Vanessa Hudgens versus Michelle Williams (Flyweight Title)
Aug 31, 2018 23:21:33 GMT -6
Vassago, Bonzo, and 1 more like this
Post by Lookout! Boxing on Aug 31, 2018 23:21:33 GMT -6
Vanessa Hudgens vs. Michelle Williams (Unified Flyweight Championship)
BEFORE: The cameras click in a dozen staccato bursts, like insects chirping during a summer’s twilight. The reason is clear. A Hall of Famer is heading to the podium for what might be her last title match press conference.
Michelle Williams, dressed simply in a black tank top and similarly-hued denim with crisp, dark Air Jordans, strides purposefully to the stage. The long-time veteran acknowledges the most silent crowd of journalists with a nod, a wink, and a wave. She ascends the steps and settles comfortably behind the podium.
Mishy had been a part of so many of these over the years, the many years, it was hard to get too excited or nervous, but this one is noticeably different and so is Williams. She ruffles her platinum blonde pixie cut with a sweep of her left set of fingers.
“It almost feels good to be the challenger. I get to go first and I can get an word in edgewise without the so-called Conqueror cutting in like the brat she is.”
Michelle can’t stop her Cupid’s Arrow lips from curling into a grin, if a small one.
“Let’s get the tough stuff out of the way. She’s beat me three of the last four. Knocked me out. Retired me once. I will say those four matches averaged AVERAGED almost 12 rounds a fight.
“What does that mean? First, they’re evenly matched. Vanessa can come out here and say otherwise and she probably will, but they were all down to the wire. Second. Some people say her fitness is wearing me out. Twelve rounds. Fifteen rounds. She’s just too fit for me at that point. Or too young. Or both.
“Who knows? Results don’t generally lie. I’ll let all you future Pulitzer winners decide. Whether it’s true or not, I let you and her know right now I’m coming out to destroy Vanessa in the same amount of time I smoked her sister.
“She’s gonna be hurting after two rounds and she might just pack it in like Lil Sis. I’m not predictin’, I’m just sayin’.”
Mishy smiles and opens her arms wide to show she’s ready for questions.
“Why do you think Vanessa is giving you this shot? It can be more difficult beating someone who looked like she forgot to take her Centrum Silver.”
“Cool it, bozo,” Michelle interrupts with a sneer. “Cat is a hell of a fighter. OK was a hell of a fighter. She doesn’t deserve shyt from the likes of you. Look. Hudgens is all ego. You bruise that, you’ve got her eatin’ out of your hand. And I am a top contender. The stats don’t lie. So it’s not like I don’t deserve it.
“And she’s not afraid of me. I’m not going to avoid the obvious. She’s gracing me with her presence because she believes she’ll beat me again, maybe retire me again. She figures it’s a breeze with the added bonus of selling more of those cheesy ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ t-shirts she peddles on the street corners she frequents, while out getting another Oscar nomination. Hey. We all have our day jobs.”
“Since you bought it up, will you retire if you lose to the champ?”
“I already said I won’t ask for another title shot if I don’t get it done at Boiling Point. If she beats me four out of five, she deserves to be rid of me for good. She can call herself Conqueror and I’ll bow down. But no, I’m not going to quit the game. I still have plenty of ingénues I can I batter around. I can make myself useful for a couple more years. Let’s shoot for forty. I get there and someone hasn’t turned my lights to dim, I’ll have to consider moving on.”
“You’re kidding.”
A familiar voice comes from stage left.
“You’re really going to be so pathetic as to put your career on life support after I’ve killed it?”
Mishy shakes her head, staring down at the dais in disappointment, realizing the champ is here.
Vanessa Hudgens struts out, confidently smirking as the press corps is buzzing instantly as she is clad in a tight black tanktop of her own with the words ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ written across her chest in neon-pink letters and a matching pair of shorts, with matching Adidas carrying her to the podium. Nessa pulled off a pair of glasses with one hand to wave to the press as she held a magazine in the other hand, which was currently rolled up.
“There are few things more embarrassing than seeing one of your heroes become all washed up and make no mistake, Mishy USED to be one of my heroes. But, you know what they say about meeting your heroes, so once I realized what an arrogant bytch she was, I had to be one to break her…” Vanessa grinned, pounding her fist emphatically on the podium, “But, I don’t want to talk about that blonde bimbo, I want to take a moment to talk to you about Pavlov…”
The entire assembled Press corps and even Mishy seemed a little confused about the sudden turn as Nessa chuckled, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Ivan Pavlov. He’s a Russian psychologist that noticed dogs seemed to salivate whenever he walked into the room, much like you and Mishy did when I walked into the room…” as Hudgens smirked, tossing a handkerchief over to a suddenly furious Williams, “That’s for you to clean up your drool, dumba**.” Mishy almost leapt to her feet right there as the security staff strongly encouraged her to sit down, which she did, reluctantly and fuming as she tore the handkerchief to shreds.
“Now, just like Mishy, whenever Pav or his assistant walked into the room, the dogs expected food and started to drool. So, he tried something to where he would ring a bell whenever he gave them food and then, the dogs associated the bell with food and would salivate just for the freakin’ bell. This was called a learned and conditioned response, so now I’m sure you’re wondering how this all relates to Mushy over here…”
“I know you’re not about to compare me to a dog…” Mishy snarled, getting to her feet again as security held her back.
Nessa whirled on the spot, extending the magazine towards Mishy as she snarled, “Hush, Mishy. It’s my turn and to be honest, has been since I came into this league. Your time is, as it has been for a good, long time - over.” as she brought one finger up to her lips, “Shush.”
It took several security guards to hold Mishy back this time, but Vanessa turned back to the podium, unconcerned as she continued, “Besides the fact that she drools over food and me, Mishy has also been conditioned. Her body has learned by now, also from the sound of the bell, to quit whenever a match against me starts. Pavlov also stated that the two stimuli, the bell and me, have to occur close together. So, Mishy sees me and hears the bell, then her body just quits. Now, no question, Mishy is proud and holds on for as long as she can, but in the end, she is going to quit. Her body can’t freaking help it, so when I break her spirit once and for all, don’t blame her too much. It’s simply psychology, bytches. Nobody has beaten Mishy three times in a row, although some have come close, but I am going to do it. And when I do, this little puppy is going to end up just like this headline says…” as Vanessa unfurled the magazine, which was a copy of FCBA Magazine which prominently displayed a picture of Vanessa sitting with her pert bottom across the face of Michelle Williams and read: “MICHELLE WILLIAMS BROKEN.”, from the recent 10th Anniversary event of Lookout! Boxing.
Vanessa let the press take several photos of her holding that magazine up, then rolled it up and then spun towards Mishy as she smirked, “And if her body doesn’t quit right away like I know I will, then I will have to spank her nose and her chubby butt with a rolled-up newspaper…”
Ever since Nessa had uttered the word ‘puppy’, security had been struggling to hold back Michelle Williams and had been, in fact, finding it increasingly difficult to do so throughout Nessa’s press conference. But, now with Nessa threatening to spank her like an impertinent pup, pointing the magazine into her face like a threat, it was all too much. Too much for Mishy as she tore free of security, with a surprising amount of strength and fury as she launched herself into a shocked Vanessa Hudgens.
