Football Tackle!

Your arms aren't strong, and you don't have much time, but your light body is still, like, 55 kilos! A lot of that is boobies. You run straight for her, leap only just into the air, and slam every single one of those kilograms into the stumbling, injured, Bombardier!

It's your ultimate attack, the best thing you had, but even still it only knocks her back a little. As she takes a few more steps backwards from the **** you just subjected her to, an unlucky grouping of sweat drops result in her back foot's ankle slipping across the mat, and--

oooooooh. Ouch. Yeah, that looked like it hurt.

The Bombardier falls back, blinded by her own hands which clasp at her face, and the back of her head slams hard into the corner ring post behind her. She goes limp on it, her hands falling to her sides, as she slides down it to make contact with the ring mat. Out cold. Out cold! You quickly check her over. Her nose isn't broken or bleeding or anything (you were just wearing runners), and neither is the back of her head. You don't know how to check for a pulse, but her bosom shifts up and down with breath. You didn't kill her! But you did beat her. You demolished her at her own game! Maybe you have hope as a fighter after all...

After an excited audience congratulates you on the dethronement you just performed with cheers and claps and whistles, you're handed your prize money by the man who brought you here and congratulated on being a 'real, tough fighter'. The Bombardier has such a cute, peaceful expression on her face as she slumbers in the corner of the ring, head propped up by the ring post that did her in. That's what the big meanie gets for trying to smother you.... s-she's the real bimbo- no, that's too mean.

You change back, return the pink attire, and return to town far richer and overjoyed.