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VIX: FALL FROM GRACE @ THE NIAGARA FALLS CENTER
Posted by caspian on 14 July 2024 at 10:09 am
(Results: Lookout, Words: Caspian)
4. Lily Collins vs. Emma Watson XI (AMD Title) - Bare Knuckle Bar Fight
Lily:
(34, 5’5, 112, 86:22 FCBA, VIXENs)
Emma:
(33, 5’5, 70:42 FCBA, VIXENs)
BEFORE:
The press conference for this next fight is held in a rustic, Texas-styled bar in downtown Los Angeles. This venue, with its wood-paneled walls, vintage chandeliers, and a distinctly rough-and-tumble ambiance, sets the perfect backdrop for their upcoming bare-knuckle showdown between sordid rivals, this fight marking the 11th meeting between Lily Collins and Emma Watson.
Both Lily and Emma enter this AMD title fight having tailored their training for the demands of the brutality of such a bout: hand-wrapped fists, only strikes below the neck count on the scorecards. As such, both fighters have focused intensely on strengthening their core muscles, critical for both delivering and absorbing punches. Their preparation also includes enhancing their pain tolerance and refining their punching techniques to maximize impact without the cushioning of gloves.
Collins, our current reigning champ is known for her direct and outspoken nature, enters the bar first this night, addressing the press at the doorway with confidence. "Been awhile since I kicked Emma’s ass. She and I have mostly steered clear of each other, but when I found out she was gunning for my title -- of course she would -- I’m obliged to give her flab tummy a pounding. Tonight will be no different. We’ve fought many times in the past, but tonight, there will be no gloves to soften the blows."
She turns to Emma, "Remember the last time, Em? Seems I left quite an impression in the locker room." She laughs, referencing rumors of a possible backstage showdown, in which she came out on top (according to Lily). Her tone remains light but her eyes sharp, pressing the point to remind everyone present—and especially Emma.
Watson, always poised but with a steely undertone to her composure, flashes a glare but then responds with a slight, almost imperceptible smirk. "Dear Lils loves to recount ghost stories. I don’t know what she’s talking about. But tonight -- tonight is the real deal, isn’t it? Not about what happened in some locker room. And in this bar, under these lights, I’m gonna bury you and take your title with me."
Unfazed, Lily leans closer, her tone tinged with mock concern, "Well, I hope you’ve prepared more than just a good core, Emma. It’s going to take more than that to stop what I’ve got planned for you. Let’s just see whose body can really stand the test tonight, shall we?"
Emma, with a smirk, meets her gaze without flinching. "Oh, I’m ready, dear Lils. More than you know. Those abs of yours? They’ll be nothing more than a nice little memory once I’m done with you."
The chosen venue for this contest, an old bar with a cleared middle space serving as the makeshift "ring," promises a brutal and unorthodox fighting environment. The surrounding furniture, including wooden chairs and tables, could become part of the fight, lending a potentially chaotic and dangerous element to the bout. The absence of a formal audience, with only camera crews capturing every grimace and grunt, adds a gladiatorial feel to the encounter.
Of course, under AMD rules, the fight emphasizes body punishment, with shots below the neck scoring points, although below the waist is frowned upon but not prohibited. Elbows and knees are allowed, adding a brutal layer to the combat. The objective remains clear: incapacitate the opponent to the point they can’t stand, employing strategy, endurance, and sheer force.
Later, the atmosphere in the old Texas-styled bar is thick with anticipation as the crowd, tightly packed against the windows and watching the action unfold on the television set-up outside, awaits the entrance of both competitors. The rustic setting, with its weathered wood and dimly lit chandeliers, casts dramatic shadows, perfectly encapsulating the gritty, no-holds-barred nature of the upcoming bare-knuckle bar fight.
