Post by Queens of Absolution on Feb 23, 2024 7:19:50 GMT -6
AG 24: Melissa Benoist vs Demi Lovato
(Results: Lookout / Words: Queens)
Melissa Benoist
(35 , 5’8”, 121lbs, 15:24 FCBA, Queens of Absolution)
Demi Lovato:
(31, 5’3”, 47:32:1 FCBA, Lookout! Boxing)
BEFORE:
Stepping into the ring, Melissa Benoist emerged as an imposing figure, exuding an aura of intimidation that echoed in the silence of the arena. Clad in a black and red embroidered sports bra and briefs, her outfit was a striking contrast to her alabaster skin, accentuating her athletic physique. Each muscle on her body was sculpted to perfection, from her chiseled abs—a testament to her relentless training—to her toned arms, coiling with hidden power. Her black and red embroidered boxing gloves were not mere accessories, but extensions of her own hardened will, their vibrance matching the fire in her eyes. Those very boots, adorned in similar hues, held the ground firmly, hinting at the storm that was about to unfurl. And amidst this deadly ensemble, her blonde hair flowed freely, a symbol of her untamed spirit. Every inch of her was taut, honed, and ready for the battle ahead, making Melissa not just an athlete of the ring, but a seductive siren of strength and brutality.
On the contrasting end of the ring stood Demi Lovato, her physique softer, a stark contrast to Melissa's chiseled figure. Cloaked in a fiery red sports bra and briefs, her ensemble was more akin to a vibrant flame against her skin, an attempt to ignite a semblance of ferocity. The red boots, laced up to her calves, mirrored the color of her gloves, both of which hung heavily against her body, as though they bore the weight of the impending fight. Her body, unlike Melissa's sculpted form, held an undeniable softness, reflecting a weaker armor that was more susceptible to the onslaught that was to come. Her muscular definition was lesser, making her a softer, more vulnerable target in the cruel arena of boxing. It was a visage that incited empathy, rather than fear—an unfortunate underdog in the brutal world of the ring. Each breath she took seemed to echo an underlying tremor of nervous anticipation, a stark contrast to Melissa's rhythmic, confident respirations. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the edges of her gloves, betraying a hint of nervous anticipation. Demi Lovato, thus, stood as a poignant reminder of the harsh reality of the ring, where fiery spirit often meets with brutal strength.
As soon as the silence blanketed the stadium, Melissa stepped forward, her boots thudding against the canvas, creating ripples of anticipation. The fiery eyes locked onto Demi, looking straight through her, as if peering into her soul. Her voice, when it came, reverberated across the arena, clear, chilling, and laced with disdain. "Your body," she began, her words slicing through the tension, "it's pathetically weak." A cruel smile played on her lips, her gaze unyielding. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Lovato? This is a ring for fighters, not for porcelain dolls." The taunt was out, hanging in the air, a raw challenge igniting the atmosphere with its brutal honesty.
As the venomous taunt hung in the stagnant air, Demi's face twisted with a flash of indignation. A fiery retort lingered on her tongue, but she swallowed it down, her spirit refusing to be baited. Instead, her body reacted, muscle memory taking over where words failed. She lunged at Melissa with a sudden burst of pent-up energy, her red gloves a blur as she attempted to land a retaliatory blow. The air seemed to crackle with the sudden change in energy, the crowd inhaled in unified anticipation, their cheers building up like an approaching storm. But the ring had its own guardian, the referee, whose hawk-like eyes had been tracking the escalating tension. Quick as a whip, he stepped in between the two warriors, his stern gaze and firm stance a clear barricade. With a swift and practiced motion, he pushed them apart, maintaining the sanctity of the ring. "To your corners," he commanded, his voice echoing solidly in the energized SoFi stadium. Each woman retreated, the referee's stern authority casting an irrefutable order. The tension simmered, a palpable entity, hanging like a storm cloud over the electrified stadium.
As both fighters retreated to their corners, the collective heartbeat of the audience pulsated through the arena, growing louder with each passing moment. The anticipation was a living, breathing entity, whispering secrets in the wind, filling the air with electrifying tension. Then, the chanting began - a powerful, rhythmic chorus that echoed through the stadium, each syllable a testament to the impending clash. "Melis-sa! Melis-sa!" the crowd roared, their voices intertwined in a symphony of support, the noise crescendoing to a deafening peak. The arena was a cauldron of stirring emotions, the air thick with anticipation, as if time itself had come to a standstill. With the intensity of the scenario reaching a fever pitch, the referee, a statue amidst the chaos, raised his hand. His eyes, steely and resolute, swept across the two fighters, their breaths now synced with the chanting. Then, with a deliberate motion, he lowered his hand, signaling for the bell. A single, sharp note split the air, its resounding echo serving as a clarion call for the warriors to unleash their fury. The boxing match had begun.