The assembled press corps moved out of the way as Mishy tackled her off of the stage, just sending them crashing to the floor with a heavy THUD. Both Mishy and Nessa had the wind knocked out of them from the collision with the floor, but it was Hudgens who took the brunt of the blow as the two of them quickly rolled again. But, it didn’t take long for Williams to send a breathless Hudgens sprawling to her back as Mishy tore at Nessa’s tanktop with one hand to try to tear the ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ top away from Hudgens’ taut body as she started pounding at Nessa’s exposed abs with the other as she screamed down at Hudgens, “Do I look broken to you, huh? Do I, bytch? HUH? DO I?” Although she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, right now, Mishy looked very rabid indeed with her eyes filled with rage and hatred as she punched wildly at Hudgens’ famous tummy.
By this time, security had swarmed to the scene as they pulled Mishy and Nessa to their feet as they were kicking and cursing at one another. Both of them were glaring at one another, chests heaving and looking positively furious as Nessa managed to rip free of several security guards and pounced on Mishy as she tried to wrap her arms around Mishy, trying to push her head down towards her tummy, panting out breathless, “You can pound on it all you want, but in the end, you’re going to be worshipping it, you dumb bimbo…” Nessa was barely able to get the words out before a furious Mishy and security staff managed to pull her away as Mishy hissed, “You aren’t the fittest and you will never conquer me…”. Nessa was yanked away, tearing Mishy’s top away as the two of them were clad in their bras, both of them showcasing their orbs which had jugged their rival out on more than one occasion, as the press corps was going wild. More security showed up to pull the two apart and more importantly, keep them apart as the press conference had led to even more fireworks, verbal and otherwise, than anticipated.
Come the night of the fight, there wasn’t a seat to be found in the house as nobody would dare miss this battle. Mishy arrived wearing her famous zebra-print twist tie-bikini top and matching bottoms, blonde hair close around her face as she looked intense. While Mishy’s bikini top had mixed luck over the years, although clearly she was hoping to reverse that tonight. On the other hand, Nessa was clad in a leopard-print twist-tie bikini top and matching bottoms, holding up the flyweight title as she confidently headed to the ring as the referee read out the rules for the fight, though as the two stared each other down, it was unclear if either of them were listening much less cared. The ref didn’t even ask them to touch gloves, just stepped out of the way and rang the bell to start the highly anticipated this battle on the beach...
ROUND ONE:
Not a lot of mystery here, obviously, as the two fighters have been in the ring together many times, and, in fact, this is their fourth tilt in the last two years. Everyone knows what the fight plans will be, 'Nessa looking to stick and move, use her superior quickness and athleticism, while Michelle looks to offset that with her Hall of Fame experience and unmatched technique. And, considering that previous battles have shown exactly how evenly the two fighters are matched, it's no surprise that things are very even in the first stanza. It's, as usual in these situations, a case of each fighter being able to do some of what she wants to do, but not enough of it to her liking. Result is a nip and tuck round that's anyone's for the taking for the entirety of the three minutes. But, when that time period comes to an end, it's Hudgens who's done just a bit more and claimed the crucial points.
ROUND TWO:
Second starts the way the first ended, but doesn't stay that way for long. 'Nessa's gets rolling pretty quickly, getting her timing down and beginning to find loads of empty space. Mishy tries to cut the ring down and create the kinds of exchanges she needs to get her box on, but she's mostly unable to do it. Instead, Hudgens is ranging around the ring, snapping that jab, beating the blonde to punches, stopping, popping quick combinations, and then getting back rolling again. Williams gamely works her feet, trying to run the brunette to ground, but the champion's just too quick and too slick. She's touching up the blonde, frustrating her, and enjoying every minute of it. Final seconds see a lightning-fast flurry from the champion that snaps back the challenger's head and forces her to cover up. 'Nessa then dances away smiling, having won the round wide and taken a 20-18 lead.
ROUND THREE:
Hudgens romping. This thing is quickly getting out of hand. Vanessa's simply leading the blonde on a merry chase. Well. It's merry for the champion, who's dancing all over the sand out-maneuvering the challenger, snapping jabs in her face, slipping punches, and generally making the blonde's life miserable. There were those who, coming into this thing, thought the sand would give Williams an advantage, as it would slow down Hudgens. Well. Those folks look like blithering idiots, because Vanessa's moving as well as ever and she's making Michelle look slow and plodding by comparison. Again, the blonde Hall of Famer is game. She's working hard. But, she's getting nothing from her efforts save leather in the face. Lots and lots of leather in the face. When the bell finally sounds ending the third, Williams' lips are puffy and she's looking both scuffed and discouraged. It's 'Nessa wide again. And, it's 30-27.
ROUND FOUR:
It gets worse. Brunette piling on both the punishment and the humiliation. She's dancing rings around Mishy, snapping her head back again and again with hard jabs, mixing in right hand leads. Williams, frustration growing, continues to try to fire back in counter, only to have 'Nessa easily block or slip the rejoinders, then fire back with lightning combinations. By the middle of the round, the champion's doing shimmies, clowning for the fans, swinging the left hand like a bolo than snapping the right into Mishy's face. Hall of Famer SEETHING. And, again, the champion's loving it. Nadir for the blonde comes when the brunette gives her the "Sugar Ray", sticking out the chin and daring Williams to swing. Unlike Duran, Mishy doesn't take the bait. But, it's the only thing that goes right for her for three minutes. At the bell, 'Nessa's pitched a shutout and built a huge 40-36 edge.
ROUND FIVE:
'Nessa's roll slows. It's imperceptible at first, except to Williams. But, all of a sudden, the champion isn't moving as quickly. Oh, she's still dancing and snapping out those jabs, but, now Michelle's able to run her to ground, cut the ring, create exchanges, box with. And, that quickly, things change. No longer having to spend all her time chasing the champion, the challenger's able to get her offense going. She's angling, getting to her spots, playing geometrical games, all the stuff Williams does so well. 'Nessa holds her own on these terms, mind. That quickness of hand is still there, and she's able to get punches off and get them on target, but, for the first time since the opening round, we have a good, two-way stanza. Things, in fact, are in doubt until late, but, Mishy's able to put together some nice flurries in the final 30 seconds to grab the points and get on the board, cutting the champion's lead to 49-46.
ROUND SIX:
'Nessa slowing even more. All of a sudden, the brunette's legs aren't nearly as springy. And, the blonde's taking full advantage of same. Williams now stepping to, working body along with the head, crowing 'Nessa, using slickness and skill to find openings for her own leather while minimizing opportunities for her rival's. Slowly, then quickly, and, finally, completely, Michelle Williams takes control. Could it have been only about five minutes ago when Hudgens was dancing around humiliating the blonde? Was that in THIS fight? It certainly doesn't seem that way as Michelle punishes Vanessa, working over those abs she's so proud of, backing her up, forcing her to cover up, snapping her head back with barrage after barrage of accurate punches. By the time the bell rings, Williams has grabbed the round wide and now trails 58-56.
ROUND SEVEN:
Tongues wagging at ringside among the assembled "experts". Has the sand proven an ally of Williams', only in an unexpected way? Has The Fittest Flyweight, a girl who can box ten rounds and still be fit for another ten, been done in by dancing around, not on canvas, but on sand, which makes movement more difficult and requires the use of more energy for same? There's no way of knowing, but, one thing's for certain, whatever the reason, 'Nessa's legs aren't what they were early in the fight, and without them, she's taking a licking from a determined Michelle. Just as she did in the last round, Williams is stepping to, crowding, working body, and sitting down on punches to the head. Now, it's the champion who's gamely trying to fight back only to find those efforts frustrated. She's constantly on the defensive, spending all her time covering up and giving ground and only rarely able to fire back. By the bell, Hudgens is puffing up and Williams has claimed her third straight round, this one wide again, to cut Hudgens' lead to 67-66.
