L.A.W. - League of Anime Wrestling

SMOTHER MATCH FOR THE SMOTHER GODDESS BELT
Win via knockout with a smothering maneuver. Winner becomes the Smother Goddess.

Louise was the kind of arrogant woman who never backed down from a challenge. After all, she considered herself the best and believed that in any type of match, against any type of opponent, she would emerge victorious. And this leads to tonight's match, a match that LAW management forced Louise to participate in because so many people were clamoring for it—a match for her Smother Goddess title!

Louise (with the Smother Goddess belt)

Theme

https://youtu.be/FPmqfaS1fT0

The Frenchwoman then took to the stage, proudly displaying her belt across her hips, proving to everyone that she was the best Smother Goddess in the league. Naturally, her theme song and her walk to the ring were met with boos from the crowd, who didn't appreciate the self-proclaimed Goddess, but Louise remained silent and smiling. After all, she was expecting a big night.

As she climbed into the ring and stood on the turnbuckle without even acknowledging her fans and the spectators, the Wildcat's gaze shifted to the ramp where her opponent was due to appear. For the first time, she wanted to know who her opponent was. If people wanted this match and had convinced management to make it happen, it meant her opponent must be a LAW icon... or a super-influential wrestler! Louise imagined herself trampling her next opponent to gain notoriety.

Okay, seriously? A "Smother Goddess" belt?

Dinah adjusted the top of her gear in the mirror, making sure everything was hoisted and secure. Her "Risk It" Patreon tier was usually full of fun, chaotic little challenges - eat a ghost pepper, do a lyrical prank call, wear a ridiculous cosplay to the gym. But this? This was the result of the internet taking her intentional tease for a smother segment of that match with Clyde and turning it up to a hundred. They had pooled an obscene amount of money for charity to make this happen, and Dinah Barbeau wasn’t about to let the children - or her bank account - down. Even if she were facing the consequences of her own actions.

She turned to the side, checking her silhouette. She looked good. Great, even. She wore a tight crimson crop top with a daring diamond cutout that highlighted her cleavage, layered under a cropped black leather jacket adorned with silver studs that caught the light. Below the waist, she sported a black pleated micro-skirt that flared out just enough to tease the matching red trunks beneath, paired with thigh-high black stockings that squeezed her legs in all the right places. It was a look designed to draw the eye down to her thighs - the very weapons she planned to use to win this ridiculous title.

But she’d seen the photos of Louise "The Wildcat." That woman was built like a brick house with a luxury annex. Dinah looked down at her own chest, then at her hips. She was fit, she was curvy in the right places, and her thighs could crush a watermelon if she focused, but she wasn’t a heavy-duty piece of machinery like the Frenchwoman.

Whatever. It wasn't about size.

The cue hit. Her music blasted through the arena speakers.

The second the curtain parted, the nerves vanished, replaced by the automated, high-wattage charisma of a pop idol. She spun, she pointed to the camera, and she smoothly and alluringly belted out her own song, treating the ramp like a runway with an occasional pause to brush up against a few fans and slap hands with them.

After the chorus, she slid into the ring, popping up to her feet instantly to wave at the cheering crowd. They ate it up.

Then, she turned around, and Louise's figure ate her up.

Photos didn’t do it justice. Louise was... substantial. Standing in the opposite corner, the Frenchwoman looked like she could smother a small village, let alone a pop star. The belt looked almost like a toy resting on those hips. Dinah felt a very real, very sharp spike of jealousy lodge itself in her throat. If she ended up on the bottom of this equation...

But Dinah Barbeau didn’t do fear. Not where cameras could see it.

She sauntered to the center of the ring, dropping into a hip-cocked pose that screamed unearned confidence. She looked Louise up and down, lowering her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose to peer over them, before speaking loud enough for the ringside mics to catch.

“Cute belt, Wildcat,” Dinah chirped, flashing a bright, dangerous grin. “But my fans paid a lot of money to see me wear it. And honestly? I think gold is way more my color.”

Spoiler

Unlike Louise, the crowd adored the blonde and were already captivated by Roulette's charm. While everyone clapped along to the blonde's theme song, Louise glanced at her opponent out of the corner of her eye before rolling her eyes, surrendering and waiting for Dinah to join her in the ring... And she didn't have to wait long.

The blonde didn't seem impressed, and Louise... didn't know this blonde! The Frenchwoman raised a doubtful eyebrow, looking her opponent up and down... People really wanted to see this stranger wear a belt... HER belt?!

"Hmph."

Louise stepped towards the blonde with a determined stride, her arms following her curves as she leaned slightly forward to crush Roulette's chest with her enormous pair, shoving the blonde aside with a quick but simple torso thrust.

"That's what I thought, you're not just some random girl, but your chest doesn't even compare to mine! I wonder why so many people want to see you kiss my magnificent breasts... Maybe you're some kind of masochist? In any case, you'll never touch my belt!"

The Wildcat then turned to the referee, turning her back on her opponent, and forcibly handed him the Smother Goddess belt so the match could begin quickly.

Oh, Jesus. Of course.

Of course a woman built like that led with the assets. Dinah felt the soft, heavy pressure of the Frenchwoman's chest crushing against her own, and her hackles rose immediately. She wasn't exactly small in that department, but Louise brought artillery. A lot of... artillery. Dinah could feel it all, and with her sense for camera angles and ensuring that they captured her "good side," she could practically feel the camera lenses zooming in, capturing the way their cleavage mashed together in 4K resolution.

Dinah fought to keep her gaze locked on Louise’s eyes, willing the heat rising in her neck to stay below the collar, but she felt the tell-tale prickle of a flush threatening to ruin her cool-girl facade. This marked exactly why she hesitated when the fans demanded this match. She had the tools to win, sure, but the margin for error against a literal "Smother Goddess" felt terrifyingly slim. Everything had gone so right for her career lately that the fear of getting knocked off her pedestal - or simply suffocated underneath it - gnawed at her. The detracting voices, including those in her on camp, would grow louder.

Fortunately, Louise opened her mouth and voiced those very insecurities aloud. That annoyance proved useful. It burned off the embarrassment and replaced it with a sharp, defiant need to bite back. Dinah subtly folded her arms just under her bust, a calculated move to hoist her own chest up and make the visual comparison a little less one-sided.

At the comment about kissing her breasts, however, the dam broke. The red hit her cheeks hard.

“Is that so?” she shot back, perhaps a little too suddenly to sound tough. She reached out, placing one manicured red fingernail firmly on the gold plate of the title belt just before Louise shoved it at the referee. “Careful thinking that. I could have a photoshoot with Vogue lined up for it next week. Maybe wearing only the belt. That'll mean I'm touching it plenty." She preened a bit at the thought. That would look good, wouldn't it? "I’m no masochist, and I’ve got plenty here to smother you out with.”

As the referee accepted the belt and began the official introductions - Champion vs. Challenger - Dinah stepped back to create space. She put her hands on her hips and shook out her limbs, the fringe of her micro-skirt fluttering with the movement.

The bell rang, and the cries for both of them grew louder as the people anticipated sexy violence. She... had kind of come to adore that sound, perhaps as much or more than her own shows. Dinah dropped instantly into her kickboxing stance, hands up and chin tucked, and began to circle the perimeter. If she had learned anything from kickboxing, it was to play prey to a bigger predator... and use her speed to beat them. Louise didn't look that quick... so time to lure her in, and she gestured with waggling fingers to do exactly that.