Round 01:
The bell tolled and Demi hit the ground running, charging at Melissa with an unexpected ferocity. Her sleek, red gloves found their mark with unnerving accuracy, targeting Melissa's chiseled abs. Melissa's body jerked back with the force of the blow, a look of surprise flashing in her eyes. Her abs, a symbol of her strength and stamina, tensed against the impact, the defined muscles absorbing the brunt of the hit. The taut sinews beneath her skin twitched in response, a testament to the sudden, unexpected pain that was beginning to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness.
Fighting back the shock, Melissa’s defined abs contracted, their sculpted ridges hardening into a formidable shield. Their strength was evident in the way they bore the brunt of Demi’s onslaught, each blow causing the taut muscles to ripple in response. Her lean, athletic torso twisted and turned, weaving out of the way of some punches, absorbing others with a grimace. The fight was beginning to leave its mark on her body, the first inklings of a bruise beginning to form on her otherwise flawless midsection, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.
Demi's next move took Melissa by surprise - a direct hit to her vulnerable solar plexus. The resulting blow was a shockwave that radiated outwards, the epicenter of the impact marked by the red imprint of Demi’s glove. Melissa’s body involuntarily recoiled, her breath hitching as her diaphragm spasmed. The muscles around her solar plexus tightened in response, the striations becoming more pronounced as her body instinctually sought to protect the vulnerable spot.
Next, Demi shifted her focus upstairs, her gloves becoming a blur of motion as she targeted Melissa's face. But Melissa's guard was solid, her arms rising in a swift, defensive motion, the defined muscles of her forearms tensing as they formed an impenetrable shield in front of her face. The strength of her arms was evident in the way they deflected most of Demi's jabs, her biceps and triceps hardening under the repeated onslaught.
Yet, a few of Demi's punches managed to slip past Melissa's guard, landing on her sculpted cheekbones and jaw. The impact left a fleeting mark on her porcelain skin, the areas momentarily reddening before fading back to their natural shade. Melissa shook off the hits, her toned neck muscles flexing as she swung her head back and forth, clearing the cobwebs.
As the round neared its conclusion, Demi's strategy shifted once again. She began feinting towards Melissa's head, but instead, her punches found their mark on Melissa's sternum and ribs. Each swift jab to her sternum sent shockwaves rippling across her defined chest muscles, causing her to wince with each hit. The blows to her ribs were harder to shake off, the area already tender from the repeated impact.
Melissa's ribs, encased in a protective layer of lean muscle, were visibly responding to the relentless punches. Each new assault brought a fresh wave of pain that coursed through her physique, causing her tight abdominal muscles to clench involuntarily in response. The normally unyielding structure of her rib cage seemed to waver under the persistent onslaught, but her fortified core, a testament to her rigorous training, refused to yield.
By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the round, Melissa's body bore the hallmarks of the grueling battle. Her abs, ribs, and chest were flushed with exertion, the skin stretched over the defined muscles marked with the bruises of battle. Despite the physical toll, her body remained a testament to her strength and resilience, every defined muscle and sinew a symbol of her determination and willpower. The round may have ended on a high note for Demi but for Melissa Benoist and the Queens of Absolution this was not the start wanted to see.
As the bell marked the end of the first round, the two pugilists lumbered back to their corners, their bodies slick with perspiration and exertion. Demi, a smirk playing on her lips, turned to Melissa and taunted her, her voice dripping with condescension. Each word was a poisoned arrow, aimed to shatter the remnants of Melissa's composure. Yet Melissa, unyielding as ever, simply met Demi's abrasive words with an icy stare. Her steely blue eyes, usually warm and inviting, hardened into chips of ice, the frigid gaze enough to freeze even the warmest of hearts. The cold stare spoke volumes, turning the verbal tables on Demi and leaving her momentarily taken aback. Melissa’s unwavering gaze, a testament to her unwavering spirit, served as a wordless retort to Demi’s derision.
Round 02 & 03:
The bell punctuated the charged silence of the stadium, signaling the commencement of Round Two. Melissa, her body a testament to raw power and tenacity, gritted her teeth and charged at Demi. Demi, taken aback by the sudden onslaught, barely had time to react before Melissa's gloves connected with her soft belly. The impact was immediate, and a shockwave rippled across Demi's midsection. Her belly, usually soft from the lack of rigorous training, wobbled under the force of the hit. The muscles underneath, unaccustomed to such brutality, spasmed in response, sending waves of pain shooting up her spine.
Demi's face contorted in pain, the surprise evident in her widening eyes. Her mouthguard, a small piece of protective plastic, shot out of her mouth, leaving a trail of spit in its wake. The referee, observing this, immediately signaled a pause in the match. The crowd roared in response, their cheers echoing off the walls of SoFi Stadium. Demi, still recoiling from the brutal hit, staggered back to her corner, her hand instinctively curling around her belly in a futile attempt to shield it from further damage.