ROUND EIGHT:
Another ringside theory makes the, um, rounds between rounds. Was it all a ploy? Did cagey veteran Michelle dupe her arch rival? Did Williams play wounded duck and game Hudgens into wearing herself out playing Duran Duran's "Rio"? Again, we'll never know, but it's obvious that, strategy or not, Hudgens' awesome gams are all but done. The brunette is close to stationary now, and, again, that's exactly where Michelle wants her. And, if the sixth and seventh were bad for the champion, the eighth is worse. She's not just taking a beating now, she's getting carved apart by one of the most talented butchers in the history of the FCBA. 'Nessa's body, including those awesome abs, is pinking up and her lovely face is beginning to bust up. And, as much as Hudgens enjoyed humiliating the blonde in the early rounds, Michelle's loving breaking down the brunette late. When the bell, mercifully, ends the one-sided eighth, Williams has a shutout. And the fight is even at 76.
ROUND NINE:
Only question now seems to be if 'Nessa can last the next six minutes. There's absolutely NO question about how things are going to end up. The brunette's lead is as gone as her legs, and Williams gets right back to abusing her as the ninth begins. Hudgens in desperate straights, as, for the fourth consecutive stanza, she's taking a thrashing and can seemingly do nothing about...BOOM! Right-hand counter Hudgens! Williams is HURT! Michelle staggers, stumbles, EATS a right and DOWN GOES WILLIAMS! Crowd going NUTS! Hudgens may have pulled a rabbit out of her hat. 'Nessa to a neutral corner as the count begins. Mishy pushes to hands and knees, gets to her feet at eight. Referee gives her the mandatory and waives on Vanessa. Hudgens wades in, throwing everything she has at the blonde in a desperate attempt to end it. Mishy’s bullied to the ropes and ‘Nessa lathers the zebra stripes of the blonde’s top with swabbing blows that have Mishy groaning, tempest tossed. The infamous twist-tie is loosened with the unforgiving jugg attack, a heartless Nessa taking rack by the fistful. Mishy going pale and decrepit, bent over, her gurls battered relentlessly until, her tie is UNDONE!
The platinum blonde’s modest bounty is released, the fleshy teardrops acting as a red flag to Nessa’s bull. Hudgens can’t help herself and Mishy can’t seem to stop her, the crowd roaring at the sight of a topless Mishy’s chest being ravaged by Hudgens, Nessa tawdry, reveling in the guilty pleasure of taking bare bosom. Mishy's rope bound for over a minute of the callous spectacle, but she hangs on to the bell. The damage, however, is done in the form of a 10-8 physical and emotionally devastating round for Williams, Hudgens, going back on the lead 86-84. Consortium corner men work feverishly to tie Mishy’s breasts back in place behind her black-n-white stripes, the blonde’s head droopy as she tries to sniffle back sobs.
ROUND TEN:
'Nessa all in. The plan here is survival. Get to the bell on her feet, and this fight is hers. Mishy still buzzed, but, desperate times and all that. She's after Hudgens immediately, winging away at her right off the bell. Vanessa giving ground, staying on defense, fighting in the counter, all about running clock. But, all that goes out the window after a left hook from Williams. DOWN GOES 'NESSA! Replays show it's part punch, part stumbling, part weary legs, but none of that matters. Vanessa hits the sand on her rump, Michelle heads to a neutral corner and the count begins. Hudgens pounds the sand three times before standing. She takes the mandatory and ON COMES MISHY. No chance to run clock now, 'Nessa has to fight, and she does so desperately. She digs in, fires back SNARLING at her rival. Result is a series of NASTY exchanges that use up the last of the reserves of the two flyweights. Hudgens holding her own and more, actually backing up Michelle at times. Down the stretch, though, there's nothing left for 'Nessa. Her offense slows, then stops, and Mishy finds something in the tank. Mishy , just targeting those jugs like there’s no tomorrow and for Mishy, maybe there isn’t. Mish just unloading wildly, gloves a blur and then something breaks. Mishy would tell you it’s probably Nessa’s spirit, but more tangibly, for the first time in their rivalry, Nessa’s own famous leopard-print twist tie snaps. Vanessa in horror, eyes widening and glistening with ‘how-could-you’ tears as she reaches up, desperately trying to keep those jugs from spilling free, but fails as it just happens too fast for her to react. The crowd wanting to get a good look at a topless Nessa, but can’t get a clear look at her orbs as her rapidly reddening rack is getting hammered and humbled by a relentless Mishy. Vanessa’s defense drops to try to cover her cleavage in vain as she tries to keep from openly sobbing or more importantly, from Mishy taking control. However, the blonde seizing the opening and throwing everything left in the magazines at the brunette, ROCKS HER WITH A RIGHT HAND! 'Nessa stumbles into the ropes and Mishy GOES TO TOWN. She's letting years of frustration and tons of hatred out with snarls of her own. Champion hanging on desperately, taking a terrific beating and IT'S OVER! The referee leaps in and bundles 'Nessa to safety! Hudgens screaming 'No! No! No!' as Williams falls to her knees in the sand looking up at the sunlit sky in a combination of exultation and exhaustion. Only a sudden downpour standing between this and a movie ending! Your winner by TKO10 and NEW Unified Flyweight Champion is Michelle Williams!
AFTER:
Mishy quickly works at her gloves with flashing pearlies, stretching the lacing with her teeth, loosening her tools and shaking them off, the new champion beaming. The ref intercedes as Mish rises and moves toward the Lookout! Corner. He tries to hand the blonde her newly won belt, but Williams tells him to give it to a nearby Natalie Portman for safekeeping.
Mishy nudges the man aside, stepping through the sand to the haggard heap that is a seated Nessa. The champ shoves the corner man aside, the buffoon having relieved Hudgens of her gloves, and sinks one set of fingers into Nessa’s ebony mane while cupping the opposite set under her chin.
“Upsa-daisy,” Williams sing-songs.
Mishy pulls Vanessa off her stool and pivots to send a pointed knee DEEP into Nessa’s glorious but bruised and splotchy abs. Hudgens retches from being impaled, doubling over and gasping in front of the glistening, revenge-hungry Hall-of-Famer.
Williams elevates Nessa’s head with her cupped hand so the rivals’ eyes meet.
“You’re not looking so fit, sweetheart.”
Michelle straightens and bullies Hudgens into a brief backpedal, going jugg to jugg with the former champ until Nessa’s spine hits the corner. Trapped, Nessa’s dark eyes betray the fear in her heart. She timidly and weakly resists the invasion of her space but is quickly overwhelmed, Michelle stepping to the middle ropes and serving the wilting Nessa a full meal of ivory-skinned tummy.
Mishy swaths her midriff across the features of the loser, wiping the rolling beads of sweat into those on Hudgens’ mug then stuffing her abdomen forward, making the Lookout! standard-bearer taste tummy and inhale abs. Williams raises her arms triumphantly overhead, reveling in the roar of the beachgoers, the makeshift steel bleachers clanging loudly as the assembled stomp their feet in the new champ’s honor.
After a dozen seconds of playing to the crowd, Mishy drops her feet to the sand and decides to play with a flaccid Nessa. Hudgens gets her palms to Mishy’s shoulders and tries to push the rampaging Williams off, but in her condition it’s no use and the blonde forces Nessa toward her second course.
