Ultimate Fighting Celebrities: highlights by simguy
Story fragments; various match-ups/submission-finishes. All UFC style, mixed martial arts.
KIANA TOM vs. EVA MENDES
Fighting in Kiana's home gym in Oahu, Mendes had arrived to take her shot at the $100,000 Kiana Tom submission wrestling challenge - the standing invitation being open to any celebrity under 120 pounds. Hand held video-cam coverage of the challenge - a little sloppy/jerky at times, but serviceable.
Tom fought in a twist-tied sports top (pink over black) and pink boy cut shorts with black stripes on the hips. Eva battled in lilac sports halter with white collar, purple low-ride boy cut trunks. Kiki wore her hair loose and long: Eva sported a scruffy high ponytail. Both women wore white aerobics socks/runners.
Kiana controlled much of the 30 minutes of squirming, grappling action, keeping the bigger woman on the canvas - Tom using her broad shoulders and comparatively long arms to keep Eva wrapped up. The following sequence comes from the surprising final moments of the bout...
Tom's forced Eva to her back, but Asian hips are encircled in the Latina guard - Mendes' long legs wrapped to control Kiki's lower body. Mendes' left arm has a firm wrap around Kiana's head, but Tom's still aggressively applying weight - pushing with her feet on the mat, gulping her hips against Eva's stomach to drive up on Mendes in hopes of wriggling free of the restraints.
Grunting softly, Kiki works to worm her left hand in under Eva's headlock, but Mendes reads and reacts: smooth, relaxed motion pushes Kiana's left arm up and over, trapping the limb between Kiana's head and Eva's left ear. It's a critical position: Mendes now cinches up her left arm tighter around Kiana's neck, gripping her right bicep and cupping the right hand atop Tom's skull to form a snug reverse sleeper. Tom squirms: this isn't good - breath starts to come in panting little puffs as she tries to get her arm free.
Mendes pops her hips to the left - it's easy to turn Kiki over now, spilling the Asian to her back. Off camera - a smattering of applause: we can tell there are only a few people in the gym. Mendes unhooks her ankles, writhes her long legs down to molest Kiki with grapevines - Tom churning her slender stems to kick free. Eva pushes up, her face on Kiana's, Tom's trapped left arm sticking up: Kiki's face turns red, breath coming out in harsh pants now between clenched teeth. Mendes really cinching in now - little movements to keep her position on Tom, tighten her grip, get more leverage on the throat. Ball of Eva's left shoulder pressing in under Kiki's jaw - it's too tight - there's nothing Kiana can do. Seeing spots, Kiana reaches down with her right hand and taps rapidly on the mat, elliciting an eruption of hoots and applause as Mendes relaxes with a triumphant smile.
Eva sits up, grinning prettily, hands pushing against rigid Asian ribcage. Kiki lies on her right side in anguish, rubbing her throat, hair strewn across the mat and her face.
BRITTANY DANIEL vs. ALI LANDRY
Daniel in peach polo crop top (tight short sleeves, collar, bare midriff), peach boy cut trunks, UFC style MMA gloves (fingers open, knuckles covered)/ Landry in red sport tankini, black MMA gloves. Fight held on a Southern California Beach (open sand - no ring or mat) under a hot noonday sun.
Daniel had predicted her speed, stamina, skill and aggression would give Ali problems on the beach, and that's been the case. The bigger, stronger pageant beauty looks a little cumbersome, reacting to her springy-quick opponent rather than dictating.
Brittany's been outkicking Landry - pelting the brunette's curvy quads inside and out, then darting out of range - leaving Ali to stalk forward with a concerned frown. Daniel also making good use of the feint to shoot Ali's waist - tackling the brunette to the sand, frequently mounting her and pounding down as Ali rolls to her side, covers her head and absorbs beatings. Still - it's a long process - Daniel's ground-and-pound controls Ali, but shows no signs of drawing a stoppage from the bigger woman. Landry's dangerous habit of showing her back gives Daniel many opportunities to snuggle up and cinch in chokes, but Ali's been able to writhe and muscle her way out of trouble, forcing Brittany to abandon the positions and regroup on her feet.
With Ali exhausted under a murderous Southern California sun, Daniel finally gets in a decisive position...Brittany on her right side, in behind Ali - taut blonde legs encircling stout brunette waist, ankles locking up. Tough to body-squeeze a girl out from behind, but you can see Brittany's legs are rigid with the effort, looking like tanned marble carvings glistening in the sun.
Brittany snakes her arms in around Ali's head: Landry tight-lipped, red faced - the scissor's hurting her, and she's been battling persistent Daniel choke attempts all day - Landry's frustration and exhaustion clearly visible.
Job one: Brittany gets Ali's right arm up across Landry's throat, then snuggles up tight. Job two: Daniel grabs her elbows to cinch Ali up, trapping Landry's arm, squeezing tight around the head. Brittany's face: happy, smiling, her chin in the crook of Ali's neck over Landry's left shoulder. Poor Ali! She's all cinched up - strong legs useless, pushing feebly at sand - bodies glued together in the heat, rocking and wriggling as Landry tries to muscle out one last time. She can't do it - tears standing in her eyes, Ali taps rapidly with her left hand atop Brittany's quivering left thigh, bringing an exultant leer to Brittany's thin lips.