Meanwhile, Melissa stood resolute in the center of the ring, her gloves raised in anticipation of the next round. There was a newfound fire in her eyes, a stark contrast to the icy stare she had sported in the previous round. Her body, once a canvas for Demi's punches, was now a weapon, each muscle coiled and ready to strike. Her abs, the target of Demi's previous assault, were now a testament to her indomitable strength, their defined ridges a symbol of her driving determination.
Round Three commenced in a manner similar to Round Two, with Melissa attacking Demi with an unyielding ferocity. Demi, her body still reeling from the previous onslaught, struggled to keep up. Her belly, the target of Melissa's relentless assault, was beginning to show signs of wear. The once soft surface was now marred with bruises, each one a bitter testament to Melissa's dominant strength.
Each punch that landed on Demi's belly seemed to drain her of energy, her body buckling under the relentless assault. The muscles beneath her soft belly quivered, their usual elasticity waning under the brutal onslaught. Each hit sent another shockwave rippling across her midsection, the impact causing her to gasp for breath.
Melissa, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving in this brutal environment. Her body, once the recipient of Demi's assault, was now the instigator. The muscles of her arms and chest grew more pronounced with each successive punch she landed. Her abs, once a target, were now a shield, their defined ridges hardening and flexing with every movement she made.
Melissa's face, usually soft and welcoming, was now a mask of determination. Her eyes bore into Demi's, their icy blue hue replaced with a fiery intensity that mirrored her relentless assault. Even her defined jawline seemed to harden, the muscles tightening in response to her clenched teeth.
Demi, on the receiving end of this brutal onslaught, was beginning to show signs of struggle. Her body, usually fit and trim, was now bearing the consequences of this relentless battle. Each punch that landed seemed to push her a step closer to her limits. Her soft belly was now her downfall, the repeated blows causing her to double over in pain.
By the time the bell rang signaling the end of Round Three, Demi's body was a tableau of pain and exhaustion. Her belly, once soft and inviting, was now bruised and tender. The impact of Melissa's punches had taken its toll, leaving Demi panting and gasping for breath.
Melissa, on the other hand, was a picture of dominance. Her body, once the target of Demi's assault, was now a weapon of unparalleled strength. Her defined abs, usually the recipients of Demi's punches, were now a symbol of her dominance, their hardened ridges a testament to her unyielding spirit.
As the crowd roared in approval, the two fighters made their way back to their respective corners. Demi, her body battered and bruised, struggled to regain her footing. Melissa, her body a testament to raw power and tenacity, strode back to her corner with an air of unshaken confidence, her gaze never leaving Demi's figure. Her body, bearing the physical testament of two grueling rounds, was ready for what lay ahead.
As Demi slumped in her corner, gasping for breath, and Melissa stood tall, her defined muscles gleaming under the harsh lights of the stadium, one thing was clear - the tide of the battle had turned.
Round 04:
Round Four began with a discernible shift in energy. Demi, despite the relentless assault she had weathered in the previous round, moved with newfound determination. She sidestepped Melissa's opening jab, her eyes narrowing in focus. From her posture to her movements, everything about her radiated purpose. Her gloved hands moved in a blur as she launched a barrage of jabs, alternating between Melissa's face and ribs with an unerring precision. Every strike was calculated, meant to incapacitate and dominate.
Melissa, caught off guard by Demi's sudden comeback, was forced onto the defensive. Her eyes, which had been ablaze with triumph, now reflected surprise. Demi's jabs, swift and ruthless, left her no opportunity to retaliate. She could only weave and duck, each movement causing her to wince as the bruises on her ribs protested. Her abs, once a shield of strength, were tightening in anticipation of the inevitable blow.
As if on cue, Demi swung her fist into Melissa's tight tummy. The punch landed with a resounding thud, sending a spasm of pain across Melissa's face. Her abs, usually rigid and defined, gave way to the force, rippling under the impact. The punch seemed to drain the fight out of Melissa, her body doubling over in reflex.
Demi, fuelled by the sight of her opponent reeling, didn't let up. Her fists moved in a rhythmic dance, landing hit after hit on Melissa's now vulnerable body. Every punch was a testament to her resolve, each one echoing in the silent spaces between the crowd's roars. Her face was a mask of determination, every feature radiating a resolute strength.
Melissa, in contrast, was beginning to falter. Her body, once fluid and strong, was now stiffening under the relentless onslaught. Each jab to her face caused her to grimace, her eyes squinting under the impact. The once formidable fighter was now struggling to stay on her feet, her body swaying under the weight of Demi's punishing blows.
Demi, in her resurgence, was ruthless. Her fists continued to pummel Melissa, her eyes never leaving her opponent. The harsh stadium lights glinted off her sweat-slicked skin, highlighting the fierce determination etched on her features. Her body, bruised, was a study in resilience, moving with a power that belied the wounds it bore.