“You wanted to mug me?” Williams growls. “Mug my gurls? Well. Get a closer look!”
Mishy wraps her arms around the back of Nessa’s noggin and pulls the dipped head of her rival into the still loose zebra twist-tie and the modest mammaries beneath. Though only a B-cup, Mishy uses her juggs effectively, forcing her foe’s nose and lips into sweaty, satiny breathlessness. Hudgens’ charcoal peepers poke out the top, flashing to and fro. Her weakened body flails, if feebly. Nessa’s oh-so-fit legs wobble and grow rubbery, lids fluttering as she breathes deeply of Mishy’s bosom and little else.
Sensing Hudgens is about to fall into hibernation, Williams won’t have it. She peels her chest off the greasy features of the defeated and spins Vanessa so her foe’s back is on the firing line. Mish sends a sledgehammer forearm between Hudgens’ shoulderblades to help ‘wake’ the semiconscious beauty, the raven-haired loser lurching forward, backbone arching as she winces in pain. Her arms flop over the top rope on either side of the corner to remain upright.
The new champ isn’t satisfied. She lifts one of Nessa’s trembling coppery-hued stems and folds it over the middle rope on the left, then does likewise to the right lower limb. With Hudgens seated precariously, staring anxiety-ridden into the bleachers, beach and rumbling surf no more than thirty yards away now with the tide approaching, Michelle trundles to the opposite portion of the squared off parcel of sand. She turns and races, as best she can, toward parting Hudgens’ cheeks with a boot to the backside.
On impact, Nessa elevates; yipping, grimacing and reaching for her throbbing derriere before Mishy fashions her right hand into a paddle and swats the stinging tush of the beaten brat.
“Say it. Loud and clear! Who’s your conqueror, b*tch?” Michelle bellows.
“F*ck you!” Nessa replies defiantly, even as her lower lip trembles after another cracking WHACK to the bum.
“If you want to go back to sleep and wake up with the rest of the beachcombing bums, I can arrange it,” Mishy responds.
Hudgens isn’t verbal but still, she shakes her head emphatically.
Mishy shrugs. “You forced me. I didn’t want to. Ah hell. Yes I did.”
Williams ‘helps’ Nessa dismount the rubber-coated steel of the cables and throws her between the top and middle strands, Hudgens eating a face full of sand outside the squared circle, the fans in the vicinity backing away cautiously as Mishy slides through to join the fittest failure in the FCBA.
Collecting the tawny-skinned pugilist by her dark locks when Nessa pushes up to wobbly hands and knees, Williams leads the former champ toward the lapping surf as if on a ebony leash. She tosses Hudgens into a barrel roll, Nessa ending on her back, a wave lightly brushing her then drawing back to the sea.
Mishy stands in a reverse-facing straddle of Nessa’s noggin. The platinum pixie slowly lowers to her haunches over a wide-eyed and squirming Hudgens. Mish leans forward, pressing her palms down on Vanessa’s bosom to keep the defeated from twisting and turning, then lowers her backside on Nessa’s flawless features.
“Don’t you darMPPPHH…”
Hudgens’ complaint is muffled as her face is buried in Mishy’s undercarriage. Nessa’s body spasms wildly as she tries to unseat her most bitter foe, but is unable. Not all that slowly, her fight fades and Williams sits atop a stilled Nessa. Mish rises gently to a full kneel, Vanessa’s greasy, sleepy mug emerging beneath.
Mishy spins in a 180, ending in a kneeling straddle of Nessa’s chest, staring down gleefully at the snoozing visage of the infamous Conqueror of Mishy, a woman that had once retired her in ignominy and defeated her with regularity over the last few years.
“You’re SO much less annoying when you’re not talking,” Michelle chuckles. “But I need to hear a few words.”
A voice comes from her side.
“Can I help?”
Natalie, friend and provocateur, holds a large pail filled to the brim with water.
“You’re a sweetheart, Nat.”
“And I won’t even demand a title shot.”
Mishy snorts and accepts her gift. She moves it over Nessa’s face and dumps the gallon of H2O atop the beaten boxer.
Vanessa sputters back to consciousness, spitting bubbles and sea water from between her lips before realizing where she is, Mishy’s shins atop her biceps, Williams’ ivory stems folded and bracketing Vanessa’s braincase.
“Welcome back, Nessa,” Mishy offers with a sneer. “Now tell me and these good people the truth. It’s just that easy.”
Hudgens snorts and struggles for a moment, but when Mishy starts easing up her body, threatening another sitdown smother, she reconsiders. Nessa’s eyes widen slightly in horror at the prospect of another potential smother underneath Mishy’s breasts or disappearing underneath her backside yet again - neither option which is particularly enticing. Nessa kicks and twists, desperately, shaking her head as if to will herself her out of this situation, but Mishy just rides the bucking out and stares down Hudgens patiently.
Mishy’s lips curl up in a slight smirk as she sees the transformation taking over a defeated Hudgens as her eyes well up with confusion, frustration, fear, shame and of course, tears. Nessa’s sweaty bod hits the sand again, hearing the waves lapping around her body as she realizes once and for all she’s trapped under a dominant Williams. Gazing up at Michelle as she sees those modest, but malicious jugs heaving in and out in anticipation of swallowing up her face again, Nessa takes a deep breath as she can’t believe this is happening. Nessa’s own chest heaves gently against Mishy’s buns, trying to control her breathing as she tries to keep from panicking and hyperventilating. Shivering in rage and humiliation as she closes her eyes for a moment, realizing what has to happen as she fights back tears and a wave of revulsion.
Nessa bites her bottom lip for a moment, trying to keep herself from having to speak but as she feels Mishy shift again, her whole body trembles and when her eyes snap open, it’s a submissive gaze and Mishy can barely keep from shouting in jubilation as she knows she’s won here tonight. Looking up at her tormentress in a voice that sounds downright docile although tinged with a hint of barely concealed rage, Vanessa says the words that Mishy has been dying to hear...
“You’re the conqueror,” Nessa says, barely above a whisper.
“What?” Mishy parries. “I don’t believe I heard you.”
The blonde resumes her scoot.
“Michelle is my conqueror!” Vanessa shouts. “OK? You’re the Conqueror of Nessa!”
“And tell them Mishy is the brightest star in the heavens and I’m a lowly Disney scrub,” Williams insists.
Fuming but drained and supremely vulnerable, Vanessa capitulates.
“Michelle is the brightest star in the heavens.”
“LOUDER”
“AND I’M A LOWLY DISNEY SCRUB!”
“Good,” Mishy replies simply and softly.
She slides her knees backward but only so she can drop her bosom atop Nessa’s face instead of her rear. Slipping her arms behind the head and neck of the softly squirming Hudgens, the blonde pulls her victim into a snug fit and juggs out the limp leavings of a once proud champion.
With Nessa burbling spittle onto her gurls, Mishy pulls off the snoozing Hudgens and starts scooping wet sand in from either side. It’s hard work but Michelle is energized enough to bury the reclining Nessa from neck to toes in a heavy layer of sand, Hudgens sleeping beneath.
“Buried. Literally and figuratively. The perfect end to a perfect day,” Mishy pronounces.
The blonde rises, wipes her hands clean, and sweeps one set of fingers through her platinum bob.
“The conqueror is dead. Long live the conqueror.”
