peregrym was forced to let off at the bell. The Hall-of-Famer showed her stuff early, stealing a pace-setting round 10-8 with a late flurry.

Round 2:
Having been deftly handcuffed and handled by the shorter, quicker brunette for the last half of the first, Keibler managed to force a more comfortable range in the second. Fighting off Missy’s bullish attempts to steamroll through her length and close quarters, the blonde finally snared the ghostly brunette with a sharp overhand jab that found the button from the clouds, wobbling her legs and easing her off the gas as her jaw rattled from the bony impact. Keibler took the reigns from there, unleashing a torrid volley of overhands that simply overwhelmed the covered Peregrym until heavy meteors began to seep through her arms. The Canadian corner was frenetic as Keibler was unrelenting, paying Peregrym back in blood for her aggressive flurry in the first. Taut rolls formed as her belly crunched sideways, throatily wailing as Keibler lowered her sights and pinched a piercing hook below her ribs. Peregrym’s answering jab was swatted away with little trouble, her upper half rocking into the ropes as Stacy spiked another vicious straight left into her upper sternum and turned on the burners. Keibler commands the second, 10-8.

Round 3:
Peregrym swaddled her pulsing chest through the round intermission, but the debilitating pain didn’t subside quick enough for her to recover for the third as she continued to be hounded by Keibler’s length. Turning into the blonde’s personal punching bag, Missy curled and twisted as her throaty cries grew more shrill; desperately shelled up as Keibler gassed herself out with wicked overhands and shoulder-high hooks that battered Peregrym’s castle walls. As the round wore on, Keibler’s stamina finally waned, as did her stalking. Missy leveled the ship, but still was shunted with every attempt at firing through the blonde’s longer arms, helpless to push through Keibler’s gangly defenses. Keibler slows, but stacks another strong round 10-9.

Round 4/5:
Feeling as though she’d survived the eye of the story, Peregrym was rejuvenated when an early laser from Keibler flew well over her head; opening the blonde for a shell-cracking torso-cutter to the navel. Keibler flashed her mouthpiece in agony and hurled over at the waist, throatily grunting as her world-class derriere jut into the ropes. Missy stuck to the blonde’s hip as Keibler shuffled sideways, ripping rising hooks and side-uppercuts into Stacy’s heaving chest until she careened drunkenly into the corner post. Suddenly in a world of trouble, the disheveled blonde twisted and writhed as Peregrym began to flurry, slinging leather into the meat of Stacy’s sternum and bowing the dizzied blonde into the ring outskirts. Keibler awkwardly squirmed as Missy tried to polish her chin; fists whizzing into shoulders and ribs as the blonde tried to grate her way through the frenzied brunette to no avail. There was a startled yip as the former Diva was suddenly cracked in the cheek, her heaving chest sprawling and smearing across the top rope as she was contorted halfway out of the ring.

Finally saved by the bell, Keibler stumbled into the arms of her corner, collapsing atop her stool just seconds after the round ended. The intermission once again played no favorites, as Keibler had to be forced into the center of the ring by the compelling of the official. As Missy strode forward, Keibler instinctively curled behind her forearms; leaving an opening for her slender, flexing belly to be brutally pulverized by another crunchy right hook. Keibler throatily grunted as she teetered sideways, her abdomen concaving around the brunette’s fist as Missy slipped another pair of lightning strikes below her elbows. Keibler’s long, sinewy stems pinched shut as she sloppily drifted sideways, her legs buckling as her jaw sloshed slack, grimacing and flailing to tie up the shorter brunette. With a balletic sidestep, Missy shifted her weight and lifted a titanic uppercut into the bottom of Stacy’s bosom, jugging her underboob and nearly bouncing the blonde right out of her top.

“NNNNGGGUUUH—Ggggll” Keibler suddenly crowed, her agony abbreviated by a silencing overhand ripping with Missy’s full body weight across her chin. Keibler’s neck snapped sideways as the vibrations traced all the way down her spine, her long, heaving torso rattling with spasms before she was felled with a heavy crash to the canvas.

1… 2… 3… Keibler’s noodly frame clumsily lawn-chaired at the waist, her sculpted abdomen curling as she tried to crunch halfway up to a seated position. The Canadian corner was frenetic, screaming as though they’d completed the comeback and seeing no way the blonde would rise to meet the occasion.

4… 5… 6… 7… Stacy continued to inch her way vertical; her mascara-smeared lashes still fluttering with a visible daze, but putting hand over foot all the same until she’d shuffled into the corner and used the ropes to stand. Before the count of 8, the blonde was back up; a ghostly shell of herself, but gingerly tapping her gloves together and calling for a continuation. With two dominant rounds in the fourth and fifth, Missy was content to play out the clock and take a few more small nibbles out of a sleepwalking Keibler; stalling out the last minute and letting the blonde make it back to her corner alive.