Melissa, in stark contrast, was wilting under Demi's relentless assault. Her body, once the embodiment of strength and dominance, was now a testament to her suffering. Her defined abs, usually rigid and ready for combat, twitched in response to Demi's brutal hits, their ridges contracting and releasing in a futile attempt to shield her from the pain.
As the bell sounded the end of Round Four, Demi Lovato stood tall, the victor of the round. Panting, her body slick with sweat, the grimace on her face gave way to a triumphant grin. Melissa, on the other hand, staggered back to her corner, her body heaving with exertion. Her abs, once a powerful shield, were now a bruised canvas, documenting the brutal round she had just endured. Her eyes, usually fiery, were now dull with exhaustion. She slumped onto the stool in her corner, each breath she took echoing the punishing blows she had endured.
As the countdown to the next round began, Demi Lovato, her body gleaming with sweat and a smirk of triumph etched on her face, turned her attention to Melissa Benoist. With an exaggerated gesture, she pointed towards Melissa's abs, her fingers mimicking the punches she had landed in the previous round. She taunted her, a wicked grin spreading across her face despite the evident exhaustion. The stadium, once alive with the roar of the crowd, was now filled with boos echoing from every corner. Clearly, the spectators were not on Demi's side. They were rooting for Melissa, their cheers and whistles attempting to drown out Demi's mockery. Despite the taunts and the daunting battle ahead, Melissa remained stoic, her face reflecting not a hint of intimidation. She tightened her battered abs, a silent rebuttal to Demi's jeering. The gaze that met Demi's was one of defiance, silently vowing retribution in the upcoming round.
Round 05:
Round Five commenced, a moment of retribution for Melissa Benoist. With an icy determination etched on her face, she launched herself at Demi Lovato. A rapid-fire succession of jabs squarely hit Demi's eyes, gashing her forehead open and splattering crimson droplets across the canvas. A bone-crushing jab to the nose ensued, followed by a crippling punch to Demi's soft belly. The once vibrant arena fell into a stunned silence as Demi crumpled onto the canvas, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.
The referee initiated the count, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet. Demi, splayed on the canvas, was a picture of defeat. But to everyone's surprise, she began to move. With a visible effort, she slowly raised herself to her feet, her body trembling as the crowd held its collective breath.
The match resumed, and Melissa resumed her assault, pushing Demi back against the ropes. With a ferocity that was chilling, she unleashed a devastating onslaught of punches to Demi's now vulnerable belly. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, causing Demi's body to convulse under the impact. Demi's pained cries filled the ringside, each gasp a testament to the brutality of Melissa's assault.
The relentless, vicious assault was too much for Demi to handle, and too brutal for the referee to let continue. With a swift intervention, he stepped between the two fighters, signaling the end of the match. As Melissa backed away, her hands raised in undisputed victory, Demi slumped against the ropes, her body finally surrendering to the relentless assault. The crowd erupted into cheers, their roars echoing in Melissa's triumphant wake.
Official Decision: Melissa Benoist defeats Demi Lovato via TKO 5!
AFTER:
As the arena roared with applause, Melissa Benoist held aloft a microphone in her victorious arm while her other arm was raised in triumph. She stood there, a living testament of grit and determination, her body bathed in the harsh white glow of the flashbulbs. Photographers swarmed around her, capturing her moment of glory. Meanwhile, a crestfallen Demi Lovato was led away from the limelight, tears streaming down her bruised and battered face. However, amidst the victorious celebration, Melissa sharply turned her attention towards the retreating figure of Demi. Raising the microphone to her squared jaw, she voiced a final, stinging remark that echoed off the hanging silence, "This is why you don't let a chubby girl box." The spectators and announcers were taken aback by the harsh jibe. A murmur swept through the crowd as Melissa's words hung in the air, adding the final insult to Demi Lovato's injury. The stadium fell into a stunned silence, the announcers too aghast to comment on what had just transpired.
Regaining their composure, the announcers took a deep breath, cleared their throats, and took their place at the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen," one began, his voice ringing out over the stunned silence, "We have witnessed a brutal spectacle tonight. A victor has emerged. Melissa Benoist, a queen among fighters, has claimed the first match in the 'Queens versus the World' event!"
The crowd erupted into applause, a crescendo of sound that filled the arena. The echo of Melissa's victory still reverberated in the air as the second announcer took over, his voice steady despite the electrifying atmosphere. "But stay tuned, folks. The night is not over yet. Up next, we have the 'Armageddon Goddesses' bout, a face-off that promises to be every bit as thrilling. Get ready to witness Monica Ollander take on VIXEN's own Alexis Ren. It's going to be a showdown like no other, so don't you dare blink!"
