Yes ma’am!

A week goes by, and you’ve been anxiously anticipating your rematch with Sour Cherry Bomb. You’re unsure if you should be worried or excited. The promoter emailed you earlier in the day to inform you it was going to be a ‘Falls Count Anywhere Match’. You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but you assumed Cherry Bomb would tell you when you saw her. Even if your romantic status was unclear.

You make it to the locker room, recalling that the promoter asked you to wear something a little more sturdy since it was going to be no disqualification. So you decide to put on your denim booty shorts, which barely hides your precious buns. You slip into a shiny gold halter top with midriff exposed and cleavage on display. You pop on some brown cowboy boots, your favourite kind of footwear. You give yourself one last look in the mirror, pouting your lips and fluffing your golden hair. You look around to see if Cherry is around, but she is nowhere in sight. Before you have a chance to grow concerned the promoter bursts into the locker room. “Time to make your entrance babydoll!” He barks at you, looking as stout as ever. You rush to make your entrance.

Country music blares out of the speakers of the arena as you walk down the entrance way. The crowd burst into cheers at the sight of you. It seems you’ve gained some fans. You walk by the steel railing to clap hands with some of the fans until you feel a powerful **** nail you from behind. You eat dirt, falling face first onto the ground. You look back to see Cherry Bomb, wielding a giant floppy purple dildo bat. “Let’s get wild!” Cherry Bomb screams as she raises the bat above her head. She delivers three blows to your body, welting you and humiliating you. She rears the dildo like a baseball bat and wallops your rear as you try to crawl away.