And she isn't getting it back.

Statlander pulls on the back of Lyra’s top with one hand and rolls the smaller woman onto her back. Valkyria still isn’t moving and so with a small smirk Kris grabs the front of Lyra’s top with both her hands and just rips the front open with seemingly little effort. The front of her top splits open down the middle, the metal chain designs splitting and sending bronze links scattering across the canvas. With a few quick tugs Lyra’s top was ripped clean from her body, leaving the choker from around her neck hanging loose and useless, her golden tan glowing in the arena lights and her small but perky tits exposed in nothing but the teal bra she was wearing, plain and unexciting but maximizing the size of her bust which rose and fell with her shaky breathing. The crowd break into cheers and wolf whistles as cameras flash from all directions.

Lyra starts to come too and very quickly realises what has happened, letting out a scream of horror at her sudden exposure. Scrambling to her knees one arm quickly shielding her bra while the other tried to yank the wedgied bottoms out of her crack. The sheer back panel had stretched to its absolute limit during the earlier onslaught from Statlander which left her muscular buttocks almost completely on display and now it was all she could do to try to pull them back out and regain some dignity, not that there was much hope of that left. Lyra’s eyes were wide with panic as her ponytail swung with every awkward shuffle as she tried to escape from Statlander. Kris watched Lyra crawl for just a few seconds before grabbing two fistfuls of Lyra’s long brown hair and hauled her upright like she weighed nothing. Valkyria’s free hand flew out for balance, and left her bra undefended as she gave a mortified squeak.

Kris hauled Lyra clean off the mat into a crushing bearhug, powerful arms locked around the smaller woman’s waist like a vice. Lyra’s feet kicked helplessly in the air, her perky tits and teal bra squashed against Kris’s shiny black PVC chest. The height difference was obscene as Statlander hoisted up Valkyria like a child and began to crush the life from her. In pure desperation, Lyra’s hands scrabbled down Kris’s broad back. Her fingers found the high-cut legs of the shiny black one-piece and, with a sudden, frantic yank, she pulled the material upward with everything she had left.

The effect was immediate and brutal.

The PVC disappeared between Kris Statlander’s massive, muscular ass cheeks in a deep, vicious wedgie. The shiny fabric riding high and tight, the geometric silver lines distorting as the material vanished between Kris’s muscular arse cheeks. Kris’s tree-trunk thighs flexed and the high legs of her outfit rode even higher and exposing more of her powerful but dimpled backside. The crowd erupted as the dominant powerhouse suddenly let out a sharp, shocked cry of pain, her face twisting.

“Kris just got a taste of her own medicine!” Mark Madden shouted, half-laughing. “Lyra is giving her a wedgie from hell!”

“You’re damned right Madden! Listen to that scream, Madden!” Jerry Lawler cackled. “Kris’ outfit just got turned into the world’s most expensive thong! And look at her arse! It’s like looking at photos of the moon with all those craters.”

Kris’s grip faltered. She dropped Lyra to the mat with a grunt, immediately reaching back with both hands to try and yank the wedgied material out of her crack. She bent slightly at the waist, powerful ass cheeks clenching and wobbling as she fought to pull the PVC free and for a few humiliating seconds the entire arena got a clear view of just how much of Statlander’s muscular backside was now on display.

Lyra hit the canvas and scrambled to her knees, one arm still trying to shield her bra while the other braced on the mat. Her ponytail swung wildly. Her wide, panicked eyes flicked between the ropes… and Kris still losing the fight against her own outfit.

For one brief moment it looked like Lyra was going to run… but then she launched herself at Statlander, attempting to capitalise on the only moment of vulnerability Kris had shown all match. Lyra surged forward on her knees and drove a hard forearm right between Kris’s legs from behind. It wasn’t quite a low blow, but close enough to make the bigger woman stagger. Then she grabbed the still-wedgied back of the Kris’ outfit and gave it another vicious yank upward, twisting the material even deeper. Kris roared in pain and anger, straightening up and spinning around with murder in her eyes.

But Lyra was already moving. She leapt up, trying to catch Kris with a flying forearm to the jaw only to be caught again as one of Statlander’s hands closed around Lyra’s throat. With an animal like snarl Statlander slammed her head into Valkyria’s with a vicious headbutt, the crack reverberating around the arena. The crowd let out a unified wince as Lyra almost went limp in Kris’s grip and with one smooth motion Statlander scooped up Lyra into a piledriver position. Hooking one leg under her arm Kris bounced on the balls of her feet and then dropped to her knees, driving Lyra’s head into the canvas with a crash. Her Saturday Night Fever finisher as devastating as it looked.