Round 6:
With a widening scorecard gap between them and a knockdown under her belt, Peregrym’s steely determination shifted more toward self-preservation. Keibler had understandably become unfettered, wailing away at anything that moved in front of her in a desperate attempt to make up points in a hurry. Peregrym continued to take chunks out of the blonde’s reddened midsection when she could scurry forward for a bite, but it was Keibler who was now unleashing the home run swings. A mist of sweat detonated with every subsequent impact; whether that impact was against flesh or Missy’s guard. The exhausted, sweat-drenched blonde was determined to punch and clod her way through Missy’s Hall-of-Fame defenses; grunting with every exuberant hook and overhand that ricocheted off Peregrym’s forearms. She needed more and she needed it in a hurry, but Keibler takes an admirable sixth by the slimmest of margins. 10-9, Stacy.

Round 7:
The sluggish blonde was still panting as she staggered out of her corner, her slender belly rapidly swelling as she approached a much more composed Peregrym. Even still, it was Keibler who fired one of her few remaining torpedoes first. As Missy dipped beneath Stacy’s chin-level right cross, Keibler followed with a nasty trailing uppercut with her weaker left, creaming the brunette’s chest with a fleshy *THUMP*. Missy let out a throaty; “GOOHHLL” as she was caught for the first time in ages, her bust juggled by Keibler’s fist as she was rubber-banded right back upright. A look of horror flashed across the brunette’s flushed features as Keibler suddenly twirled through a sweeping right, cleaning Missy’s head off her shoulders and sending her crashing to the canvas against the base of the ropes.

1… 2… Peregrym skid to a drunken stop on hands and knees, fumbling over herself as she crawled toward the corner and pulled back to her feet with the corner post’s help.

In a flash, she’d somehow righted the ship; rising by 3 and pushing toward the slouching blonde with a frazzled fire in her eyes. Her knees still wobbling, Missy flung a weary left cross into Keibler’s flexing belly, eliciting another guttural grunt from the blonde’s lips as she pushed her back. Keibler matched the brunette’s strides with the pace of her backpedal, eating a balance-shifting overhand to the shoulder before rocking Missy’s chin with two sharp darts from her left. Peregrym’s advances suddenly became discombobulated, tripping over her own heels before Keibler slung a heavy club into her clavicles. Peregrym grimaced as her noodly legs buckled again, gracelessly side-stepping before the blonde rushed over her and began pouring uncouth overhands into her upper half. Missy desperately twisted and retreated into the ropes, both corners screaming as the blonde whipped tactless, frenzied fists into her crumbling guard. With Missy slumping deeper and deeper against the ropes, the official finally dove in and peeled Keibler off, allowing the ragged brunette to slide the rest of the way to her haunches in a puddle.

"And your winner, by TKO in Round 7, STACYYYYY KEIIIIIBLERRRRRR!!!!"


Post Fight:
Keibler huffed a few sweat-matted, disheveled strands of hair from her eyes before hoisting her arms in the air; absolutely mobbed by her Team America compatriots in the center of the ring. Through their mugging, Keibler’s gaze of disdain toward the downed Peregrym never let up; her heavy pants slowing as she caught her breath and Missy slowly crawled to a crouched seat against the base of the corner post. With the biggest peacekeeper ring-side, Katic, out of the picture, the runway was cleared for Keibler to leave her mark beyond what she’d already done. Longtime rival Trish Stratus was the first to notice the gleam in the blonde’s eyes; ducking beneath the middle rope to defend Peregrym from the onslaught she saw coming from the former Diva.

As Trish rose from crouching through the ropes, there was a colossal *CRACK* as Keibler crow-hopped to close the gap and delivered a devastating Big Boot square to Stratus’ jaw. The blonde was instantly lifted off her feet and flipped backwards over the springy top rope, tumbling lifelessly to the apron before floundering sprawled across the concrete below. Peregrym was helpless but to shake her head and plead, squealing as Keibler straddled her at the base of the corner post and planted a suffocating boot against her throat. Missy desperately bucked and squirmed, pedaling her long limbs against the mat as Keibler nuzzled her heel deeper against the base of her chin; gurgling as the pressure mounted and her bulbs slowly fluttered into the back of her skull. Peregrym’s wiggling slowed as the blonde sawed and grate her heel, sinking her Corner Foot Choke tighter until the brunette slid slack, spread-eagled and pinned beneath Stacy’s foot.

Finally lifting off her noose, Missy lulled flat on her back, vacantly blubbering as she stared toward the rafters, twitching and unconscious. Not quite satisfied without a cherry on top, Keibler snagged one of Missy’s ankles and dragged her center ring; sliding to the mat and hooking the back of one of Peregrym’s meaty thighs. With her arms strewn above her head, Missy’s prone frame simply pitched with spasms as Stacy pried her lower half into the splits; crunching her at the waist and counting along with a humiliating 3-count leg-spread pin.

The winner of the CAN-AM Border Bash is Team America!!!


Can-Am Border Bash: Team America (4) vs. Team Canada (3)