Lola is the target of Raw Randy's unintentional new technique

The newcomer, Raw Randy, seemed to have the luck of the devil. He’d landed a punch that shouldn’t have worked against an opponent of his own skill level, let alone a seasoned ARMS Grand Prix competitor. Still, a fluke could be just that. “Me going out on one in the tournament today was a fluke too,” Lola reminded herself. “I’m just having an off day. Or… Randy’s having a really good one, maybe.” She pressed one finger to her red-painted lower lip thoughtfully.

It still wasn’t time for her to throw a punch, but she thought that she needed a dash or two of whimsy to get her mojo back. She couldn’t go too soft on Randy, either. He’d had his little ego boost– now it was her turn to get back on top!

As for Randy, the first punch had worked a lot better than he’d figured, boosting his confidence, probably more than it needed to be boosted. “Hey, I think I’m in the zone! I got this! I might win, right? It’s like, fifty-fifty!” he psyched himself up. This time, he tried launching a real punch. Not a terribly well-aimed one, but a punch nonetheless, unlike the swipe he’d tried a moment ago.

Lola grinned and let the punch sail by her, this time without damage, before moving in closer. Rather than launch a punch, she went for a trick, grabbing hold of her opponent’s elastic arm in both fists and stretching it above her head like a jump rope. In a feat of acrobatic prowess, she skipped rope, criss-crossing it below her legs between hops and giggling to herself. She didn’t get many opportunities to do this against veteran fighters, but it was a fun way to show off…

… Although, in this case, it was showing off more than she meant to. Each bounce caused her pushed-up tits to bounce and jiggle, while the babydoll nightie flapped up to show rather risque lace underpants over a fur-lined, darker pink thong. Once she realized the crowd reaction, mostly catcalls, she realized what she was doing and abruptly stopped, throwing aside the arm quickly with an embarrassed grin, while pulling down the hem of her dress. “Eh hehe, uh, that’s all the show you get for free!” she switched attitude, turning her accidental peepshow into a joke.

That mistake was pretty harmless compared to the other one she’d made. In using the arm as a jump-rope, she’d sent it off like a whip, one that Randy had no control over. The kid’s fist was bouncing against the cage at odd angles, like a ricocheting bullet, and as it swung its way back around, Lola found herself in the crossfire. “Yikes!” she winced, bending her body this way and that to make sure the metal-plated fist didn’t wallop her with a random shot.

When it finally came to a skidding stop with the arm tied into a knot at the man’s feet, she was panting with exertion. “Wooooo-hoo! There’s my exercise for the day!” she joked, laughing and wiping at her forehead. She wasn’t used to fighting in such a small arena… and furthermore, without using her inflated form, which could have made the fist a non-issue. That had been more harrowing than she’d meant for it to be.

An odd cracking noise came from nearby her ears. She blinked a few times, then checked her candy hair with one hand. Suddenly, the hairband snapped into two, sending her hair falling down into random curls. “Wuh?” she gasped, now moving both hands there, only for various other pieces of her wardrobe to begin malfunctioning as well. The ribbon binding her waist severed, allowing the nightie to lose its shape and billow freely. The other garter holding up her right stocking snapped, and as she bent at the knees to address it, she felt the gown splitting up the back as well. Lola used her long, stretchy arms to grab the sides and hold them together before the tear could worsen, but the crowd had gotten a look at her back, all the way from her shoulder-blades to just above her rear.

“H-Hey! We can name that new attack after me, right? Let’s call it the Raw Ricochet!” Randy suggested. “It was kind of cool, huh?! Like being caught in a whirlwind of attacks!”

Lola could barely focus on his voice. As her peach-and-pink colored curls bobbed in front of her face, she became more and more conscious of the eyes of the crowd. Wearing this babydoll in front on a televised program was bad enough, but not wearing it was actually going to be worse. Part of her wanted to call for a stop of the match. After all, a wardrobe malfunction during a match wasn’t good for official sponsors or all-ages audiences. She was getting the idea that here, it might be the point!

Another part of her, however, knew that the show must go on. Sure, it was embarrassing, but quitting now would be just as embarrassing, in a way! If she could just turn the match around, she could treat this like a bump in the road.

She brought her fists up to her lips, blew into them for luck, then spun her Funchucks in a circle, adopting her grin once again. “Glad to see all that goofing around put a smile on that face, Randy!” she chuckled, trying to match her adversary’s good humor. “Unfortunately, comedy has winners and losers, and I’m done losing for today! Hoooonk-” she began, winding up one arm for power, now at her ideal mid-range from his body. Both her arm and her Funchuck spun in unison, spelling out a truly wild incoming attack. “Hooooonk!”

—--

Roll 6!

Outfit durability: 21/28 (babydoll lingerie loose and torn down the back, stockings, garter belt torn on both sides, rubber nose)