The anticipation hung thick in the air as the first fight's aftermath was cleared away, the stage set for the next epic confrontation.
(Results: Lookout / Words: Queens)
Melissa Benoist
(35 , 5’8”, 121lbs, 15:24 FCBA, Queens of Absolution)
Demi Lovato:
(31, 5’3”, 47:32:1 FCBA, Lookout! Boxing)
BEFORE:
Stepping into the ring, Melissa Benoist emerged as an imposing figure, exuding an aura of intimidation that echoed in the silence of the arena. Clad in a black and red embroidered sports bra and briefs, her outfit was a striking contrast to her alabaster skin, accentuating her athletic physique. Each muscle on her body was sculpted to perfection, from her chiseled abs—a testament to her relentless training—to her toned arms, coiling with hidden power. Her black and red embroidered boxing gloves were not mere accessories, but extensions of her own hardened will, their vibrance matching the fire in her eyes. Those very boots, adorned in similar hues, held the ground firmly, hinting at the storm that was about to unfurl. And amidst this deadly ensemble, her blonde hair flowed freely, a symbol of her untamed spirit. Every inch of her was taut, honed, and ready for the battle ahead, making Melissa not just an athlete of the ring, but a seductive siren of strength and brutality.
On the contrasting end of the ring stood Demi Lovato, her physique softer, a stark contrast to Melissa's chiseled figure. Cloaked in a fiery red sports bra and briefs, her ensemble was more akin to a vibrant flame against her skin, an attempt to ignite a semblance of ferocity. The red boots, laced up to her calves, mirrored the color of her gloves, both of which hung heavily against her body, as though they bore the weight of the impending fight. Her body, unlike Melissa's sculpted form, held an undeniable softness, reflecting a weaker armor that was more susceptible to the onslaught that was to come. Her muscular definition was lesser, making her a softer, more vulnerable target in the cruel arena of boxing. It was a visage that incited empathy, rather than fear—an unfortunate underdog in the brutal world of the ring. Each breath she took seemed to echo an underlying tremor of nervous anticipation, a stark contrast to Melissa's rhythmic, confident respirations. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the edges of her gloves, betraying a hint of nervous anticipation. Demi Lovato, thus, stood as a poignant reminder of the harsh reality of the ring, where fiery spirit often meets with brutal strength.
As soon as the silence blanketed the stadium, Melissa stepped forward, her boots thudding against the canvas, creating ripples of anticipation. The fiery eyes locked onto Demi, looking straight through her, as if peering into her soul. Her voice, when it came, reverberated across the arena, clear, chilling, and laced with disdain. "Your body," she began, her words slicing through the tension, "it's pathetically weak." A cruel smile played on her lips, her gaze unyielding. "Are you sure you're in the right place, Lovato? This is a ring for fighters, not for porcelain dolls." The taunt was out, hanging in the air, a raw challenge igniting the atmosphere with its brutal honesty.
As the venomous taunt hung in the stagnant air, Demi's face twisted with a flash of indignation. A fiery retort lingered on her tongue, but she swallowed it down, her spirit refusing to be baited. Instead, her body reacted, muscle memory taking over where words failed. She lunged at Melissa with a sudden burst of pent-up energy, her red gloves a blur as she attempted to land a retaliatory blow. The air seemed to crackle with the sudden change in energy, the crowd inhaled in unified anticipation, their cheers building up like an approaching storm. But the ring had its own guardian, the referee, whose hawk-like eyes had been tracking the escalating tension. Quick as a whip, he stepped in between the two warriors, his stern gaze and firm stance a clear barricade. With a swift and practiced motion, he pushed them apart, maintaining the sanctity of the ring. "To your corners," he commanded, his voice echoing solidly in the energized SoFi stadium. Each woman retreated, the referee's stern authority casting an irrefutable order. The tension simmered, a palpable entity, hanging like a storm cloud over the electrified stadium.
As both fighters retreated to their corners, the collective heartbeat of the audience pulsated through the arena, growing louder with each passing moment. The anticipation was a living, breathing entity, whispering secrets in the wind, filling the air with electrifying tension. Then, the chanting began - a powerful, rhythmic chorus that echoed through the stadium, each syllable a testament to the impending clash. "Melis-sa! Melis-sa!" the crowd roared, their voices intertwined in a symphony of support, the noise crescendoing to a deafening peak. The arena was a cauldron of stirring emotions, the air thick with anticipation, as if time itself had come to a standstill. With the intensity of the scenario reaching a fever pitch, the referee, a statue amidst the chaos, raised his hand. His eyes, steely and resolute, swept across the two fighters, their breaths now synced with the chanting. Then, with a deliberate motion, he lowered his hand, signaling for the bell. A single, sharp note split the air, its resounding echo serving as a clarion call for the warriors to unleash their fury. The boxing match had begun.