Mishy turns and walks up the beach toward her dressing tent, leaving Nessa for whatever clean-up crew or beachcomber who might consider her worth salvaging.
(Words: Front Street & HISC / Results: Lookout!)
BEFORE: The cameras click in a dozen staccato bursts, like insects chirping during a summer’s twilight. The reason is clear. A Hall of Famer is heading to the podium for what might be her last title match press conference.
Michelle Williams, dressed simply in a black tank top and similarly-hued denim with crisp, dark Air Jordans, strides purposefully to the stage. The long-time veteran acknowledges the most silent crowd of journalists with a nod, a wink, and a wave. She ascends the steps and settles comfortably behind the podium.
Mishy had been a part of so many of these over the years, the many years, it was hard to get too excited or nervous, but this one is noticeably different and so is Williams. She ruffles her platinum blonde pixie cut with a sweep of her left set of fingers.
“It almost feels good to be the challenger. I get to go first and I can get an word in edgewise without the so-called Conqueror cutting in like the brat she is.”
Michelle can’t stop her Cupid’s Arrow lips from curling into a grin, if a small one.
“Let’s get the tough stuff out of the way. She’s beat me three of the last four. Knocked me out. Retired me once. I will say those four matches averaged AVERAGED almost 12 rounds a fight.
“What does that mean? First, they’re evenly matched. Vanessa can come out here and say otherwise and she probably will, but they were all down to the wire. Second. Some people say her fitness is wearing me out. Twelve rounds. Fifteen rounds. She’s just too fit for me at that point. Or too young. Or both.
“Who knows? Results don’t generally lie. I’ll let all you future Pulitzer winners decide. Whether it’s true or not, I let you and her know right now I’m coming out to destroy Vanessa in the same amount of time I smoked her sister.
“She’s gonna be hurting after two rounds and she might just pack it in like Lil Sis. I’m not predictin’, I’m just sayin’.”
Mishy smiles and opens her arms wide to show she’s ready for questions.
“Why do you think Vanessa is giving you this shot? It can be more difficult beating someone who looked like she forgot to take her Centrum Silver.”
“Cool it, bozo,” Michelle interrupts with a sneer. “Cat is a hell of a fighter. OK was a hell of a fighter. She doesn’t deserve shyt from the likes of you. Look. Hudgens is all ego. You bruise that, you’ve got her eatin’ out of your hand. And I am a top contender. The stats don’t lie. So it’s not like I don’t deserve it.
“And she’s not afraid of me. I’m not going to avoid the obvious. She’s gracing me with her presence because she believes she’ll beat me again, maybe retire me again. She figures it’s a breeze with the added bonus of selling more of those cheesy ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ t-shirts she peddles on the street corners she frequents, while out getting another Oscar nomination. Hey. We all have our day jobs.”
“Since you bought it up, will you retire if you lose to the champ?”
“I already said I won’t ask for another title shot if I don’t get it done at Boiling Point. If she beats me four out of five, she deserves to be rid of me for good. She can call herself Conqueror and I’ll bow down. But no, I’m not going to quit the game. I still have plenty of ingénues I can I batter around. I can make myself useful for a couple more years. Let’s shoot for forty. I get there and someone hasn’t turned my lights to dim, I’ll have to consider moving on.”
“You’re kidding.”
A familiar voice comes from stage left.
“You’re really going to be so pathetic as to put your career on life support after I’ve killed it?”
Mishy shakes her head, staring down at the dais in disappointment, realizing the champ is here.
Vanessa Hudgens struts out, confidently smirking as the press corps is buzzing instantly as she is clad in a tight black tanktop of her own with the words ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ written across her chest in neon-pink letters and a matching pair of shorts, with matching Adidas carrying her to the podium. Nessa pulled off a pair of glasses with one hand to wave to the press as she held a magazine in the other hand, which was currently rolled up.
“There are few things more embarrassing than seeing one of your heroes become all washed up and make no mistake, Mishy USED to be one of my heroes. But, you know what they say about meeting your heroes, so once I realized what an arrogant bytch she was, I had to be one to break her…” Vanessa grinned, pounding her fist emphatically on the podium, “But, I don’t want to talk about that blonde bimbo, I want to take a moment to talk to you about Pavlov…”
The entire assembled Press corps and even Mishy seemed a little confused about the sudden turn as Nessa chuckled, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Ivan Pavlov. He’s a Russian psychologist that noticed dogs seemed to salivate whenever he walked into the room, much like you and Mishy did when I walked into the room…” as Hudgens smirked, tossing a handkerchief over to a suddenly furious Williams, “That’s for you to clean up your drool, dumba**.” Mishy almost leapt to her feet right there as the security staff strongly encouraged her to sit down, which she did, reluctantly and fuming as she tore the handkerchief to shreds.
“Now, just like Mishy, whenever Pav or his assistant walked into the room, the dogs expected food and started to drool. So, he tried something to where he would ring a bell whenever he gave them food and then, the dogs associated the bell with food and would salivate just for the freakin’ bell. This was called a learned and conditioned response, so now I’m sure you’re wondering how this all relates to Mushy over here…”
“I know you’re not about to compare me to a dog…” Mishy snarled, getting to her feet again as security held her back.
Nessa whirled on the spot, extending the magazine towards Mishy as she snarled, “Hush, Mishy. It’s my turn and to be honest, has been since I came into this league. Your time is, as it has been for a good, long time - over.” as she brought one finger up to her lips, “Shush.”
It took several security guards to hold Mishy back this time, but Vanessa turned back to the podium, unconcerned as she continued, “Besides the fact that she drools over food and me, Mishy has also been conditioned. Her body has learned by now, also from the sound of the bell, to quit whenever a match against me starts. Pavlov also stated that the two stimuli, the bell and me, have to occur close together. So, Mishy sees me and hears the bell, then her body just quits. Now, no question, Mishy is proud and holds on for as long as she can, but in the end, she is going to quit. Her body can’t freaking help it, so when I break her spirit once and for all, don’t blame her too much. It’s simply psychology, bytches. Nobody has beaten Mishy three times in a row, although some have come close, but I am going to do it. And when I do, this little puppy is going to end up just like this headline says…” as Vanessa unfurled the magazine, which was a copy of FCBA Magazine which prominently displayed a picture of Vanessa sitting with her pert bottom across the face of Michelle Williams and read: “MICHELLE WILLIAMS BROKEN.”, from the recent 10th Anniversary event of Lookout! Boxing.
Vanessa let the press take several photos of her holding that magazine up, then rolled it up and then spun towards Mishy as she smirked, “And if her body doesn’t quit right away like I know I will, then I will have to spank her nose and her chubby butt with a rolled-up newspaper…”
Ever since Nessa had uttered the word ‘puppy’, security had been struggling to hold back Michelle Williams and had been, in fact, finding it increasingly difficult to do so throughout Nessa’s press conference. But, now with Nessa threatening to spank her like an impertinent pup, pointing the magazine into her face like a threat, it was all too much. Too much for Mishy as she tore free of security, with a surprising amount of strength and fury as she launched herself into a shocked Vanessa Hudgens.