EXTREME APARTMENT: BRITTANY DANIEL vs. CARMELLA DECESARE
Carmella in sporty pink bikini, thin white hip belt accessorizing the bottom; Brittany in royal blue bikini (as in Club Dread).
Both in UFC style MMA gloves - but instead of black vinyl these are soft white rabbit-pelt punching/grappling mitts that will enable thudding, jarring type impacts, yet less likely to cut pretty faces.
Girls well familiar with each other in apartment situations, both eagerly accepting UFC mixed-martial arts stipulations in hopes of gaining some sort of decisive advantage. Brittany's generally stronger, more explosive - but Decesare ridiculously flexible and lithe, and possessed of uncanny instincts that let her slip out of trouble.
Fight wide ranging as usual - girls punching straight from the shoulder when standing up, driving each other into white walls. Not a lot of shoot take-downs as both girls are adept at legging away from grapples - but punching knockdowns are frequent and both girls quick to pounce on downed opponent.
Daniel's been enjoying longer stretches of dominance: her ground and pound slowly breaking Decesare down. Carmella grimacing as she fights off her back, reaching up to grab at Brittany's wrists as blonde mounts brunette and looks to punch down onto her face. Decesare writhing, bucking her hips just enough to destabilize Daniel, taking KO leverage off the punches - but it's very draining as Brittany well knows. Time and again, Brittany will pummel at her mounted foe's face and skull (most shots blocked, but the occasional crowd-pleaser jamming through), before being spilled to one side and the girls will scamper away to regroup.
Turning point: Brittany momentarily off balance, backs into the wall, takes a moment to steady herself; Decesare rushes in to the right of Brit - brunette palms-on-wall as she leans in close and lashes a savage, right-footed kick full across Daniel's taut brown abs. Brittany sobs out - hands up at her shoulders as she crumples forward: eyes shut tight in sudden agony. Carmella's sweaty dark locks clamped against her cheeks, strewn across her eyes - she shows her first smile of awful triumph as she feels the force of that kick, hears the spank of it echo off apartment walls.
Brittany's down, badly hurt: Carmella pounces.
Some classic apartment as Decesare leaps girly-girl into the air - arms in a little gull wing, fists cocked shoulder-height, her knees bent, pointed down at Brittany's shiny back/buttocks for a cruel drop-down impact. Daniel crying out, rolling over as Carmella scampers for position: a quick tug of unruly blonde tousle fits Brittany's head and left arm snug between Carmella's long, wiry-strong legs. Decesare grins, tongue pink between her lips as she sits up, braces herself on her left hand - slowing the fight down, asserting control.
Daniel in a bad spot: on her left side; scissored over top her right shoulder and underneath her left armpit - both girls know that trapped left arm is going to be key.
Room is quiet - the odd cough or raised voice in encouragement, but the crowd is tense, understanding the sinuous chessmatch unfolding on a little patch of carpet before them.
Daniel's defence: hugging up around Carmella's right thigh (the top, or controlling leg). Daniel's magnificent legs useless, just so much ornamentation at this point, occasionally bicycling or shifting against the carpet in search of leverage.
Decesare calm - taking a moment to push hair in behind her right ear, then with her right hand, she pulls at Brittany's gripping hug around brunette right thigh, working to pull Brit's left hand free so that arm may be drawn properly across Daniel's throat. Hand-wrestling as Brittany tries to deny Carmella; Decesare suddenly switching focus to punch rabbit-pelt mitt against Brittany's trapped and vulnerable face. Daniel's features screwing up in torment - but she grabs at Decesare's punching wrist with her left hand. Move; counter-move; torment after torment as Decesare bedevils Daniel.
First minute goes by - Carmella thoughtful, patient; Brittany under threat, but poised, awaiting any chance to reverse the situation.
Decesare twists such that both palms are on the carpet, lifting her buttocks and applying every ounce of sinewy constriction her legs can muster. Brittany twisted onto her knees, pants and groans, riding it out - suddenly shifting weight to topple both combatants onto their right sides. Decesare rolls with the motion, now lying on her back: she reaches her hands into Brittany's damp tousle, torturing the blonde with a simple classic-apartment hairpull. Daniel pulls at her tormentress' wrists - but it's awkward: blonde's right hand has to curl up and around brunette's right leg; blonde's left arm is trapped in the scissor, restricting range of motion to some degree.
More minutes pass: both girls lose track of time.
Carm sits up pretty, now using the heel of her right hand to pound against Brittany's skull: fresh angst on Daniel's face at these cruel new tactics. Harder to defend - Brittany trying to get her left hand up there to block, but basically just gritting her teeth and absorbing the ringing blows on her forehead.