Round 01:
The bell tolled and Demi hit the ground running, charging at Melissa with an unexpected ferocity. Her sleek, red gloves found their mark with unnerving accuracy, targeting Melissa's chiseled abs. Melissa's body jerked back with the force of the blow, a look of surprise flashing in her eyes. Her abs, a symbol of her strength and stamina, tensed against the impact, the defined muscles absorbing the brunt of the hit. The taut sinews beneath her skin twitched in response, a testament to the sudden, unexpected pain that was beginning to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness.
Fighting back the shock, Melissa’s defined abs contracted, their sculpted ridges hardening into a formidable shield. Their strength was evident in the way they bore the brunt of Demi’s onslaught, each blow causing the taut muscles to ripple in response. Her lean, athletic torso twisted and turned, weaving out of the way of some punches, absorbing others with a grimace. The fight was beginning to leave its mark on her body, the first inklings of a bruise beginning to form on her otherwise flawless midsection, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.
Demi's next move took Melissa by surprise - a direct hit to her vulnerable solar plexus. The resulting blow was a shockwave that radiated outwards, the epicenter of the impact marked by the red imprint of Demi’s glove. Melissa’s body involuntarily recoiled, her breath hitching as her diaphragm spasmed. The muscles around her solar plexus tightened in response, the striations becoming more pronounced as her body instinctually sought to protect the vulnerable spot.
Next, Demi shifted her focus upstairs, her gloves becoming a blur of motion as she targeted Melissa's face. But Melissa's guard was solid, her arms rising in a swift, defensive motion, the defined muscles of her forearms tensing as they formed an impenetrable shield in front of her face. The strength of her arms was evident in the way they deflected most of Demi's jabs, her biceps and triceps hardening under the repeated onslaught.
Yet, a few of Demi's punches managed to slip past Melissa's guard, landing on her sculpted cheekbones and jaw. The impact left a fleeting mark on her porcelain skin, the areas momentarily reddening before fading back to their natural shade. Melissa shook off the hits, her toned neck muscles flexing as she swung her head back and forth, clearing the cobwebs.
As the round neared its conclusion, Demi's strategy shifted once again. She began feinting towards Melissa's head, but instead, her punches found their mark on Melissa's sternum and ribs. Each swift jab to her sternum sent shockwaves rippling across her defined chest muscles, causing her to wince with each hit. The blows to her ribs were harder to shake off, the area already tender from the repeated impact.
Melissa's ribs, encased in a protective layer of lean muscle, were visibly responding to the relentless punches. Each new assault brought a fresh wave of pain that coursed through her physique, causing her tight abdominal muscles to clench involuntarily in response. The normally unyielding structure of her rib cage seemed to waver under the persistent onslaught, but her fortified core, a testament to her rigorous training, refused to yield.
By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the round, Melissa's body bore the hallmarks of the grueling battle. Her abs, ribs, and chest were flushed with exertion, the skin stretched over the defined muscles marked with the bruises of battle. Despite the physical toll, her body remained a testament to her strength and resilience, every defined muscle and sinew a symbol of her determination and willpower. The round may have ended on a high note for Demi but for Melissa Benoist and the Queens of Absolution this was not the start wanted to see.
As the bell marked the end of the first round, the two pugilists lumbered back to their corners, their bodies slick with perspiration and exertion. Demi, a smirk playing on her lips, turned to Melissa and taunted her, her voice dripping with condescension. Each word was a poisoned arrow, aimed to shatter the remnants of Melissa's composure. Yet Melissa, unyielding as ever, simply met Demi's abrasive words with an icy stare. Her steely blue eyes, usually warm and inviting, hardened into chips of ice, the frigid gaze enough to freeze even the warmest of hearts. The cold stare spoke volumes, turning the verbal tables on Demi and leaving her momentarily taken aback. Melissa’s unwavering gaze, a testament to her unwavering spirit, served as a wordless retort to Demi’s derision.
Round 02 & 03:
The bell punctuated the charged silence of the stadium, signaling the commencement of Round Two. Melissa, her body a testament to raw power and tenacity, gritted her teeth and charged at Demi. Demi, taken aback by the sudden onslaught, barely had time to react before Melissa's gloves connected with her soft belly. The impact was immediate, and a shockwave rippled across Demi's midsection. Her belly, usually soft from the lack of rigorous training, wobbled under the force of the hit. The muscles underneath, unaccustomed to such brutality, spasmed in response, sending waves of pain shooting up her spine.
Demi's face contorted in pain, the surprise evident in her widening eyes. Her mouthguard, a small piece of protective plastic, shot out of her mouth, leaving a trail of spit in its wake. The referee, observing this, immediately signaled a pause in the match. The crowd roared in response, their cheers echoing off the walls of SoFi Stadium. Demi, still recoiling from the brutal hit, staggered back to her corner, her hand instinctively curling around her belly in a futile attempt to shield it from further damage.
