A Southern Welcome: Eva Quetzali vs Maybelle Tendersweet (Double Debut)

[KetZal]

"Ay no..."

Eva was left seeing stars for a bit after that impressive bronco buster. But she's also come to learn that waiting and letting one rest isn't Maybelle's style either. Something that was further confirmed with the cowgirl's payback, burying Eva in a slow and humiliating stinkface. It woke her up sure! But all Eva could do was flail weakly and paw at Maybelle's hips, barely even slap against her thick thighs.

Once Maybelle had enough and got off of Eva, the latina gasped for air and rolled herself off onto the apron, and let herself fall onto her hands and knees outside the ring. Anything to just get a little breather and hopefully a new strategy.

[SweetHeart]

Eva’s voice was barely a whisper, muffled and lost against the thick wall of Maybelle’s freckled ass. Her limbs twitched, boots scuffing the mat as she weakly flailed, her fingers pawing against the cowgirl’s wide hips, trying to push her off—but it was like fighting a landslide with a feather. Maybelle wasn’t budging. Not yet. With a devilish grin and a playful twinkle in her eye, the big cowgirl leaned in even deeper, rolling her hips in slow, grinding circles as she continued to scrub Eva’s helpless face around in her rear like she was buffing out a spot on a prized saddle.

“C’mon now, sugar, you were a lot feistier earlier~” Maybelle teased over her shoulder, punctuating her taunt with another indulgent bounce. “What’s the matter? That fight of yours done galloped off already?” The crowd roared with approval, and Maybelle played right to them, soaking in their cheers as she raised her arms, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow. With an exaggerated flourish, she reached down to the edge of her top and began mockingly fanning herself. “Whew! goodness sakes, y’all—it’s gettin’ hotter than a bull’s backside in branding season out here!” she drawled, her voice high and playful as she swished her hand at her neck. “Either that, or lil’ Eva’s just workin’ up a mighty fine seat warmer for me!”

With one final grind that had poor Eva’s legs trembling, Maybelle finally rose. She gave her hips a little shimmy before strolling away from the corner, her freckled backside shimmered with sweat. Eva, meanwhile, rolled herself under the bottom rope, landing on the apron before letting gravity take her the rest of the way—plop—onto the arena floor. There, she barely managed to get onto her hands and knees, her eyes fluttering and distant as she struggled just to breathe.

Maybelle caught sight of her slipping out and strolled to the ropes, casually leaning against them with a mock-solemn pout.

“Aww… and here I thought we were just gettin’ to the good part,” she said sweetly, jumping onto the apron, watching the girl crawl on the outside. She squared up, gave her thighs a confident smack.

“Let’s see if ya bounce as good as you run~!”

And with that, she gave a little Whistle~, as she ran across the apron, leapt high, tucking herself into a tight ball midair, looking to hit a cannonball senton onto Eva, flattening her against the floor with an impact that made the front row recoil. “She’s flatter than a flapjack now, folks!” she declared proudly, giving her freckled rear a playful smack. “And I ain’t done cookin’ yet!”

[KetZal]

After being given a taste of her own medicine, with the cowgirl smothering her entirely with her buns, Eva was running on fumes. She rolled out of the ring and crawled away to just get a break. Just a little breather so she could turn this around. Her short hair hiding her face from the crowd as she was completely out of it right now, reaching for the barricade to use as support. And then...

THUD!

A sickening sound as the latina was flattened against the outside of the ring. Maybelle may not be done yet. But by the looks of it, with how Eva wasn't moving beneath her larger opponent, some people in the crowd were worried that maybe she was.

[SweetHeart]

Eva’s body crushed flat beneath the weight of the cannonball senton, pancaked against the arena floor with no room to breathe. Camera flashes lit up across the arena, catching the image of Maybelle sitting beside her downed opponent. The cowgirl slowly rose, brushing strands of hair from her face as she looked down at the limp form beneath her. “Aww, shoot...” Maybelle muttered, placing a hand on her hip and pouting exaggeratedly. “I think I might’ve actually broke'er.”