There's the mistake: Carmella's able to grab that left hand/forearm of Brittany's and really secure it. Both bodies suddenly galvanized, wriggling furiously - Decesare pulling the arm across Brittany's throat while rolling to put Brittany's face into the carpet. All we see is shiny limbs and backs, bright pink and blue bikinis, and quivering, desperate writhing. Daniel's legs churn on carpet, burning her knees raw. Carmella's face so icy calm in contrast to the tension of her body: her left cheek against the carpet, her hands reaching underneath her body and between her legs, doing God-knows-what to poor Brittany. Daniel trying to roll Carmella over, but she can't - Decesare just adjusting with her thighs, buttocks straining as she shifts her grip, tightens up and DANIEL TAPS!
Brittany's right hand plaintively bats at carpet as crowd bursts into spontaneous, raucous applause. Carmella grins happily as she relaxes her body, luxuriously releasing Brittany by rolling over and drawing her long right leg up and around with pure show-womanship. Daniel sobbing, hands collected beneath her as she lies face down: hurts like hell to concede to Carmella. Hurts like hell.
EXTREME APARTMENT: KALEY CUOCO vs. MISSY PEREGRYM
Kaley in a pale blue with white floral print sport bikini top (bra style), navy nylon jogging shorts over bikini bottoms, perky ponytail. Missy in a black sports bra, red cotton jockey bottom, perky ponytail. Both girls opting for standard MMA UFC style hand gear (black). By mutual agreement, fight held in an apartment setting.
Kaley's cleaning up after catching Missy sharp right hand counterpunches - Cuoco backpedalling - allowing Peregrym to stumble to her knees at the wall.
Peregrym covers up: left side against white wall; tucking in tightly over her haunches, covering her head with both hands, keeping her elbows in.
Kaley scoots-to: setting up off Missy's rump/right flank - Cuoco riding her left hand on Missy's exposed lower back, loading up and PUMPING away right hands. Blonde ponytail tossing as Kaley slugs from her knees - right arm drawing back, then plunging in, showing off the muscular bulge of Kaley's right shoulder-head. Beefy-wet smacks of MMA mitt against firm brunette ribs/flank meat - Missy just huddling in, hunkering down, soaking it up.
Thump...thump...thump...Kaley shifts weight on her knees, takes a fistful of red bottoms in her left hand, then gets back to work. Thump...thump...thump...thump...thump...thump...Kaley shifts weight again, leaning over Missy to heartlessly elbow the girl's upperback over and over and over. Peregrym still huddling up, left hand cupped against the back of her head, right hand cupped against her right ear.
More Kaley, getting back into Missy's flank with right hands thump...thump...thump...thump...thump. Kaley shifts position: left knee braced beneath her - she straightens her right leg out to the side, foot really pushing into carpet - she's leaning her weight more on top of Missy, still keeping the left hand flat against brunette back. Now it's more of a stuffing, plugging motion - Kaley burying her right hands into Missy's flank, beating those ribs, beating the fight out of Missy. Cuoco breathing hard, lips and nose just inches away from Missy's back - close enough for Kaley to lick the salt off Peregrym's spine.
That's it - Peregrym bats pathetically at the carpet with her right hand, forehead still on the carpet, left hand still behind her head - she taps out to Kaley. Cuoco grins, both hands on Missy's back as blonde straightens up - turns her head to look prettily into the crowd, ponytail brushing her backbone all carefree. Poor Peregrym trembling as she breaks down into tears following countless unanswered punches to her body.
We've seen them box, spend long hours in the pro-style ring or La Conquista beach-court attempting to dominate one another - they've hugged and squeezed each other into stupor...it was only a matter of time before some crafty promoter put these two fireplug cuties in an octagon!
DANI FISHEL vs. ALISON MACK
Dani in sturdy navy bandeau bikini, large baby-blue polka dots, bra strap supports - MMA gloves (black); Mack in sturdy sport bikini - yellow top/green bottoms - black MMA mitts. Formal octagon setting - Las Vegas Hard Rock Casino.
Wild free-swinging brawl - girls chopping out straight martial arts punches from the shoulder, frequently shunting the other's arms to the side as fight reels into the fence.
Dani shoots for Alison's legs: Mack sprawls, riding Dani down into the canvas, then drives Fishel to her back to obtain side control. We're about a minute into the fight…
Mack lunges across Dani's chest - Alison's legs scissor up Dani's helpless left arm while Alison grabs at Dani's right arm to stretch her out cross-body. Then (parents, please remove small children from the room!) Alison shifts onto her left hip, raises her right elbow and DRIVES the smash into Dani's forehead. AGAIN! AGAIN! Dani out, head jerking under the smashing impacts, legs spasming. Dani's left hand relaxes open like flower petals in the sun, the left arm trapped and useless in Mack's sturdy legs. ANOTHER ELBOW SMASHES LEFT TEMPLE! Dani's head lolls to the right, lips parted - she's busted open at the hairline. Sight of blood stops Alison - chest heaving, lips pulled back from her teeth - her right elbow raised as if to smite Dani yet again when ref piles in to tackle Mack off her defenceless foe.
