Pavlov and Pixie Dust: Mina Takemi vs Shimmerlace (Apex Qualifier)

[Malkavia]

Match Type: Standard Match
Rules: Victory by pinfall, submission, or knockout

When the truth is found…to be lies!

As the Jefferson Airplane tune crooned into the darkening arena, pink became the color of the moment—pink light casting a monochrome glow on the seats, pink fog pluming down the entrance ramp. But the pink Maître herself remained out of sight until the beat dropped.

Don’t you want somebody to love?

Shimmerlace rose out of the fog, threw back her head and tossed her hair back so that it whipped and cleared a space around her. Spotlight on the feychild—and now the seats got their eye-full. Bare shoulders, breasts barely cupped, legs bare.

The outfit was intricate, bordering on chaotic. White cloth wound into a streak of asymmetric purple. A long white bow added variety to the pink strands of her hair. Her boots rose white curled points around her thighs, like petals that swayed as she walked. Naked from the top of her ribs and up, except for a thin golden choker around a white ruffle of cloth, she held her hands behind her back and glided to the ring as she glanced. She smiled, bordering on a smirk, at the audience.

The Feychild’s Attire

A hop, a boot to the second rope, another push—and onto the ringpost she went. There she perched, legs crossed. She flicked her wrist, and another puff of roseate mist escaped her white glove, just long enough for a glass pipe to appear between her fingers. She took in a long drag, held in her rosy vape, then let it pour out in a gust her hands set to shaping: two long rabbit ears on a round pink circle of a misty rabbit head.

”Ladies and gentleman! Sprites and warblits. Cunts and cuntesses of the Eastern Hemisphere. Gooood evening!” Scanning from left to right, she raised her arms to the seats' echoing reply. Then she cut them off with a conductor-like twist of a closed fist. ”So. Friends of the Coterie. A question. What…do you call the psychiatrist after you’ve tweaked her tit?”

The silence hung one, two beats…

”A wee…” Shimmerlace licked her lips, grinned, leaned in. ”Therapissed.”

[SuckerPunch]

Amy Winehouse, Teach Me Tonight

Dr. Takemi's entrance hit! The arena was shrouded in green light as she stepped out onto the stage, bathed in the hue of envy. She drew in a breath, looked down, and crossed her arms under her breasts. She hugged herself and drank in the moment. Suddenly both arms exploded out and upwards in triumph as she greeted the LAW audience with the promise of a dynamic show!

The mature woman walked down the ramp with a confident but playful grin. She sashayed towards the ring dressed in her throwback wrestling attire. A green one-piece that highlighted her best assets. The leotard was painted on; it hugged the swell of her breasts and barely covered her thick backside. It was cut in the classic 80's style, an homage to her roots, with some modern embellishment. It pulled everything tight and made The Ring Therapist look every bit as sexy as she was powerful.

Once inside the ring, she'd lift her palms to the bottom of her bobbed hair, making sure it was perfectly styled. Her eyes briefly fell upon the whimsical woman on the other side of the ring, soon. But for now, she turned her attention towards her destination, her neutral corner within the ring.

She swayed over towards it and placed one foot on the bottom turnbuckle. She bent at the waist with a slow, teasing flourish before tossing another coy look over her shoulder at her playful opponent. The pose offered the crowd a full view of her curvaceous figure. From her heavy lycra-veiled breasts; To the fullness of her thick, pale thighs. And most importantly, her round, perky, perfect ass.

"Introducing her opponent! Weighing in at 169 lbs, fighting out of Hokkaido Japan! She is! The Motherweight! Mina! TAKEMI!"

Spoiler

Mina threw her hands in up to bask in her herald! The crowd erupted as the magnificent MILF put herself on display in the corner! She gave them a slow turn and a swing of her hips, just enough to make her hardly contained backside jiggle enticingly.

Dr. Takemi had long served as a veteran gatekeeper in LAW. A mid-card combatant that put hopefuls to the test! A sexy defeat or a hard-fought victory... Either way the encounter promised to give the fans exactly what they were salivating for!

"I hope that you can fight as well as you can quip, young lady." Mina stated as she looked the perched girl over. Her attire was as complicated as it was revealing. A mark of the new generation. They all wanted straps and buckles and belts, even if they weren't holding anything up. And for all of its finery, it was somehow less cloth than what Mina was wearing.

"Now, if you're done with your stand-up routine, I'd quite like to wrestle!"

[Malkavia]

As Shimmerlace delivered her canned bit of entertainment, her eyes scanned the crowd, searching. Coterie marks pocked the otherwise ordinary crowd with glaring, garish spots of pink, but there couldn’t be more than a dozen. A dozen, a hundred—it didn’t matter. What Shimmer was really looking for she didn’t find, and though few would notice, it deflated her by millimeters.