She crouched down beside Eva and gently lifted her up by the arms, cradling the smaller woman like she might a tired child. With a mock-gentle hand, she brushed back Eva’s damp, short hair from her face, revealing glassy eyes and a blank, dazed stare. “There ya are,” she cooed sweetly, tilting her head with mock sympathy. “Still with us, sugar? D'aaaw Bless your lil’ heart.” Then, just as quickly, her tone shifted. “Back in ya go!” With a grunt and a sharp twist of her hips, Maybelle tossed Eva up and under the bottom rope, sending the Latina rolling bonelessly into the ring like a sack of flour. Maybelle turned to the fans with a sunny grin, giving them a playful two-fingered cowgirl wave. “Don’t y’all worry—I’ll tuck her in real nice.”

She grabbed the bottom rope and pulled herself up onto the apron with ease, her boots landing with a confident thump. With a casual swing of her leg, she stepped through the ropes and strode across the ring, her eyes never leaving the heap of Eva laid out before her. Grabbing a fistful of Eva’s gear and underarm, Maybelle hauled her up to her feet—not unkindly, but without much care either. Eva sagged in her grip, barely able to stand.

“C’mon now, up ya go. We’re headed up to the high country.” She said as she looked to pick her up and put her on the top rope!

[KetZal]

Eva must have been out of it for five... six seconds tops. She started waking up when Maybelle rolled her back in the ring. After that it was just a slow and painful journey to lucidity.

Lights flickered in and out, sounds were muffled and sometimes inaudible. She barely even registered how the cowgirl bunched up her gear when she hauled her up. Eva was struggling to even remember where she was.

She was sagged and sat on the top rope. By that point, she was lucid enough to know that she was in a very bad spot... Her body was screaming to just stop and give up. But there was that nagging voice in her head telling her to keep going.

Just play possum a bit more and hope that when the time comes, you'll have enough strength to do something.

[SweetHeart]

Maybelle turned her back to Eva just long enough to toss her head back and soak in the crowd, arms stretched wide like she’d just wrangled a wild mustang. Then she turned on her heel, sauntering up to the corner, doing a playful twirl of her wrist in the air, mimicking a lasso with her fingers as she climbed the ropes, one thick boot after the other planting down with full confidence, now standing tall on the second rope as she slung her imaginary rope with flair. “Time to take this filly for a little ride through the sky!”

The crowd roared in response, already anticipating something big.

Maybelle planted a boot beside Eva’s thigh and reached down, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman’s waist, pulling her in tight for what looked like a superplex. Her breath was hot against Eva’s cheek, her freckled face flushed with sweat and anticipation.

[KetZal]

The crowd was divided, with MANY clamoring and cheering for Maybelle to put an end to the luchadora. The rest, not as many, were crying out for their underdog to wake up again. Whatever the case, it looked like both sides were roaring for both girls, and this next move could be the final nail in the coffin.

Eva though, she looked dead in the water. Her small frame was slack, barely putting up any resistance as Maybelle set her up for a superplex off the top rope.

But then, soon after planting her boot on the top rope, Maybelle's expression changed. The confidence and bravado was switched out for pain and shock as her body jerked back. Then it jerked back again... and again! Until she finally stepped down to the middle ropes and let go.

The crowd was DEAFENING as Eva Quetzali looked alive again! Worse for wear but she was up and running, countering that superplex with a few well placed strikes to the cowgirl's midsection. With ragged breaths, Eva looked out to the crowd, hearing them chant her name. She had to finish this, for them, and for herself if she wanted to win.

Looking back to her opponent, Eva wrapped a tired arm around her shoulder and the back of her neck, and pulled her in for a knee strike to double her over while still on the ropes. What was she- she's lifting her. Eva Quetzali is summoning whatever strength she has left to lift Maybelle up for a powerbomb!!