The assembled press corps moved out of the way as Mishy tackled her off of the stage, just sending them crashing to the floor with a heavy THUD. Both Mishy and Nessa had the wind knocked out of them from the collision with the floor, but it was Hudgens who took the brunt of the blow as the two of them quickly rolled again. But, it didn’t take long for Williams to send a breathless Hudgens sprawling to her back as Mishy tore at Nessa’s tanktop with one hand to try to tear the ‘Conqueror of Mishy’ top away from Hudgens’ taut body as she started pounding at Nessa’s exposed abs with the other as she screamed down at Hudgens, “Do I look broken to you, huh? Do I, bytch? HUH? DO I?” Although she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, right now, Mishy looked very rabid indeed with her eyes filled with rage and hatred as she punched wildly at Hudgens’ famous tummy.
By this time, security had swarmed to the scene as they pulled Mishy and Nessa to their feet as they were kicking and cursing at one another. Both of them were glaring at one another, chests heaving and looking positively furious as Nessa managed to rip free of several security guards and pounced on Mishy as she tried to wrap her arms around Mishy, trying to push her head down towards her tummy, panting out breathless, “You can pound on it all you want, but in the end, you’re going to be worshipping it, you dumb bimbo…” Nessa was barely able to get the words out before a furious Mishy and security staff managed to pull her away as Mishy hissed, “You aren’t the fittest and you will never conquer me…”. Nessa was yanked away, tearing Mishy’s top away as the two of them were clad in their bras, both of them showcasing their orbs which had jugged their rival out on more than one occasion, as the press corps was going wild. More security showed up to pull the two apart and more importantly, keep them apart as the press conference had led to even more fireworks, verbal and otherwise, than anticipated.
Come the night of the fight, there wasn’t a seat to be found in the house as nobody would dare miss this battle. Mishy arrived wearing her famous zebra-print twist tie-bikini top and matching bottoms, blonde hair close around her face as she looked intense. While Mishy’s bikini top had mixed luck over the years, although clearly she was hoping to reverse that tonight. On the other hand, Nessa was clad in a leopard-print twist-tie bikini top and matching bottoms, holding up the flyweight title as she confidently headed to the ring as the referee read out the rules for the fight, though as the two stared each other down, it was unclear if either of them were listening much less cared. The ref didn’t even ask them to touch gloves, just stepped out of the way and rang the bell to start the highly anticipated this battle on the beach...
ROUND ONE:
Not a lot of mystery here, obviously, as the two fighters have been in the ring together many times, and, in fact, this is their fourth tilt in the last two years. Everyone knows what the fight plans will be, 'Nessa looking to stick and move, use her superior quickness and athleticism, while Michelle looks to offset that with her Hall of Fame experience and unmatched technique. And, considering that previous battles have shown exactly how evenly the two fighters are matched, it's no surprise that things are very even in the first stanza. It's, as usual in these situations, a case of each fighter being able to do some of what she wants to do, but not enough of it to her liking. Result is a nip and tuck round that's anyone's for the taking for the entirety of the three minutes. But, when that time period comes to an end, it's Hudgens who's done just a bit more and claimed the crucial points.
ROUND TWO:
Second starts the way the first ended, but doesn't stay that way for long. 'Nessa's gets rolling pretty quickly, getting her timing down and beginning to find loads of empty space. Mishy tries to cut the ring down and create the kinds of exchanges she needs to get her box on, but she's mostly unable to do it. Instead, Hudgens is ranging around the ring, snapping that jab, beating the blonde to punches, stopping, popping quick combinations, and then getting back rolling again. Williams gamely works her feet, trying to run the brunette to ground, but the champion's just too quick and too slick. She's touching up the blonde, frustrating her, and enjoying every minute of it. Final seconds see a lightning-fast flurry from the champion that snaps back the challenger's head and forces her to cover up. 'Nessa then dances away smiling, having won the round wide and taken a 20-18 lead.
ROUND THREE:
Hudgens romping. This thing is quickly getting out of hand. Vanessa's simply leading the blonde on a merry chase. Well. It's merry for the champion, who's dancing all over the sand out-maneuvering the challenger, snapping jabs in her face, slipping punches, and generally making the blonde's life miserable. There were those who, coming into this thing, thought the sand would give Williams an advantage, as it would slow down Hudgens. Well. Those folks look like blithering idiots, because Vanessa's moving as well as ever and she's making Michelle look slow and plodding by comparison. Again, the blonde Hall of Famer is game. She's working hard. But, she's getting nothing from her efforts save leather in the face. Lots and lots of leather in the face. When the bell finally sounds ending the third, Williams' lips are puffy and she's looking both scuffed and discouraged. It's 'Nessa wide again. And, it's 30-27.
ROUND FOUR:
It gets worse. Brunette piling on both the punishment and the humiliation. She's dancing rings around Mishy, snapping her head back again and again with hard jabs, mixing in right hand leads. Williams, frustration growing, continues to try to fire back in counter, only to have 'Nessa easily block or slip the rejoinders, then fire back with lightning combinations. By the middle of the round, the champion's doing shimmies, clowning for the fans, swinging the left hand like a bolo than snapping the right into Mishy's face. Hall of Famer SEETHING. And, again, the champion's loving it. Nadir for the blonde comes when the brunette gives her the "Sugar Ray", sticking out the chin and daring Williams to swing. Unlike Duran, Mishy doesn't take the bait. But, it's the only thing that goes right for her for three minutes. At the bell, 'Nessa's pitched a shutout and built a huge 40-36 edge.
ROUND FIVE:
'Nessa's roll slows. It's imperceptible at first, except to Williams. But, all of a sudden, the champion isn't moving as quickly. Oh, she's still dancing and snapping out those jabs, but, now Michelle's able to run her to ground, cut the ring, create exchanges, box with. And, that quickly, things change. No longer having to spend all her time chasing the champion, the challenger's able to get her offense going. She's angling, getting to her spots, playing geometrical games, all the stuff Williams does so well. 'Nessa holds her own on these terms, mind. That quickness of hand is still there, and she's able to get punches off and get them on target, but, for the first time since the opening round, we have a good, two-way stanza. Things, in fact, are in doubt until late, but, Mishy's able to put together some nice flurries in the final 30 seconds to grab the points and get on the board, cutting the champion's lead to 49-46.
ROUND SIX:
'Nessa slowing even more. All of a sudden, the brunette's legs aren't nearly as springy. And, the blonde's taking full advantage of same. Williams now stepping to, working body along with the head, crowing 'Nessa, using slickness and skill to find openings for her own leather while minimizing opportunities for her rival's. Slowly, then quickly, and, finally, completely, Michelle Williams takes control. Could it have been only about five minutes ago when Hudgens was dancing around humiliating the blonde? Was that in THIS fight? It certainly doesn't seem that way as Michelle punishes Vanessa, working over those abs she's so proud of, backing her up, forcing her to cover up, snapping her head back with barrage after barrage of accurate punches. By the time the bell rings, Williams has grabbed the round wide and now trails 58-56.
ROUND SEVEN:
Tongues wagging at ringside among the assembled "experts". Has the sand proven an ally of Williams', only in an unexpected way? Has The Fittest Flyweight, a girl who can box ten rounds and still be fit for another ten, been done in by dancing around, not on canvas, but on sand, which makes movement more difficult and requires the use of more energy for same? There's no way of knowing, but, one thing's for certain, whatever the reason, 'Nessa's legs aren't what they were early in the fight, and without them, she's taking a licking from a determined Michelle. Just as she did in the last round, Williams is stepping to, crowding, working body, and sitting down on punches to the head. Now, it's the champion who's gamely trying to fight back only to find those efforts frustrated. She's constantly on the defensive, spending all her time covering up and giving ground and only rarely able to fire back. By the bell, Hudgens is puffing up and Williams has claimed her third straight round, this one wide again, to cut Hudgens' lead to 67-66.
