No Holds Barred
On that day, there'd been no fuckin' fancy-ass entrance—no soaring in upon any airy wings of fey delight, nor skipping around through intricately timed POOFs of pink. Just a straight, fast march down the aisle and a hop into the corner. Jittery-quick.
Sure—Shimbo here had every motivation to leap for the gleaming eyes of the many in her audience who had, of late, turned to her the cold shoulder, to reach out with every while and sweet smile in her teeming arsenal?
But today?
TODAY?
Today they were putting her in a NO. HOLDS. BARRED. HENTAI match. Shimmerlace had dream of such stipulations since she was but a tiny sprite. A small pixie growing on the branch like a still-folded flower, dreaming such dreams as the heady young allow into their horn-bedraggled minds.
And now she was in the ring. Pacing in her corner, strapped in her hip-high thigh-high, lacy panties, and tit-crushing brassiere. Grinning and bouncing and chewing her nail because HER OPPONENT WOULD ENTER SOON and Shimmerlace knew damn well what her strategy would be tonight.
Spoiler
GOD.
But she'd waited over twenty long years for this match. And yet the last seconds were unbearable.
Finally she threw up her head towards the skylights, God, the audience, and everyone, and hollered "WELL SEND IN THE FUCKIN' OPPOSITION ALREADY!"