Meanwhile, Melissa stood resolute in the center of the ring, her gloves raised in anticipation of the next round. There was a newfound fire in her eyes, a stark contrast to the icy stare she had sported in the previous round. Her body, once a canvas for Demi's punches, was now a weapon, each muscle coiled and ready to strike. Her abs, the target of Demi's previous assault, were now a testament to her indomitable strength, their defined ridges a symbol of her driving determination.
Round Three commenced in a manner similar to Round Two, with Melissa attacking Demi with an unyielding ferocity. Demi, her body still reeling from the previous onslaught, struggled to keep up. Her belly, the target of Melissa's relentless assault, was beginning to show signs of wear. The once soft surface was now marred with bruises, each one a bitter testament to Melissa's dominant strength.
Each punch that landed on Demi's belly seemed to drain her of energy, her body buckling under the relentless assault. The muscles beneath her soft belly quivered, their usual elasticity waning under the brutal onslaught. Each hit sent another shockwave rippling across her midsection, the impact causing her to gasp for breath.
Melissa, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving in this brutal environment. Her body, once the recipient of Demi's assault, was now the instigator. The muscles of her arms and chest grew more pronounced with each successive punch she landed. Her abs, once a target, were now a shield, their defined ridges hardening and flexing with every movement she made.
Melissa's face, usually soft and welcoming, was now a mask of determination. Her eyes bore into Demi's, their icy blue hue replaced with a fiery intensity that mirrored her relentless assault. Even her defined jawline seemed to harden, the muscles tightening in response to her clenched teeth.
Demi, on the receiving end of this brutal onslaught, was beginning to show signs of struggle. Her body, usually fit and trim, was now bearing the consequences of this relentless battle. Each punch that landed seemed to push her a step closer to her limits. Her soft belly was now her downfall, the repeated blows causing her to double over in pain.
By the time the bell rang signaling the end of Round Three, Demi's body was a tableau of pain and exhaustion. Her belly, once soft and inviting, was now bruised and tender. The impact of Melissa's punches had taken its toll, leaving Demi panting and gasping for breath.
Melissa, on the other hand, was a picture of dominance. Her body, once the target of Demi's assault, was now a weapon of unparalleled strength. Her defined abs, usually the recipients of Demi's punches, were now a symbol of her dominance, their hardened ridges a testament to her unyielding spirit.
As the crowd roared in approval, the two fighters made their way back to their respective corners. Demi, her body battered and bruised, struggled to regain her footing. Melissa, her body a testament to raw power and tenacity, strode back to her corner with an air of unshaken confidence, her gaze never leaving Demi's figure. Her body, bearing the physical testament of two grueling rounds, was ready for what lay ahead.
As Demi slumped in her corner, gasping for breath, and Melissa stood tall, her defined muscles gleaming under the harsh lights of the stadium, one thing was clear - the tide of the battle had turned.
Round 04:
Round Four began with a discernible shift in energy. Demi, despite the relentless assault she had weathered in the previous round, moved with newfound determination. She sidestepped Melissa's opening jab, her eyes narrowing in focus. From her posture to her movements, everything about her radiated purpose. Her gloved hands moved in a blur as she launched a barrage of jabs, alternating between Melissa's face and ribs with an unerring precision. Every strike was calculated, meant to incapacitate and dominate.
Melissa, caught off guard by Demi's sudden comeback, was forced onto the defensive. Her eyes, which had been ablaze with triumph, now reflected surprise. Demi's jabs, swift and ruthless, left her no opportunity to retaliate. She could only weave and duck, each movement causing her to wince as the bruises on her ribs protested. Her abs, once a shield of strength, were tightening in anticipation of the inevitable blow.
As if on cue, Demi swung her fist into Melissa's tight tummy. The punch landed with a resounding thud, sending a spasm of pain across Melissa's face. Her abs, usually rigid and defined, gave way to the force, rippling under the impact. The punch seemed to drain the fight out of Melissa, her body doubling over in reflex.
Demi, fuelled by the sight of her opponent reeling, didn't let up. Her fists moved in a rhythmic dance, landing hit after hit on Melissa's now vulnerable body. Every punch was a testament to her resolve, each one echoing in the silent spaces between the crowd's roars. Her face was a mask of determination, every feature radiating a resolute strength.
Melissa, in contrast, was beginning to falter. Her body, once fluid and strong, was now stiffening under the relentless onslaught. Each jab to her face caused her to grimace, her eyes squinting under the impact. The once formidable fighter was now struggling to stay on her feet, her body swaying under the weight of Demi's punishing blows.
Demi, in her resurgence, was ruthless. Her fists continued to pummel Melissa, her eyes never leaving her opponent. The harsh stadium lights glinted off her sweat-slicked skin, highlighting the fierce determination etched on her features. Her body, bruised, was a study in resilience, moving with a power that belied the wounds it bore.
