Natalie Dormer vs. Michelle Trachtenberg by Jackflash

A Saturday night party at the Bel Air home of a wealthy businessman... Despite the apparent gaiety of the affair, there was an unmistakable air of disappointment hanging over the evening. The night’s entertainment was to be a match between Michelle Trachtenberg and Mischa Barton but, unfortunately, a case of food poisoning contracted at breakfast that day had forced Barton to cancel at the last minute and no alternative was available.

Michelle was particularly disappointed. She and Mischa were friendly acquaintances, there would have been none of the angry hostility so often found in such matches, and she was looking forward to the challenge. Having mentally and physically geared herself up for battle, it was difficult to simply “shut herself down” so the brunette circulated through the party, engaging in small talk while enjoying sparkling juice and hors d'oeuvres although the nervous energy she’d built for the fight made it difficult to stand still in one spot for long.

As the evening wore on, Michelle began to take note of particular attention being paid to her. A blond close to Michelle’s age, height and build was watching her intently with icy blue feline eyes. She wore a snobbish pout that just begged to be slapped off of her face, the brunette mused.

Inquiring from a friend as to the identity of her new fan was, she was told, “Natalie Dormer...she’s British.”

Michelle vaguely knew the name, recalling that she was a newcomer who was getting a lot of favorable attention for her first movie, “Casanova.” Her friend confirmed that, and added that Natalie was in California to sign a new three picture deal with Touchstone. That got Michelle’s attention; she’d been trying to interest the studio into giving her just such a package deal with no success. Now, Little Miss UK waltzes in and lands the deal with just one film role? Her interest piqued, Michelle decided to introduce herself...and maybe get to the bottom of why the blond had been glaring daggers into her. As she approached, the brunette took stock of the Englishwoman.

Natalie had good taste judging by the elegant gown she was wearing for the evening - which, like Michelle’s, featured a plunging neckline that flattered her. On her left wrist was a stunning diamond and platinum bracelet, while on her right was no doubt the source of those precious metals, a middle aged gentleman whom Michelle knew to be a “connoisseur” of young talent who liked to try and open doors for them. Natalie, it seems, is his latest project. Insofar as the brunette knew, it was strictly business. Having made a fortune in real estate, he made a hobby of trying to mold new Hollywood starlets. But while it was understood that sexual favors were not on his agenda, his head could clearly be turned by flattery from his protégé. From the looks of things, Natalie had him wrapped quite tightly around her little finger.

Putting on her friendliest face, the brunette stepped up to Natalie and chirped, “Hi! I’m Michelle, and I just want to congratulate you for ‘Casanova’. Sounds like you’ve got a real future in Hollywood.”

Completely ignoring the greeting, the blond looked to her patron and said, "Poppy, I want her!” Michelle didn’t know what annoyed her most: the snub, the blonde’s pet name for her benefactor, or the spoiled whine in her voice. Rather proud of herself, Michelle managed to stifle an overpowering urge to roll her eyes and snicker.

It took a few more moments before the brunette absorbed what Natalie had in fact said. “Um, excuse me?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t mind Natty there,” Poppy said. “But you see, Ms. Trachtenberg, she’s really rather eager to get into catfighting here...she was quite successful in London, you know...and unless I miss my guess, she’s interested in a match with you sometime.”

“Oh, I see,” the brunette replied. “Well, I suppose we could see…sometime...”

But before she could continue, Natalie returned her icy gaze to Michelle and hissed, “Not ‘sometime’... NOW!

This time, Michelle did not stifle the chuckle that rose from her throat, following it with, “Well, I really don’t think we can just start a match on the spot. I mean, yeah, I was supposed to fight tonight, but still....”

“I don’t think our fellow guests would mind it, do YOU?” asked Poppy. “We were all more than a little disappointed to hear you and Ms. Barton wouldn’t be engaging one another tonight. I rather think a substitute match would go over quite well.”

No wonder this guy made a fortune, Michelle thought to herself; he could sell the Brooklyn Bridge...back to Brooklyn!

By now, the conversation had been picked up by other partygoers, and a buzz about the impending confrontation was rushing through the crowd like an electric current. “Well,” the brunette said. “No harm in asking, I suppose. But...when Mischa canceled, I didn’t bring anything to wear to fight in. And I just bought this dress, and I’d hate to ruin it.”