ROUND EIGHT:
Another ringside theory makes the, um, rounds between rounds. Was it all a ploy? Did cagey veteran Michelle dupe her arch rival? Did Williams play wounded duck and game Hudgens into wearing herself out playing Duran Duran's "Rio"? Again, we'll never know, but it's obvious that, strategy or not, Hudgens' awesome gams are all but done. The brunette is close to stationary now, and, again, that's exactly where Michelle wants her. And, if the sixth and seventh were bad for the champion, the eighth is worse. She's not just taking a beating now, she's getting carved apart by one of the most talented butchers in the history of the FCBA. 'Nessa's body, including those awesome abs, is pinking up and her lovely face is beginning to bust up. And, as much as Hudgens enjoyed humiliating the blonde in the early rounds, Michelle's loving breaking down the brunette late. When the bell, mercifully, ends the one-sided eighth, Williams has a shutout. And the fight is even at 76.
ROUND NINE:
Only question now seems to be if 'Nessa can last the next six minutes. There's absolutely NO question about how things are going to end up. The brunette's lead is as gone as her legs, and Williams gets right back to abusing her as the ninth begins. Hudgens in desperate straights, as, for the fourth consecutive stanza, she's taking a thrashing and can seemingly do nothing about...BOOM! Right-hand counter Hudgens! Williams is HURT! Michelle staggers, stumbles, EATS a right and DOWN GOES WILLIAMS! Crowd going NUTS! Hudgens may have pulled a rabbit out of her hat. 'Nessa to a neutral corner as the count begins. Mishy pushes to hands and knees, gets to her feet at eight. Referee gives her the mandatory and waives on Vanessa. Hudgens wades in, throwing everything she has at the blonde in a desperate attempt to end it. Mishy’s bullied to the ropes and ‘Nessa lathers the zebra stripes of the blonde’s top with swabbing blows that have Mishy groaning, tempest tossed. The infamous twist-tie is loosened with the unforgiving jugg attack, a heartless Nessa taking rack by the fistful. Mishy going pale and decrepit, bent over, her gurls battered relentlessly until, her tie is UNDONE!
The platinum blonde’s modest bounty is released, the fleshy teardrops acting as a red flag to Nessa’s bull. Hudgens can’t help herself and Mishy can’t seem to stop her, the crowd roaring at the sight of a topless Mishy’s chest being ravaged by Hudgens, Nessa tawdry, reveling in the guilty pleasure of taking bare bosom. Mishy's rope bound for over a minute of the callous spectacle, but she hangs on to the bell. The damage, however, is done in the form of a 10-8 physical and emotionally devastating round for Williams, Hudgens, going back on the lead 86-84. Consortium corner men work feverishly to tie Mishy’s breasts back in place behind her black-n-white stripes, the blonde’s head droopy as she tries to sniffle back sobs.
ROUND TEN:
'Nessa all in. The plan here is survival. Get to the bell on her feet, and this fight is hers. Mishy still buzzed, but, desperate times and all that. She's after Hudgens immediately, winging away at her right off the bell. Vanessa giving ground, staying on defense, fighting in the counter, all about running clock. But, all that goes out the window after a left hook from Williams. DOWN GOES 'NESSA! Replays show it's part punch, part stumbling, part weary legs, but none of that matters. Vanessa hits the sand on her rump, Michelle heads to a neutral corner and the count begins. Hudgens pounds the sand three times before standing. She takes the mandatory and ON COMES MISHY. No chance to run clock now, 'Nessa has to fight, and she does so desperately. She digs in, fires back SNARLING at her rival. Result is a series of NASTY exchanges that use up the last of the reserves of the two flyweights. Hudgens holding her own and more, actually backing up Michelle at times. Down the stretch, though, there's nothing left for 'Nessa. Her offense slows, then stops, and Mishy finds something in the tank. Mishy , just targeting those jugs like there’s no tomorrow and for Mishy, maybe there isn’t. Mish just unloading wildly, gloves a blur and then something breaks. Mishy would tell you it’s probably Nessa’s spirit, but more tangibly, for the first time in their rivalry, Nessa’s own famous leopard-print twist tie snaps. Vanessa in horror, eyes widening and glistening with ‘how-could-you’ tears as she reaches up, desperately trying to keep those jugs from spilling free, but fails as it just happens too fast for her to react. The crowd wanting to get a good look at a topless Nessa, but can’t get a clear look at her orbs as her rapidly reddening rack is getting hammered and humbled by a relentless Mishy. Vanessa’s defense drops to try to cover her cleavage in vain as she tries to keep from openly sobbing or more importantly, from Mishy taking control. However, the blonde seizing the opening and throwing everything left in the magazines at the brunette, ROCKS HER WITH A RIGHT HAND! 'Nessa stumbles into the ropes and Mishy GOES TO TOWN. She's letting years of frustration and tons of hatred out with snarls of her own. Champion hanging on desperately, taking a terrific beating and IT'S OVER! The referee leaps in and bundles 'Nessa to safety! Hudgens screaming 'No! No! No!' as Williams falls to her knees in the sand looking up at the sunlit sky in a combination of exultation and exhaustion. Only a sudden downpour standing between this and a movie ending! Your winner by TKO10 and NEW Unified Flyweight Champion is Michelle Williams!
AFTER:
Mishy quickly works at her gloves with flashing pearlies, stretching the lacing with her teeth, loosening her tools and shaking them off, the new champion beaming. The ref intercedes as Mish rises and moves toward the Lookout! Corner. He tries to hand the blonde her newly won belt, but Williams tells him to give it to a nearby Natalie Portman for safekeeping.
Mishy nudges the man aside, stepping through the sand to the haggard heap that is a seated Nessa. The champ shoves the corner man aside, the buffoon having relieved Hudgens of her gloves, and sinks one set of fingers into Nessa’s ebony mane while cupping the opposite set under her chin.
“Upsa-daisy,” Williams sing-songs.
Mishy pulls Vanessa off her stool and pivots to send a pointed knee DEEP into Nessa’s glorious but bruised and splotchy abs. Hudgens retches from being impaled, doubling over and gasping in front of the glistening, revenge-hungry Hall-of-Famer.
Williams elevates Nessa’s head with her cupped hand so the rivals’ eyes meet.
“You’re not looking so fit, sweetheart.”
Michelle straightens and bullies Hudgens into a brief backpedal, going jugg to jugg with the former champ until Nessa’s spine hits the corner. Trapped, Nessa’s dark eyes betray the fear in her heart. She timidly and weakly resists the invasion of her space but is quickly overwhelmed, Michelle stepping to the middle ropes and serving the wilting Nessa a full meal of ivory-skinned tummy.
Mishy swaths her midriff across the features of the loser, wiping the rolling beads of sweat into those on Hudgens’ mug then stuffing her abdomen forward, making the Lookout! standard-bearer taste tummy and inhale abs. Williams raises her arms triumphantly overhead, reveling in the roar of the beachgoers, the makeshift steel bleachers clanging loudly as the assembled stomp their feet in the new champ’s honor.
After a dozen seconds of playing to the crowd, Mishy drops her feet to the sand and decides to play with a flaccid Nessa. Hudgens gets her palms to Mishy’s shoulders and tries to push the rampaging Williams off, but in her condition it’s no use and the blonde forces Nessa toward her second course.