Fishel on her back, arms outstretched, body still: absolutely, decisively knocked out. Mack storming around the octagon enclosure - arms/fists rigid above her head as she bellows, adrenaline COURSING through her body at the sudden violence of the stoppage. In days to follow, Team Dani can understand the first two elbow smashes - rendering Dani unconscious: it's the brutal follow-on smashes that drive the bitterness between these two girls going forward.
ALISON MACK vs. DANI FISHEL REMATCH
Dani in navy sports bra, sturdy navy boy cut bottoms, white aerobics shoes/socks, red MMA mitts, long ponytail. Mack in yellow sports bra, sturdy green boy cut bottoms, black aerobics shoes/white socks, black MMA mitts. Formal Octagon setting at the Las Vegas Hard Rock Hotel/Casino.
Dani's got Alison pushed up against the fence. Mack doubled over, right side into the fence: Dani packed in tight, her weight on Mack's back, riding the left forearm down Mack's spine, the left hand (palm up) taking a firm fistful of Mack's waistband to hold her in place. Dani's left hip pushing in there: Mack's not going anywhere.
And Dani's pitching in right hands: thick, thumping, muscular, methodical.
Mack taking the punches in her exposed left flank - Dani beating the ribs, fitting in snug above the hip. A moistness, a heaviness to the sound - like thick, wet clay being slapped and pummelled into shape. Dani's pump-action punches bunch up the thick ball of muscle at her shoulder. Her face red with effort, teeth bared - sweat beads at the end of her nose, drops onto Mack's trembling back.
Harem girls used to beat each other this way, scrounging for dominance in the seraglios of ancient Babylon. NCAA gymnasts beat each other like this behind locked gymnasium doors, sorting out the pecking order on the team. Lions reserve this sort of ferocity for Hyenas - it's competition on the most barbaric, fundamental level.
Alison debilitated, slumping in shock - she's just deadweight against the fence, shipping hurt, when Dani goes for broke. Fishel quickly pushing off Mack to square up on blonde flank - Dani's ponytail tossing playfully side to side, Dani's left hand taking a rude grasp of Alison's shoulder strap, the right pushed into the muscle of Mack's strong left hip - and Dani DRIVES in a brutal knee to the ribs! Crowd shouts, "OH!" as one - you can see Mack jerk upon impact, then crumple, paralyzed by the crunching shot - ref tackles Dani to the side as she's loading up for another - leaving Mack to sprawl on her back, knees drawn up, arms hugging her shattered body.
Dani's turn to roar and exult - fists above her head - face mindless with brutal triumph. Poor Alison near the fence, just rocking on her back, agonized.
If this WERE a harem, Allison would be carrying Dani's slippers and preparing her baths after this. Until the bruises healed, of course.
Cori Nadine vs. Nikki Visser
Cori - silver thong bottom, no top, black MMA mitts and Visser - green tie-dyed print bikini, long blonde hair loose - black MMA mitts. Fight held in an open-air octagon (sand floor, chain link fence). Referee: Tori Wilson (wearing a neon orange bikini for those keeping track at home.)
"OK that's enough - get up Cori," Tori Wilson said, pulling Cori's arm.
She lay atop Visser, held fast in Nikki's tight clasp behind the brunette's head, Cori's left leg scissored up in both of Nikki's. Nadine punched sullenly at Visser's ribs - dull, thudding left hands, stuffed into firm Aussie torso - but Tori wasn't letting Cori work. Nadine rose to her knees, scowling at Wilson for yet another early break.
Standing, Visser had been the classier vixen all day. She stepped stiff-legged in the sand, hands open - the right near her face, the left lower, waving gently in the air like a cobra's head, ready to stab at Cori's cheekbones. Nadine's face was puffy from Visser's accurate punches, and the brunette had been forced to continually regain position inside by Wilson's constant breaks. Cori's ground and pound would have worn Visser down by now, if Wilson hadn't clearly been working against Nadine.
The girls circled, sweat beaded on intense faces - tanned bodies glossy in the sun. Sand stuck tackily to bellies, breasts and thighs.
Nadine crouched, shot in at Visser's waist: Nikki backpedaled, sidestepped to her right, stamping short, straight right hands into Nadine's skull/neck, directing Cori face-first to fence. Visser pounced as Cori turned - Nadine wrapping up tight around the blonde's waist, pulling Visser in belly to belly. Nikki worked in close, jamming her left fist in on Cori's jaw - Nadine turned her head, put her mouth on Nikki's right shoulder and squirmed to smother the work. Nikki wriggled, getting her butt back - jerked a knee up into Cori's thigh. Nadine cringed, bit back on a cry: Visser jammed a right hand into the thick muscle of Nadine's waist, cramming it in around Cori's encircling arms.
Why wasn't Tori breaking THIS up?
Cori grimaced, wriggled, tried to manage the pressure as Nikki punished her, pushing Nadine into the fence as the small crowd hooted encouragement. Nadine rode her right arm up around Visser's head, holding the damp blonde skull in close, reached the left up under Nikki's right armpit, securing the handclasp cinch at Nikki's right shoulderblade. Visser pushed in with her hips, keeping Nadine up against the fence, and started punching at the beef of the brunette's belly.