Melissa, in stark contrast, was wilting under Demi's relentless assault. Her body, once the embodiment of strength and dominance, was now a testament to her suffering. Her defined abs, usually rigid and ready for combat, twitched in response to Demi's brutal hits, their ridges contracting and releasing in a futile attempt to shield her from the pain.
As the bell sounded the end of Round Four, Demi Lovato stood tall, the victor of the round. Panting, her body slick with sweat, the grimace on her face gave way to a triumphant grin. Melissa, on the other hand, staggered back to her corner, her body heaving with exertion. Her abs, once a powerful shield, were now a bruised canvas, documenting the brutal round she had just endured. Her eyes, usually fiery, were now dull with exhaustion. She slumped onto the stool in her corner, each breath she took echoing the punishing blows she had endured.
As the countdown to the next round began, Demi Lovato, her body gleaming with sweat and a smirk of triumph etched on her face, turned her attention to Melissa Benoist. With an exaggerated gesture, she pointed towards Melissa's abs, her fingers mimicking the punches she had landed in the previous round. She taunted her, a wicked grin spreading across her face despite the evident exhaustion. The stadium, once alive with the roar of the crowd, was now filled with boos echoing from every corner. Clearly, the spectators were not on Demi's side. They were rooting for Melissa, their cheers and whistles attempting to drown out Demi's mockery. Despite the taunts and the daunting battle ahead, Melissa remained stoic, her face reflecting not a hint of intimidation. She tightened her battered abs, a silent rebuttal to Demi's jeering. The gaze that met Demi's was one of defiance, silently vowing retribution in the upcoming round.
Round 05:
Round Five commenced, a moment of retribution for Melissa Benoist. With an icy determination etched on her face, she launched herself at Demi Lovato. A rapid-fire succession of jabs squarely hit Demi's eyes, gashing her forehead open and splattering crimson droplets across the canvas. A bone-crushing jab to the nose ensued, followed by a crippling punch to Demi's soft belly. The once vibrant arena fell into a stunned silence as Demi crumpled onto the canvas, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.
The referee initiated the count, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet. Demi, splayed on the canvas, was a picture of defeat. But to everyone's surprise, she began to move. With a visible effort, she slowly raised herself to her feet, her body trembling as the crowd held its collective breath.
The match resumed, and Melissa resumed her assault, pushing Demi back against the ropes. With a ferocity that was chilling, she unleashed a devastating onslaught of punches to Demi's now vulnerable belly. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, causing Demi's body to convulse under the impact. Demi's pained cries filled the ringside, each gasp a testament to the brutality of Melissa's assault.
The relentless, vicious assault was too much for Demi to handle, and too brutal for the referee to let continue. With a swift intervention, he stepped between the two fighters, signaling the end of the match. As Melissa backed away, her hands raised in undisputed victory, Demi slumped against the ropes, her body finally surrendering to the relentless assault. The crowd erupted into cheers, their roars echoing in Melissa's triumphant wake.
Official Decision: Melissa Benoist defeats Demi Lovato via TKO 5!
AFTER:
As the arena roared with applause, Melissa Benoist held aloft a microphone in her victorious arm while her other arm was raised in triumph. She stood there, a living testament of grit and determination, her body bathed in the harsh white glow of the flashbulbs. Photographers swarmed around her, capturing her moment of glory. Meanwhile, a crestfallen Demi Lovato was led away from the limelight, tears streaming down her bruised and battered face. However, amidst the victorious celebration, Melissa sharply turned her attention towards the retreating figure of Demi. Raising the microphone to her squared jaw, she voiced a final, stinging remark that echoed off the hanging silence, "This is why you don't let a chubby girl box." The spectators and announcers were taken aback by the harsh jibe. A murmur swept through the crowd as Melissa's words hung in the air, adding the final insult to Demi Lovato's injury. The stadium fell into a stunned silence, the announcers too aghast to comment on what had just transpired.
Regaining their composure, the announcers took a deep breath, cleared their throats, and took their place at the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen," one began, his voice ringing out over the stunned silence, "We have witnessed a brutal spectacle tonight. A victor has emerged. Melissa Benoist, a queen among fighters, has claimed the first match in the 'Queens versus the World' event!"
The crowd erupted into applause, a crescendo of sound that filled the arena. The echo of Melissa's victory still reverberated in the air as the second announcer took over, his voice steady despite the electrifying atmosphere. "But stay tuned, folks. The night is not over yet. Up next, we have the 'Armageddon Goddesses' bout, a face-off that promises to be every bit as thrilling. Get ready to witness Monica Ollander take on VIXEN's own Alexis Ren. It's going to be a showdown like no other, so don't you dare blink!"
The anticipation hung thick in the air as the first fight's aftermath was cleared away, the stage set for the next epic confrontation.