"Alright Maybelle, time to put the cow out to pasture."

If Maybelle did nothing, Eva would let gravity do the work for both of them, and fell down from the ropes, crashing on the mat with Maybelle coming down with her.

[SweetHeart]

This was not how it was supposed to go. Maybelle had pictured this moment so many times before her debut. The lights shining down, the crowd on their feet, and her—standing tall, sweaty and smiling—after driving her opponent into the ground with a rootin’ tootin’ Southern smackdown. She’d wave her hat, wink for the cameras, and strut out of the ring like the star she was born to be.

But this? This wasn’t in the daydream.

Dangling on the top rope, eyes wide, legs kicking as a girl half her size tried to muscle her up for a powerbomb? Maybelle’s mouth fell open, disbelief flashing across her freckled face. “Whoa now, sugar—let’s not do anything rash—!”

Too late.

BOOM!

The ring exploded with sound as Eva Quetzali brought her crashing down from the top, all that southern heft driven spine-first into the mat with a desperate, hell-or-high-water powerbomb. Maybelle’s body bounced off the canvas, her limbs sprawling out like a starfish before she collapsed, motionless but for a twitch in one boot. For a second, everything blurred. The lights overhead were too bright. The sound of the crowd was a dull roar in her ringing ears. Her lungs seized, gasping for breath. Her mouth hung open in a stunned little O. “Uuuuuhhh… damn...” she wheezed, her drawl limp and ragged as she rolled onto her side, one hand instinctively grabbing her lower back. Her flushed face was slick with sweat, red as a Georgia sunset—not from exertion, but from sheer, soul-shriveling embarrassment.

With a groan, she curled in on herself, thick thighs trembling, body throbbing from the shock. One leg kicked in protest, like a calf just realizing it got branded. The crowd was electric, chanting Eva’s name like thunder through a canyon.

Maybelle wasn’t out—but right now, she was damn sure down.

[KetZal]

Meanwhile Eva wasn't faring any better. She was on her way to crawl on top of the big girl for the pin, and then she turned on her side! She groaned in frustration as she crawled for the ropes beside her and just lay there beneath them for a moment.

Her mind was racing between a few thoughts as she lifted an arm to cover her eyes. She almost had it, she broke out of the beatdown finally and was sure that this was going to be enough. She really wanted it to be enough... but the bull was still kicking. The only things keeping her going now were the cheers from the crowd, and a newfound respect for Maybelle.

Her muscles were still sore, but they weren't screaming at her like they were a few moments ago. She grabbed the ropes above her and climbed to her feet on the apron. From there, she watched Maybelle. Was she going to unfurl, or get back up? "Hey!" She called out to her larger opponent. "Get back up Maybelle. Aun no terminamos! And the people want more!"

[SweetHeart]

Maybelle lay there, her chest rising and falling in heavy, wheezing breaths as she blinked up at the lights. Everything ached. Her back. Her neck. Even her damn pride. But through the haze of pain, she could still hear the crowd. Loud. Hungry. Chanting for more. And above it all, that voice.

"Hey! Get back up, Maybelle. Aún no terminamos! And the people want more!"

Maybelle groaned, rolling to her side. That voice, feisty and defiant, rattled around in her skull. Eva Quetzali—this little firecracker of a luchadora—was calling her out? Still standing? Still swinging? Damn right she was. With a grimace, Maybelle planted her hand on the mat and pushed herself up, slow and shaky like a tree swaying in the wind. Her legs wobbled beneath her as she rose to one knee, then to both feet. Her head hung low, curls drooping, shoulders heaving. She looked like she’d been trampled by a herd of cattle—and honestly, it felt about the same.

But she stood. Then she looked up. And what she saw made her eyes widen just a little. Eva was on the apron, gripping the top rope, legs bent low in a crouch. Her small frame was coiled like a spring, eyes locked on Maybelle, teeth bared in determination. The crowd saw it too, and they exploded—a tidal wave of anticipation as they realized what was coming.