A luckless win for the unlucky Lola Pop

With Randy pinned underneath her and with her not needing to throw any more punches at this point, Lola figured her unlucky streak was over. The universe had it out for her today in more ways than one, but in a situation like this, nothing short of an act of God could cause her to lose. It had been a humiliating road to get here, but in the end, she was going to make her opponent tap in a submission hold-- or KO him if he didn't tap-- and she'd be able to collect her money and never think about the S-A-T arena again. It was likely to end up being a black mark on her card that people talked about around the water cooler for a long time to come. "Hey, remember that time Lola Pop, that clown from the ARMS circuit, choked a guy half-to-**** in a steel cage, dressed in just a little more than a thong? Was that real?" Maybe in time, she'd be able to convince people it wasn't. Much to think about.

Randy was showing a rare fighting spirit, the kind that only comes to a guy who's thiiiis close to beating a seasoned ARMS veteran in his first official bout ever. You can't just throw away an opportunity like that by tapping out! As such, he squirmed and squirmed, writhing this way and that to try to find a way to get one of his tapey arms free. These Beginner's Luck gloves really were his lucky gloves. If he could just throw a punch, he felt confident there was still a chance at victory! Unfortunately, both of his arms remained pinned. By a girl, no less... By a clown, beloved by children everywhere, no less! Talk about adding insult to injury.

Lola was still saying something about how sorry she was about all of this, interspersed with jokes that were probably intended to calm him down, but were in pretty questionable taste given the situation. He couldn't even hear her any more-- he was losing his senses.

He'd told her earlier that the Raw Ricochet was going to be his new special attack and it had worked well... but there was another skill too. Nobody can become an official fighter without one, so of course, he'd practiced it. His coach had told him to save it for the very last second and buddy, this was starting to look like the very last second possible. It was now or never!

Randy couldn't stretch his arms any more to get his fist to his mouth, but he could get his head over to one of the pinned fists if he tried. He breathed in hard-- a difficult proposition given his current lack of air-- then clenched his mouth around one thumb, blowing as hard into the glove as he could manage. It seemed like an insane technique. After all, air was what he was in the very shortest supply of right now. Still, it seemed to be enough-- his fist began to expand like a balloon, quickly gaining in size. That wasn't all-- his ordinarily stringy arms began to inflate as well, making him look like a cartoon character that was in the process of gaining muscle from the top-down by eating a can of spinach.

For her part, Lola had no idea how to explain the sudden feeling of Randy's body firming up underneath her, but she got the feeling he was quickly closing the weight and strength difference between the two of them. In just a moment, he'd be a muscular male and her an average-sized female; he would almost certainly break free from the hold! "W-Wait, Randy, don't make me go harder on you! This is already one-eighty degrees out of character for me," she warned him, while tugging back harder on the balloon-like arm she was using to pull his neck back. He didn't respond, just kept grunting as his muscles expanded. She could feel her body actually begin to lift off of the floor, causing her bottom to push into the air. She ended up less strangling him and more hugging to his back, just trying to keep him pressed down. Her breasts pushed up against his back and her cheek against his neck, as she clenched her teeth and tried to **** him down.

No good! He was still getting bigger. Soon, he'd be as big as a heavyweight fighter like Max Brass or Mad Mummy. There was no way she could keep someone like that on the mat!

And if he threw her off...

Her eyes looked up at the surrounding chain-link fence surrounding the arena. If she got thrown into it again, she had a bad feeling that another wardrobe malfunction was in store for her.

Her talent scout had warned her that, above all else, she needed to avoid turning into ball form. At the time, she had bought his logic, that using a technique like that wasn't fair against a rookie, but now, it was one-hundred percent clear that the real reason she wasn't supposed to do it was that it would ruin all of the A-tier eye-candy the crowd was getting. They'd paid to watch her bounce around in lingerie and get it torn off of her. Well, now they'd get to watch her bounce around, but in a different way. Like Randy, she knew her special technique was to be used in case of emergencies, and this was a real emergency she had on her over-sized boxing glove hands. Also like Randy, the time had now come to inhale a deep, deep breath of air.

"Lola, don't! For the love of money, don't do that!" the talent scout shouted, understanding where this was going. "Take the fall! Just take the fall!" he screamed, rattling the cage in abject horror of what his cash cow was about to subject the arena to.

Randy's weight and muscle may have increased substantially, but there was something a lot heavier than that which could finish the job of squishing the air out of him like a rolling pin. As she took in air, Lola Pop's body began to expand. When it started at her chest, the crowd momentarily cheered: her breasts ballooning out and straining that little eye-patch bikini top was just what they were hoping for. When it continued and her entire body vanished into basically a flesh-colored orb, they began to lose their excitement. Many of them began throwing things towards the cage, feeling cheated, as their eye-candy vanished into a giant sphere with Lola's funny-looking head at the top of it. The march to the front for refunds had already started.

"Nooo no no no! My money! It's going up in smoke!" the gray-gloved manager cried, not realizing the smoke was actually coming from the fur coat he was unintentionally setting fire to, having dropped his lit cigarette onto the hem that was dragging across the floor.

He might not be happy about this outcome, but Lola was. Her newfound weight turned out to be way too much for Randy. The guy exhaled air like a deflating whoopie cushion, rapidly blowing out of the hole in his glove where it had all gone in. When it finished, he lay deflated upon the mat with his tongue sticking out, looking like a Christmas yard decoration that someone forgot to inflate for the holidays.