Visser methodical, shoving home the hurt over and over - wearing Nadine down to the body.
Suddenly, Nikki popped her hips, wriggling furiously to snake out of Cori's lock up - blonde reversing, pulling brunette off the fence, spinning and dropping Cori HARD to her back. Nadine's breath shot free of her body in a startled gasp, but her instincts kicked in: legs automatically encircling Visser's hips, arms reaching to embrace Nikki around her head and left arm, pulling her close. Lying atop Cori, Nikki pumped her right hand into the thick body beneath her, just punching into Nadine with thudding, robotic shoves. Where was Tori's break? Cori stared up into the sky - blonde hair in her mouth, across her eyes. She knew she wouldn't get a fair shake from Tori. She'd have to finish this some other way.
Cori shifted her weight under Nikki - hating the hot press of blonde belly atop her - working Visser into position, then suddenly TIGHTENING the loose jiujitsu guard around Nikki's hips into a rigid scissor. Nikki shouted in shock, panicked at the sudden power surge against her waist. Cori's left leg stuck straight up into the air above Nikki's glistening back, the right foot curling tight around the left ankle, the thews of Nadine's thighs hardening into vivid relief.
Visser writhed, pulling her right arm out of Cori's lock up. Tongue between her lips, Cori let Nikki sit back on her haunches, keeping that tortuous scissor in. Brunette grabbed hold of blonde wrists, holding Nikki like a helpless little girl, sitting rigidly up in Nikki's lap, staring into her stricken face.
Nikki was crying, her mouth open, lips quivering: she couldn't breath. Cori bit her lower lip, squeezing her hands around Nikki's wrists and pulsing with her legs. Nadine's stomach muscles quivered into view as she sat up into the scissor, holding the crunch position while seated atop Nikki's thighs, grinding away at proud blonde waist.
Nikki cried aloud, shutting her eyes tight. She pitched forward, trying to dislodge Cori by slamming her into the sand, but Nadine kept hold of those wrists, wriggled her hips and re-worked the scissor with a slap of her right foot around left ankle.
Visser lay atop Cori - the blonde's damp skull under the brunette's chin, Nikki's hands trapped in Cori's, held tightly in between both sets of breasts. Cori's face pinched into a tight-lipped grimace of effort: more power. More. Power.
Nikki's world-class legs stretched out uselessly in the sand - her right knee flexed up, pushing weakly into the turf. Nikki sobbed. Nikki blubbered. Nikki screamed - her mouth open against Cori's shiny brown shoulder as Visser's body tensed, shuddered, and quit. "I give!" Nikki breathed. Tori sat nearby on her haunches, twirling a finger in her hair. Either she hadn't heard it, or she hadn't cared. "I GIVE!" Nikki cried, her body reduced to deadweight by Cori's frightful leg scissor.
"OK Nadine, break." Tori sighed, her voice betraying an indifference she couldn’t, or didn’t bother to, hide.
Cori released her legs and spread them slowly, sliding Nikki off to one side. Visser cringed forehead-down in the sand, her hands still gathered at her chest, elbows in, body still numb from the effects of Cori's crushing grasp. Nadine planted her right foot, pushed up off her knee: she was stiff, she was sore - but she'd made Nikki Visser quit. Cori glared at Wilson, promising her with her eyes that she'd pay for the so-called 'refereeing' she'd done today. Then Nadine turned away, primping the dark, oily mass of her hair in the hot Southern Californian sun.
KAREN MCDOUGAL vs. PAM ANDERSON
Both women topless, proud of what they bring to the ring. Pam pink bottom, silver belly-chain, white rabbit-fur MMA gloves while Karen goes with neon blue bottoms, silver toe-ring and white rabbit-fur MMA gloves. Bout held at a private Caribbean beach attached to the Playboy-owned resort. Crashing surf nearby the only hint of solace from the broiling noon tropical heat.
Everyone knew Pam was shot; knew she’d been shot for years - but if you wanted to get over, wanted to get known - you jumped through the hoops, you went through the circus, you took the fight and enjoyed the ride. And Karen was enjoying her ride. Feeling a little guilty perhaps - but this was how the game was played; she didn't invent the rules! Playboy made Pam and she owed them. Now Pam was reduced to helping make names for others - like Karen McDougal. Besides, Heather Kozar was the Playboy Fighting Channel's head matchmaker and Heather’s word was law.
Heather said, "You're fighting Pam!" and that's all there was to it.
Now, Anderson lay on her right side, straddled by Karen in the mount position; her soft blonde hair everywhere - tangled across the white sand; gossamer strands strewn across her shoulders; pasted to her bare, heaving breasts by her own and Karen’s sweat; covering her flushed face. Pam had her left hand at her temple, covering her head - her teeth gritted tight. She sure didn't look like much now!
