No, but you can roll away (requires 2 STAMINA)

Out of range, now!

You pull yourself, with gasping effort, away from the Schoolgirl's corner. No standing up yet but you're out of range. That's a few seconds to recover. The audience boo's you for ruining their flight show. But they aren't mad for long. Your estimate of Tiffany's range was woefully bad.

How? I'm over half-way across the ring?

The sight of her in flight is a Kodak moment, until the point of her elbow lands square on your balls. It's the highest low-blow ever. You jolt upright & scream silently, wearing a mask of comedic pain.

"Oh man, that'll crack your eggs." The announcer's sympathy is a weak salve. Especially for what comes next.

There's the feel of a foot on your crotch & hands on your ankles. When you see the Schoolgirl get ready to pull, you literally shake your head in protest.

"Please no" it says.

"So you give?"

That's not an option, at least not yet, so she fulfils her threat. Her foot, in. Your balls, flat.

"Johnny likes his eggs scrambled?"

White searing pain overwhelms you, blinds you. Thrashing torso & flailing arms uselessly. Every twitch of Tiff's foot flattens you out.

"You wanna sing soprano? Let's hear Oh Say Can You See!"

Your cries are closer to castrato than soprano.

"Then let's hear 'I give Miss Tiffany' Do... you... give?"