But—no time to linger! Her opponent’s entrance theme put a hand on her head, turned it on its lace-bedecked neck towards the ramp. The pitter-patter turn of the snare, the sultry drip of that crooning voice, the heart-spinning upswell of saxophone buzz—It put the crook of a half-smile on your girl’s lips. She stared from her perch and…appreciated.

Dr. Mina Takemi, in the delightful flesh. It was always the same—you Google, you read, you watch, you salivate. You think you’ve got all the goosepimples and blushing wee girl out of your system. But then the real thing, this curvaceous silhouette swaying to her jazzy world, slides between the ropes. She catches your eye. You bite your lip as your throat goes dry anticipating the clash, the slams, the moans...Ahem—

Shimmerlace shook herself and clapped her jaw tight. A flicker of magician’s fingers and the glass pipe vanished as she hopped down to the mat. The Lioness gave a curtsy. ”My quips set a standard that’ll be hard to meet, but I’ll throw it my very best, ma'am!”

DING DING!

The bell spun the match into motion. Shimmerlace paced the minor arc of a circle, eyes on her delectable opponent. Then she put a hand on her knee, met the doctor’s eyes, and leaned out, extending a hand for a shake.

”Shimmerlace, by the by, in case you didn't catch it. Let’s give these bastards a bit of comet fire they won’t soon be forgetting, ey?”

[SuckerPunch]

'Ma'am?' The thought made the edges of her lips pull up into a smirk. She processed the word for a moment, trying to decide if this Shimmerlace was calling her old, or was being respectful. With all of the showmanship she might have expected the former. But when she extended a hand for a sporting handshake, she decided it was the latter. A young up-and-comer paying respect to the women who've paved the way for them.

"It's nice to see the new generation hasn't lapsed on their ettiquette." She offered as she sank into a crouch. She acknowledged the stage magician's hand. And then attempted to take it in her own. Not to pull her in for a lariat, but in a returning gesture of sportsmanship.

"Mm. I promise. Any match with me in it will set the fans ablaze. Admittedly, two beautiful women beating and stretching each other out tends to set a rather low floor for getting them excited." Her smirk finally pulled into a full smile.

If the handshake was accepted, Mina would release the woman's grip and take a step back. Then, she'd extend both of her hands, her fingers wiggling to provoke a test of strength. "Come on then, Shimmerlace. Let's wrestle!"

[Malkavia]

Mina was a gigantic woman—or at least that was how Shimmerlace perceived her, and the feeling must have been widespread given the way she was announced. The Motherweight.

For a split second, the Pixie hesitated. She licked her lips. There was fun to be had locked up with those toned arms, struggling from toe to fingers to overcome Mina's powerful legs. Perhaps she would go flying all fairy-like over Mina’s shoulder and slam, with a cloud of glitter, fey-pancake-like, into the mat. It’d be a Hell of a ride and probably earn a laugh or three.

But those watching the road to Angelina and Thistlebro had a low tolerance for jokes.

The feychild’s half-second pause passed, her eyes slid from Mina’s hands to her face, and she stepped up. Palm pressed to palm. Shimmerlace would heave, go red in the face, push her back diagonal, tremble at her thighs. ”HRAAAARGH—”

—all just long enough to set the bait. Then she’d take whatever weight Mina swung her way, collapse, and aim to toss her momentum around and to the ropes!

[SuckerPunch]

The test of strength was a wrestling tradition. A preliminary show for the fans to get a read on who had the raw muscle advantage. But for Mina Takemi it was more than that. It was a mind game!

This 'test' relied on her single greatest asset. She used the unassuming tradition to implant the seeds of dominance in her foes. Mina had never met a middleweight with the strength to overpower her. And even amongst heavyweights, there were few that could match her. A lifetime of training had built the former pro wrestling coach a surprising wellspring of power! Age had stolen some of the smooth, lithe edges of her body and thickened them... But it was still being driven by the same engine!

"SORRRYAA!" The two wrestlers met in the middle of the ring, palm to palm! And Mina was eager to feel the touch of the other woman's hands in her own! Too eager, perhaps. As the mischievous fairy redirected her attempts to overwhelm her into a whip towards the opposing corner!

Shimmerlace slipped her hands free and Mina staggered past! She nearly fell but managed to refind her balance. However, it was too late to keep her from blundering tits first into the top turnbuckle! "OOF!"

[SuckerPunch]

The test of strength was a wrestling tradition. A preliminary show for the fans to get a read on who had the raw muscle advantage. But for Mina Takemi it was more than that. It was a mind game!