Karen braced herself with her left hand on Pam's raised left shoulder, punching down into Pam's head with short, drifting, straight rights. The punches were partially blocked, but Karen kept it up anyway. She knew a girl couldn't lay there behind her mitts and take the pounding all day. Pam was done - everyone knew it.
"Isn't she a little...small?" Karen had asked Heather when she was told of her opponent. She’d wanted to say "old" or "beat down" or even "broken down" - but it wasn't politically wise to denigrate Pam within earshot of Kozar or the other executives at Playboy Enterprises. Pam’s fights drove the network - everyone knew that and they were milking her for every last drop. Besides, everyone wanted to believe the myth that Pam could still be a threat.
"She's still got game," Heather had said with a straight face. "She gave Carmella all she could handle."
Karen had seen the Decesare bout and it was true, Pam had a good first round before getting her ribs kicked in! And those finishing knees! Karen repressed a shudder at the memory of what Carmella had been allowed to get away with in that fight. Karen didn't bother mentioning how much bigger she was than Carmella - Heather knew very well. There was going to be too much McDougal for Pam - and Heather knew that too!
Pam's legs fidgetted in the sand - bicycled gently. Karen pushed up on the slick ribcage beneath her; keeping her right arm punching down - she felt the shock of the impact in her shoulder, in her back; she knew Pam was stunned, just riding it out on pride alone. Somewhere in the crowd Karen could hear Carmella's distinctive, cruel laugh over the general chatty buzz.
‘Enough of this,’ Karen thought. ‘Finish her!’
Karen shifted her weight, pushing Pam onto her back, riding up onto that world-famous rack. She saw the bleary panic in Pam's face as she reached up with both hands to block. Karen took her throat in her left hand, raised up on her knees and punched down strong right hands. Pam's arms blunted some of the first impacts, but the punches began getting through - again and again - banging against her left eye and cheekbone. Pam lifted her hips in an exhausted bridge - like a zebra trapped in the jaws of a lion but still writhing - toppling Karen slightly, but not dislodging her. McDougal rode the tired blonde wave - and kept punching.
Pam turned her head to the right, eyes shut tight, tears flowing. She raised her left hand to Karen's chest, pushing up; her closed hand deforming the meat in a pathetic, ‘don't-hurt-me’ gesture. McDougal was sick of pounding Pam - amazed she didn’t tap out and disgusted Heather refused to stop it. Grabbing Pam's wrist in both hands, Karen bounced her butt on the blonde's chest, slamming her back down against the sizzling sand; then twisting Pam's arm out straight to the side. Karen's long legs scissored the limb, hyperextending the elbow against her crotch as she pushed up with her pelvis, her head tilting back, staring through squinting eyes up into the sky.
Karen hardened her heart against the sound of Pam's sobbing wail and the sudden thrashing of her legs. Then Pam was tapping out, shrieking in pain. Karen immediately released, rolled away, slapping the sand from her thighs and belly as she rose and looked back. Pam lay rocking gently on her right side; right hand clutching her left arm; lips quivering; tears streaming; softly blubbering as she writhed under the hot Jamaican sun.
Cameras moved in and Karen plastered a professional smile on her face, popping those dimples. She put her hands on her hips and strutted around Pam’s body, glaring down as though deeply satisfied by her achievement, giving the cameraman the so-called "victrix-shot." She heard champagne corks popping; glasses tinkling; laughter and excited chatter over the roar of the surf. She glanced down again at poor broken Pam - smile still in place, billboard-stiff.
As she looked down at Pam laying there hurt and humiliated - trapped by her own fame, Karen promised herself she'd get out before her career ever spiraled that low. Karen probably didn’t realize that Pam had made a similar promise to herself at one time - and look how that worked out for her!
KAREN MCDOUGAL vs. KITANA BAKER
Both buxom beauties going topless by Kozar dictate (say what you will, Heather knows her audience!) Kitanna choosing a leopard print bottom; Karen a teal thong, both with Playboy white rabbit-fur MMA mitts. Scheduled for late evening outdoors at the LA Playboy Mansion - barefeet on grass, area illuminated by Tiki torches (soft shadows, light reflecting white on the sweaty brows, noses, clavicles, cheeks of the combatants).
They've gone at it stand up for three five-minute rounds and both girls are absolutely drained, punched into stupor. Faces puffy and sore, mouths lolling open, sucking in the muggy LA night air. Girls step heavily around each other, legs shaky: first the left foot, then the right - little shuffle-steps.
Groggy girls flinch back from one another's still-tangy left jabs - long arms punching through the night at shopworn faces, connecting with dull, rabbit-fur-muffled thumps. Girls hold right hands near the chin, left hands a little lower, tracing circles in the air, chins tucked. As they step, bare breasts sway gently: a soft, feminine contrast to the brutal, hard action that's taken place.
This thing goes the time limit - neither girl has a punch left - they've beaten each other senseless. Kozar calls it from the crowd and the exhausted combatants hug perfunctorily - patting each other on the back or hip but they know it can't end like this.