Gingerly, the announcer read out the verdict: "Winner by knockout... Loooooooooolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Poooooooooooooooop!"

"Honk hoooonk!" Lola cried, swiftly deflating back to her normal size and placing one glove over her balloony bicep, flexing for the crowd. There wasn't much to flex: she had a soft, womanly body and her arms were balloons.

Speaking of her soft, womanly body...

The audience seemed to be reversing their position of asking for a refund, now funneling back into their seats and cheering.

"Grazie, grazie!" Lola cheered, bouncing up and down on her toes (and bouncing other places as well) as she waved her gloves victoriously at the crowd. She even blew them a few kisses. Why not? These guys seemed to have finally found their spirit of sportsmanship and they'd all been so moved about how she'd used her technique to clinch the fight, they were now bonafide Lola Pop fans for life. "I guess the scout wasn't lying: you really can find fans anywhere!"

"Yeah! With tits like those, especially!"

Lola laughed, squeezing her eyes shut with genuine amusement and placing her fists on her hips. The guy was a perv, but it was nice that he sounded happy now, too. Probably because of the money. Now, all she needed to do was get out of here and find some new clothes, ASAP. She opened her eyes and looked downward, like a fighter inspecting a bad wound, wondering what she would see.

A few of the events of the past minute began to make sense. The catcalling of the talent scout, the fans cheering and funneling back into their seats, and the increased draft she felt.

The unfortunate clown had assumed that her wardrobe would account for her inflation technique. That wasn't just because her traditional ARMS gear always did. She'd tested the inflation briefly, after exiting the dressing room, and at the time, she'd been momentarily pleased to see everything stay in place, before her manager had scolded her for using that ability. That had put the thought in her mind: my clothes can handle inflation, but I just can't use it.

As it turned out, that itself was the last bit of her luck. Her wardrobe hadn't been so fortunate this time around. Turning into a giant balloon had popped her stockings into bright pink shreds as though they themselves were a spent balloon casing. The top hadn't fared any better-- it had sprung off uselessly shortly after her girl-balloons started ballooning. The defensive line of the lace panties and fur thong had failed as well, though that should be obvious: there's simply no way something like this could stay on a wearer of such increased girth, unless they were a very special order.

Now, she was left with nothing more than a little fur patch in the shape of a heart, a pasty protecting her maidenhood, wearing a stupid grin in the middle of the arena with her fists on her hips. Everyone behind her could see her uncovered bottom, a perfect bubble butt, ordinarily hidden by her clownish overalls. A few guys back there made jokes about wanting to give it a honk. Anyone to the sides or the front, alternatively, could see her tits hanging out in the open wind. They were nicely shaped, pretty big even without inflation, and tipped with rosy pink nipples that looked right at home with her general color scheme. A few more added that they'd like to honk those. One, forward-thinking, circled back to the candy theme, loudly stating he'd like a taste of those gumdrops.

The whole crowd cheered in newly high spirits as Lola Pop's cheeks began to become as red as though she was still wearing a sort of clown makeup. She crossed one big hand in front of her boobs and the other between her legs, letting the ass-men get their show with no way to stop them. "Uh... H-Honk honk?" she cheered again, keeping a goofy smile on to try to downplay her own humiliation at the way this had ended. At least she didn't have to worry about her opponent seeing it. He was being carried out of the ring on a stretcher. Her bare feet shifted on the ring-mat floor and she slowly made her way to the cage door, thankful for having big-ass ARMS hands to cover herself as she did, but it was a little late-- the crowd had gotten a great look at her chest already.

Lola wasn't one to think about her own sexuality, but she was being **** to think about it a lot today as other audience members tried out all kinds of other candy-themed euphemisms on her. She tried to ignore them, finally making her way back to the door and attempting to push it open with the hand she'd been using to guard the pasty between her legs. It had no give. It didn't seem like they were letting her out yet, despite letting Randy go. "Hey, uh... Someone forgot to unlock my door," she pointed out, hoping to get the attention of her manager.

The guy had produced a new cigarette, but still didn't seem to realize fire was creeping up his pants leg. "Nah, it ain't over yet, sweet-cheeks. There's a bonus round a gal's got to complete before she can collect her money."

"A bonus round?" Lola asked, feeling like she was the only person in the arena in low spirits now. She could hear cameras flashing, taking photos of her make-up less (and clothes-less) appearance from all sides. "Look, I'm endangering my long-term career! I'm going to punch this cage door down if you don't let me out!"

"Relax, toots! Just one little bonus round. That's all it is. Then you're getting a generous payment: everything I promised plus a huge pot from all the extra attendance and the pay-per-view numbers."

Well, she already had her foot in the ant-bed. Might as well make the best of it. "Okay, okay. But what is the bonus round."

"Not even I know that. It's gonna be something that'll knock your socks off, though! If you had any socks left to knock off, that is!" he guffawed, cackling in a wheezy voice, before suddenly turning to screaming as he noticed he was literally on fire.

As her manager desperately tried to slap out the fire with his big gloves, Lola used hers to guard what was left of her modesty, turning around and walking back into the arena's center with her legs squeezed together. She felt like she'd rather fight Doctor Coil's crazy ARMS fighting super monster again than face whatever was left to come.

—-----

Roll 9!

Outfit durability: 1/28 (fur-patch heart pasty over pussy)