This 'test' relied on her single greatest asset. She used the unassuming tradition to implant the seeds of dominance in her foes. Mina had never met a middleweight with the strength to overpower her. And even amongst heavyweights, there were few that could match her. A lifetime of training had built the former pro wrestling coach a surprising wellspring of power! Age had stolen some of the smooth, lithe edges of her body and thickened them... But it was still being driven by the same engine!

"SORRRYAA!" The two wrestlers met in the middle of the ring, palm to palm! And Mina was eager to feel the touch of the other woman's hands in her own! Too eager, perhaps. As the mischievous fairy redirected her attempts to overwhelm her into a whip towards the opposing corner!

Shimmerlace slipped her hands free and Mina staggered past! She nearly fell but managed to refind her balance. However, it was too late to keep her from blundering tits first into the top turnbuckle! "OOF!"

[Malkavia]

Green eyes locked on Shimmer’s as the two drew close, close enough Shimmerlace could feel the heat from her body across her face. The metaphor only occurred to Shimmer halfway through the move — matador. Her legs bent, shoulders twisted, hands whipped. A plan in the mind made full contact with reality as the bull went roaring past, putting an ear to ear grin on the Pixie.

Three, four, five—she hopped backwards away from the ringpost. By the time Mina popped her OOF, the Pixie had her hand on her knee six paces back. Keep moving, cunt. Thought arced over instinct. Keeping smart while keeping quick set a girl’s brain on fire. Shimmerlace pumped her legs, swung her arms, and charged.

Charge was a tried and shit tactic for the Seelie Maître. They’d hear her stomping, pivot, and she’d eat a fine helping of back-hand slap or heel-o’-the-boot. But. Sometimes speed’s enough to duck through a crack in the reaction time, and—well. Mina had a lot of body to swing around from that post.

At the last leg of the race, Shimmer’d pivot on her heal, twist her momentum like a roseate whirligig, and thrust her rump into a cheeky, if telegraphed charging hip check aimed at the Motherweight’s tailbone—a butt-to-butt press!

[SuckerPunch]

Mina noted how spry and wilely her foe was through the dull ache in her breasts. She'd not make that mistake again.

However, she was still suffering from the original offense. She was disoriented. Her whimsical opponent had put her off-balance and sent her crashing into the top turnbuckle. The flattening of her breasts had forced the air out of her lungs and set her ears to ringing.

Her boots fell precariously as she plodded backward from the residual momentum from her misdirect. She heard the other girls boots heavy behind her. She was following up!

It would have been simple to turn and catch her. To crack her with a lariat or slip her and send HER into the corner. It would have been so easy. In her younger days.

But those days had passed. Her agility had been replaced with strength and her reflexes with knowledge. A fair trade. But the other way around would have favored her more in this instance!

"Ngh!" Shimmer's backside hit hers! The blow caused her backside to be thrown forward! Whiplashing her! And sending her straight toward the canvas!

She managed to bend her knees, to drop to them rather than her belly! But the turnbuckle still loomed large! She barely managed to get her hands in front of her before her pretty face crashed into the pad with a *WHUMP*!

And there she was left. Collapsed against the corner, head in hands as she moaned in pain.

[Malkavia]

The match started off well. It might not end well.

Panic had hit Shimmerlace three quarters through the charge. The idiocy of the move smacked her about the jaw. She imagined Mina's pivot, how she'd grab Shimmer, or slide underneath her—break her. She could fucking see the KERSPLAT!! Then, with the gut-glimmering delight of surprise, the feychild’s posterior smushed her opponent's and sent her sprawling.

—Right. So what next? The butt-bop into the turnbuckle earned a smattering of applause that barely registered. Move! It was a repeating nugget from Eleanor: Move, because if you come in crooked (and move) and hit fast (move move move) and mentally tangle an opponent (fucking move) then they’re more likely to hand you mistakes. Fuck if that mode didn’t raise a girl’s blood pressure though. She was galloping across the ring, away from Mina while her brain hopped a foot behind. And of course, keep the knowing grin mile-wide!

Shimmerlace hit the ropes, which cradled her back and bent with her weight like a slingshot. Now she was facing the Motherweight—or her backside, anyway. Even with the sweat gleaming and the face cracking, Shimmerlace had to admire her target, knees on the ground with a soft crook between knees and thighs just short of perpendicular. It was a vulnerable pose, appealing in its loose smallness. Bait for a fairy thinking too fast as she launched from the ropes.

—halfway across the mat, she still didn’t have a plan, which left a guilty ember in her chest. One look at Mina hammered an obvious idea. Dive. Drive a boot into the all-too available ass. But…too obvious. We fly crooked, remember? So she’d jump on the first rope, arc over Mina, and trampoline-dive both boots onto those thick and plush hips!

It was only after Shimmerlace had hit the first rope that she realized just how much time this redirection would add to what was already a slow followup—a dangerous few seconds for a sprite in swatting-range of a cunning giant.