“I’ll tell you what, Michelle,” another guest nearby piped in with. “I’ll spring for your brand new gown. How’s Dior?”

“Delightfully delicious!” Michelle responded with playful alliteration. Within seconds, word of the impromptu combat spread through the assembled guests, and they obediently moved to the walls, giving the two beauties ample room to battle. The girls stepped out of their heels and walked toward the center of the room, but Michelle still seemed preoccupied. Then, her eyes lit up and she said, “Wait, I’ll bet they have spare bathing suits for guests in the cabana. We can ask for a pair....”

As she turned to look for the host to make her request for alternate attire, the brunette turned her attention from her opponent...with devastating results. With a cobra’s speed and a panther grace, Natalie’s left leg shot up, the ball of her foot cuffing Michelle hard on the side of her jaw, snapping her head violently and sending her stumbling.

Shaking her head, Michelle groaned, “Wait...I wasn’t ready....” But her plea was punctuated with another kick from Natalie, this time the heel of her foot smashing squarely between the brunette’s eyes, knocking her with a thud onto her butt.

“Get ready,” the blond hissed unsympathetically.

Moaning, Michelle tries to get up, but her adversary decides to help her instead. Grabbing the brunette by the wrist and arm, Natalie yanks her back up to her feet...then promptly Judo flips Michelle. With a shriek, Michelle flips through the air like a ragdoll, then crashes hard to the carpet. Two handfuls of chestnut brown hair is all Natalie needs to haul her dazed foe upright. Again grabbing Michelle by the arm, the blond seems poised to repeat her toss; instead, she suddenly whips Michelle forward, causing her to slam bodily into the wall! Face and chest leaving small cracks and dents in the plaster, the brunette staggers backward, slackjawed and eyes rolling in her head.

Then Michelle stops wobbling back and merely stands in place on unsteady legs, her gaze behind heavy lids vacant and scarcely comprehending. Hands on her hips and with the stare of a hungry predator, Natalie stalks in a circle around her prey. Then, smirk affixed firmly upon her beatific face, she grabs the front of Michelle’s red gown and tears it away, then claws at the skirt, quickly leaving the brunette, pert breasts bare and heaving, in little more than tatters. Through the fog that clouds her brain, Michelle’s battle instincts begin to penetrate. Acting on impulse, the brunette draws back her right fist and throws a sloppy punch at her opponent...which Natalie effortlessly sidesteps. Michelle’s own momentum almost causes her to topple over to the floor, but she manages to right herself, although she teeters awkwardly.

Deciding it is time to go in for the kill, Natalie unleashes her own special finishing move, the one which earned her the nickname “Nastily” in the UK catfighting clique. Bending Michelle over backward at the waist, the blond wraps her right arm around her foe’s neck in a Reverse Headlock. Then with her left hand, she grabs Michelle’s blue thong, yanking it upward in a vicious Front Wedgie. As the fabric disappears within a thatch of curly brown, the blistering pain to her womanhood snaps Michelle out of her stupor with a yowl.

Satisfied that her victim is lucidly aware enough now of her straits (which always sparks a touch of panic in them which the blond finds splendid), Natalie unleashes the coup de grâce...a DDT! Using a handful of panties, Natalie hoists her squealing foe up into the air even as Natalie drops to a sitting position. The crown of Michelle’s head, with the weight of both women behind the impact, slams into the floor with an ugly thud. The brunette’s body instantly goes limp, and there is no question that she has been rendered utterly unconscious.

Planting her foot atop her beaten rival’s chest, Natalie motions for a glass of champagne, which is quickly proffered. The onlookers have been shocked into silence over the Brit’s utter domination of their darling warrior. Natalie's left breast has slipped free of the faint confines of her gown, and the visual serves to reinforce the newfound vision of her as a modern day Amazon!

Taking a sip from her glass and glancing about the room, her eyes pause as they find one particular guest...the gentleman who offered to replace Michelle’s damaged dress with a new one. Arching an eyebrow, Natalie purrs with a regal air, “You may send the gown to me.” With her verbal declaration of commanding the victor go the spoils...the room erupts with cheers. Although they may lament Michelle’s defeat, the crowd is in awe of this new phenomenon!