Karen's ribs have been deeply bruised by Baker's savage kicks and she’s out of action a couple of months to heal up. Officially a draw, Karen is stung by the Playmate gossip that, because she had a long recouperation, Kitanna had really gotten the better of her. It's bitchy and wrong - but Heather knows how to maneuver a rematch and Karen knows she's got to definitively handle her business with Kitanna if she doesn’t want to end up like Pam Anderson.
KAREN MCDOUGAL vs. KITANNA BAKER (REMATCH)
They’re back at the LA Mansion - but this time at high noon - outdoors, in barefeet-on-grass, no ring. The entire back acerage in play. Once more, Playboy matchmaker Heather Kozar has them both topless to ensure ‘maximum exposure’ (presumably she means selling admission?) Karen in a crimson thong; Kitanna black boy-cut shorts from her Miller Lite ad. White rabbit-fur MMA mitts for both.
First round - Totally different fight from the first encounter. McDougal plays early like she's going to stand up with Baker, trading a few heavy rib kicks and stiff left jabs, but it's all merely to set up shoot takedowns. Baker not nearly as formidable on the ground - strong but not skilled - and Karen is able to control, but can't get past the Baker guard in the first round.
Second round - Karen continues to take Kitanna down and rough her up - fight spills over to the shallow outdoor portion of the grotto-pool. Karen's able to body Kitanna into the pool, then establish control from the edge: McDougal seated on the lip of the grotto, her legs scissoring up tight around Kitanna's ribs; Baker's back to Karen, vulnerable as McDougal looks for the rear naked choke.
Kitanna grimacing, teeth bared as she fends off Karen's muscular advances. Baker grabs at Karen's wrists, fighting off the chokes. McDougal patient, using her legs to tire Baker's body while molesting her up top. Occasionaly, Karen slips her left arm across Kitanna's throat - Baker desperately pulling and writhing, grabbing for Karen's right wrist to prevent a firm cinch. Kitanna's hair soaked and slick - black and shiny in the sun - tanned features taut with strain. Baker squirms to turn in on Karen, facing into McDougal's breasts - but Karen just goes to modified ground and pound then, holding Baker behind the head in the crook of the left arm, jamming little right hands in on Kitanna's ear/jaw. Baker buries her face in Karen's wet breasts, trying to avoid the punches - reaching up to Karen's shoulders to block.
Karen clasps Kitanna ‘Mauy Thai’ style behind the head, pulling her face in tight, tightening her scissors! Baker groans in the grasp as Karen's legs straighten - feet coming up out of the water. Floating nearby in the pool, blonde Playmates and Playmate wannabes lounge on air matresses or stand in water up to their hips as the crowd behind the combatants claps and shouts encouragement.
Kitanna pushes her palms against Karen's hips, teeth clenched tight against the power of McDougal's long legs; then twists again to relieve the awful pressure of the scissors; her hair streaked across her face as she shudders in Karen's grasp. Baker's movements are thick and forced - she's labouring, exhausted but McDougal's still fresh; she hasn't suffered - she's been in control, working only as hard as she's wanted to. She could go all day like this.
Left arm snakes around Kitanna's throat, drawing a fresh, woozy grimace from Baker. Karen's left hand clamps onto her firm right bicep - Karen's tongue licks at her lips as she leans forward, cupping her right hand atop Baker's damp skull. A fresh writhe from Baker - water splashes - nearby playmates shout "Woo!" "Yeah" and the like. Karen's all cinched in. Karen smiles, resting her chin atop Baker's head, tightening up the scissor, squeezing in with the arms: it's all over for poor Kitanna.
Baker struggles; reaching up and back, pulling at Karen's broad shoulders. Baker’s arms outstretched pathetically as floating Playmates taunt her and mock her movements. She wriggles and writhes, breath snorting through flared nostrils - but Karen's sinking it in good, riding with the motion. She feels her belly and breasts damp and warm against Kitanna's back, sensing Baker's distress through her skin.
That's it - frowning, starting to go out, Kitanna slaps her left hand rapidly against Karen's right shoulder - tapping out her submission with a moist, panicky slapping sound. Big smile McDougal. Now that's a decisive choke out over Kitanna Baker.
BRITNEY SPEARS vs. DANI FISHEL
Dani in navy blue crop top, scoop-front t-shirt over pink bikini, black MMA mitts; Britney in white bikini (we've all seen reference of this - Brit running around 130lbs - soft, but a beefy, good soft) and cute Prada pink MMA gloves (who knew Prada even HAD a line of female MMA stuff?) Held in an outdoor, open-air, octagon at the private Mandalay Bay pool on a typical Las Vegas noon day; bleachers but only hotel guests are allowed to enjoy the fight.
Styles make fights - Britney and Dani always put on a good show no matter what the game is: wrestling, boxing, La Conquista - whatever! Always the same thing too - Dani takes it to Britney hard as she can; Spears hangs back, rides things out, looks to capitalize on Dani's mistakes. No difference in the octagon.