“You wanted to mug me?” Williams growls. “Mug my gurls? Well. Get a closer look!”
Mishy wraps her arms around the back of Nessa’s noggin and pulls the dipped head of her rival into the still loose zebra twist-tie and the modest mammaries beneath. Though only a B-cup, Mishy uses her juggs effectively, forcing her foe’s nose and lips into sweaty, satiny breathlessness. Hudgens’ charcoal peepers poke out the top, flashing to and fro. Her weakened body flails, if feebly. Nessa’s oh-so-fit legs wobble and grow rubbery, lids fluttering as she breathes deeply of Mishy’s bosom and little else.
Sensing Hudgens is about to fall into hibernation, Williams won’t have it. She peels her chest off the greasy features of the defeated and spins Vanessa so her foe’s back is on the firing line. Mish sends a sledgehammer forearm between Hudgens’ shoulderblades to help ‘wake’ the semiconscious beauty, the raven-haired loser lurching forward, backbone arching as she winces in pain. Her arms flop over the top rope on either side of the corner to remain upright.
The new champ isn’t satisfied. She lifts one of Nessa’s trembling coppery-hued stems and folds it over the middle rope on the left, then does likewise to the right lower limb. With Hudgens seated precariously, staring anxiety-ridden into the bleachers, beach and rumbling surf no more than thirty yards away now with the tide approaching, Michelle trundles to the opposite portion of the squared off parcel of sand. She turns and races, as best she can, toward parting Hudgens’ cheeks with a boot to the backside.
On impact, Nessa elevates; yipping, grimacing and reaching for her throbbing derriere before Mishy fashions her right hand into a paddle and swats the stinging tush of the beaten brat.
“Say it. Loud and clear! Who’s your conqueror, b*tch?” Michelle bellows.
“F*ck you!” Nessa replies defiantly, even as her lower lip trembles after another cracking WHACK to the bum.
“If you want to go back to sleep and wake up with the rest of the beachcombing bums, I can arrange it,” Mishy responds.
Hudgens isn’t verbal but still, she shakes her head emphatically.
Mishy shrugs. “You forced me. I didn’t want to. Ah hell. Yes I did.”
Williams ‘helps’ Nessa dismount the rubber-coated steel of the cables and throws her between the top and middle strands, Hudgens eating a face full of sand outside the squared circle, the fans in the vicinity backing away cautiously as Mishy slides through to join the fittest failure in the FCBA.
Collecting the tawny-skinned pugilist by her dark locks when Nessa pushes up to wobbly hands and knees, Williams leads the former champ toward the lapping surf as if on a ebony leash. She tosses Hudgens into a barrel roll, Nessa ending on her back, a wave lightly brushing her then drawing back to the sea.
Mishy stands in a reverse-facing straddle of Nessa’s noggin. The platinum pixie slowly lowers to her haunches over a wide-eyed and squirming Hudgens. Mish leans forward, pressing her palms down on Vanessa’s bosom to keep the defeated from twisting and turning, then lowers her backside on Nessa’s flawless features.
“Don’t you darMPPPHH…”
Hudgens’ complaint is muffled as her face is buried in Mishy’s undercarriage. Nessa’s body spasms wildly as she tries to unseat her most bitter foe, but is unable. Not all that slowly, her fight fades and Williams sits atop a stilled Nessa. Mish rises gently to a full kneel, Vanessa’s greasy, sleepy mug emerging beneath.
Mishy spins in a 180, ending in a kneeling straddle of Nessa’s chest, staring down gleefully at the snoozing visage of the infamous Conqueror of Mishy, a woman that had once retired her in ignominy and defeated her with regularity over the last few years.
“You’re SO much less annoying when you’re not talking,” Michelle chuckles. “But I need to hear a few words.”
A voice comes from her side.
“Can I help?”
Natalie, friend and provocateur, holds a large pail filled to the brim with water.
“You’re a sweetheart, Nat.”
“And I won’t even demand a title shot.”
Mishy snorts and accepts her gift. She moves it over Nessa’s face and dumps the gallon of H2O atop the beaten boxer.
Vanessa sputters back to consciousness, spitting bubbles and sea water from between her lips before realizing where she is, Mishy’s shins atop her biceps, Williams’ ivory stems folded and bracketing Vanessa’s braincase.
“Welcome back, Nessa,” Mishy offers with a sneer. “Now tell me and these good people the truth. It’s just that easy.”
Hudgens snorts and struggles for a moment, but when Mishy starts easing up her body, threatening another sitdown smother, she reconsiders. Nessa’s eyes widen slightly in horror at the prospect of another potential smother underneath Mishy’s breasts or disappearing underneath her backside yet again - neither option which is particularly enticing. Nessa kicks and twists, desperately, shaking her head as if to will herself her out of this situation, but Mishy just rides the bucking out and stares down Hudgens patiently.
Mishy’s lips curl up in a slight smirk as she sees the transformation taking over a defeated Hudgens as her eyes well up with confusion, frustration, fear, shame and of course, tears. Nessa’s sweaty bod hits the sand again, hearing the waves lapping around her body as she realizes once and for all she’s trapped under a dominant Williams. Gazing up at Michelle as she sees those modest, but malicious jugs heaving in and out in anticipation of swallowing up her face again, Nessa takes a deep breath as she can’t believe this is happening. Nessa’s own chest heaves gently against Mishy’s buns, trying to control her breathing as she tries to keep from panicking and hyperventilating. Shivering in rage and humiliation as she closes her eyes for a moment, realizing what has to happen as she fights back tears and a wave of revulsion.
Nessa bites her bottom lip for a moment, trying to keep herself from having to speak but as she feels Mishy shift again, her whole body trembles and when her eyes snap open, it’s a submissive gaze and Mishy can barely keep from shouting in jubilation as she knows she’s won here tonight. Looking up at her tormentress in a voice that sounds downright docile although tinged with a hint of barely concealed rage, Vanessa says the words that Mishy has been dying to hear...
“You’re the conqueror,” Nessa says, barely above a whisper.
“What?” Mishy parries. “I don’t believe I heard you.”
The blonde resumes her scoot.
“Michelle is my conqueror!” Vanessa shouts. “OK? You’re the Conqueror of Nessa!”
“And tell them Mishy is the brightest star in the heavens and I’m a lowly Disney scrub,” Williams insists.
Fuming but drained and supremely vulnerable, Vanessa capitulates.
“Michelle is the brightest star in the heavens.”
“LOUDER”
“AND I’M A LOWLY DISNEY SCRUB!”
“Good,” Mishy replies simply and softly.
She slides her knees backward but only so she can drop her bosom atop Nessa’s face instead of her rear. Slipping her arms behind the head and neck of the softly squirming Hudgens, the blonde pulls her victim into a snug fit and juggs out the limp leavings of a once proud champion.
With Nessa burbling spittle onto her gurls, Mishy pulls off the snoozing Hudgens and starts scooping wet sand in from either side. It’s hard work but Michelle is energized enough to bury the reclining Nessa from neck to toes in a heavy layer of sand, Hudgens sleeping beneath.
“Buried. Literally and figuratively. The perfect end to a perfect day,” Mishy pronounces.
The blonde rises, wipes her hands clean, and sweeps one set of fingers through her platinum bob.
“The conqueror is dead. Long live the conqueror.”
Mishy turns and walks up the beach toward her dressing tent, leaving Nessa for whatever clean-up crew or beachcomber who might consider her worth salvaging.