We're two five minute rounds in - and Britney's already a mess; left eye closed, face puffy - Dani's been at her and on her all fight long. Spears has been on her back for the most part, keeping Dani in a secure guard (legs up around Dani's hips - sometimes scissoring up, sometimes just riding her legs loose about the waist) - but Fishel’s so strong and wriggly she's been able to put a terrible pounding on Britney regardless. Spears will lay back, tie Dani up around her head, try to tie up an arm: Fishel working hard to push her hands in under Britney's headlocks, palming into Brit's shoulders and biceps to open her up, then swiping short clubbing punches or vicious elbows to the face before Brit can grapple-up again.
Spears knows the drill - she's keeping her head in close to Dani's trying to smother it all - but Dani's the stronger girl, getting her licks in. Don't even talk to Britney about her ribs: lying atop Spears, Fishel can always shove punches into the tanned, beefy ribs beneath. Anytime she wants - and Dani tends to be pretty greedy when it comes to rib meat. She can never get enough.
Standing up, Dani just muscles Britney back up against the fence and pushes in. Spears ties up head and arm, trying to cuddle close as Fishel hugs Brit's ribs, bulling into her, then slugs her head and body while squirming belly to belly. Fishel's short arms a huge asset in this sort of thing - hard to tie her up in the first place but even so, she's able to get off when a lot of other girls couldn't find room.
During the breaks between rounds, Spears wanders around hands on hips, breathing hard through puffy lips, looking beat up and discouraged - staring at the canvas, collecting her thoughts. Dani's happy, chirping at nearby fans, squirting water into her mouth from a nozzle-bottle - rosey-cheeked and virtually untouched. Fishel's loving MMA on Britney - giving Spears more punishment than ever before, systematically wearing the pop star down.
Third round - Dani drives in on Britney's waist, tackling her to the fence. Spears ties up with a guillotine choke - tucking Dani's head under the Spears left armpit, reaching under with the right hand around Dani's outstretched left arm but can't sink it in. Dani pulls her head free, wriggles her torso to the left and draws a swiping right across Britney's drowsy face to wild applause. Exhausted - Britney turns her head, puts her cheek on Dani's left shoulder, hugging up around the ribs. Dani pulls out, butt back - trying to wriggle down and extricate her arms: she gets the left hand free, immediately tucks it into Britney's straining belly, punching a shocked gasp from her rival's lips.
Some chick in the audience with a “Dani Rocks” tee shouts excitedly: "Britney's crying!" It's not true though, not yet anyway.
Spears rides her right arm around Dani's head, holding her close - ties up Dani's right arm behind the elbow. Dani grinning in close confines, tilting her chin down to grind Britney with forehead - Spears grimacing, uncomfortable, getting bullied. Dani jerks a knee up into rounded Spears thigh, bruising the firm meat and drawing a loud grunt.
Thirty seconds go by - Dani pressing in, micro-adjusting her weight to get in digging body shots or swipes to the head - Britney managing it calmly, even as she takes methodical punishment. Little move: Spears lifts Dani's left arm, traps it between Dani's left ear and Britney's left ear. Spears quickly snuggles up tight - her left arm over Dani's right shoulder, securing the Spears right bicep; Spears' right hand cups Dani's head with a claw-full of damp dirty-blonde locks!
Suddenly, Fishel's in a pickle. She pushes into Britney, uncertain of what else to do! Spears relaxing, adjusting her head to get a tighter grip around Dani’s head and her trapped left limb. Britney's left cheek nestles in behind Dani's left shoulder: Spears breathes out through pursed lips, concentrating; plotting. Frustrated, Dani punches an awkward right hand into pudgy blonde belly and Britney winces, but she gives Dani that punch - now she has higher priorities than protecting her tummy.
Britney pops her hips, eases Dani over in a counter-clockwise turn, smooth leverage. Dani's back's to the fence now, Britney snugging her cheek in behind Fishel's left shoulder, keeping her grip tight, pressing her weight into Dani who looks confused, frowning. Dani reaches her right hand up to take her trapped left arm by the wrist, trying to straighten her arm, get it off her throat. Britney shifts her weight, drives the inside of a beefy left thigh hard into Dani's unprotected midsection. Sudden cringe from Dani - caught by surprise to the body and hurt. She brings her right arm down, rides it across her belly as Britney pushes in tight again.
Fingers of Britney's left hand grope at her own right shoulder. She chews her bottom lip, planting her left foot to push her body into Dani's - right leg slightly bent, relaxed, curling warm and moist against Dani's right thigh to help keep her corraled.
Dani pushes with her right hand against Britney's cushy lats. Fishel's face screwed up tight with discomfort, lips pursed, eyes closed tight as she frowns - DANI TAPS OUT ON BRITNEY'S BACK!
Sudden burst of applause as Britney releases Dani - Spears turns, stalking away on the verge of exhaustion herself, hands on her hips, lips parted as she stares wearily at the canvas. Poor Dani! Choked out - she slumps into fence, left hand clutching her throat, right hand dangling at her side as she slides down the fence and drops on her butt, knees at her chest, quietly blubbing. She HAD Britney - had her beaten and busted up.
Great grappling reversal pulls Britney's fat out of the fire big time and confirming her superiority - for the time being!