The crowd's murmur turns into a roar as Lily Collins makes her entrance from one end of the bar. Her walk is confident, almost regal, as she steps into the cleared middle space that serves as tonight's ring. Lily's attire is a simple black tank top that showcases her impressively sculpted arms and shoulders. Her shorts are equally practical, dark, and snug, allowing maximum mobility. The most notable aspect of her look is her midsection – visibly toned and muscular, her abs seem carved from stone with every flex, emphasizing her physical readiness for the contest. Her hands are tightly wrapped with white tape, ready for the bare-knuckle bout.
Moments later, Emma Watson enters from the opposite side. Her attire mirrors Lily's in practicality but contrasts in color; she sports a stark white sports bra and matching compression shorts that highlight her lean, powerful physique. Emma's core muscles ripple under her skin, not as toned and defined as Lily’s, but still respectable. Her face is set in a determined, almost stoic expression, and like Lily, her fists are wrapped in black tape, stark against her pale attire.
As they square off, the visual contrast is striking. Lily, dressed in dark attire, her skin glistening slightly with anticipation, has her muscles sharply defined under the soft overhead lights. Her abdomen shows clear, deliberate contours, each muscle carved from rigorous training, hinting at her strength and resilience. Her posture is dominant, shoulders squared, exuding a silent challenge to her opponent.
Emma, in white gear, offers a vivid contrast. The light fabric accentuates her toned physique, highlighting the sculpted lines of her core, where each breath she takes makes her muscles ripple visibly. Her stance mirrors Lily's—equally aggressive and poised. The tension in her arms and the slight flexing of her abs as she breathes deeply are testament to her readiness and focus.
"Hope you're ready to spend a lot of time on the floor tonight, because that’s exactly where I’m going to put you—over and over until you can't beat the count,” Lily says.
Emma smirks back, her own confidence unshaken. "Keep dreaming, Lily. It’s going to be your own body that gives out. I’ll make sure of it. It’s gonna hurt each time you take a breath."
They step forward, their heads close, foreheads nearly touching, just waiting for the signal, the intensity of their rivalry manifesting in their clenched fists and taut expressions. The referee, observing the increasing physicality and psychological warfare, steps in, reminding them of the boundaries of the pre-fight conduct. He urges restraint, but his words do little to cool their aggressive fervor.
Before things spark off, he waves for the opening bell, and HERE WE GO with ten rounds of Flyweight AMD action! This here’s for the AMD title!
ROUND 1:
Lily launches the first salvo, a powerful right hook sailing in from outta nowhere. Her movement is initially fluid, reminiscent of a traditional boxing ring strategy, but the cramped quarters of the bar quickly become a factor. As she swings forward, Emma instinctively dodges, and her thigh bangs into a nearby chair leg, momentarily throwing her off balance. Watson herself capitalizes on the opening, sidestepping deftly around a bar stool, maintaining balance and positioning herself to send back jabs, precise and targeted, finding gaps in the champ’s hastily raised guard. The Brit’s head movement is slick; she ducks under a wild swing from Collins, before both women go grappling into each other’s arms once more. Wrestling and plugging fists into the sides, Emma gets backed into a table, the edge pressing against her butt, but she uses it to pivot, turning a potential stumble into a strategic retreat, then launching a counter hook that catches Lily on the ribs. Collins, refusing to be outdone, grabs Emma’s hair in the close clinch, yanking her head down while hammering more punches into her exposed sides. The brawl quickly descends into chaos, with both combatants pulling, pushing, and striking with unchecked ferocity, their battle punctuated by the dull impacts of flesh being pummeled, grunts of exertion, and the scraping of furniture being shoved aside in the melee.
Watson, finding herself momentarily pressed against the bar stool, uses the solid surface to push off and deliver a crushing elbow to Lily’s midsection, exploiting the close quarters to her advantage. As the round nears its end, the initial flurry of movement settles into a brutal tug-of-war. Each fighter jockeys for better position, using every tool at their disposal. Collins is still wailing away at the arms and body under, but Emma has braced her body and dipped a forearm, handling the assault well. Though pinned, she parries a final blow, before slipping a right hand inwards and countering with a tight uppercut that SNAPS Lily’s head back just as the bell rings. The round is scored closely on points, with the former Harry Potter starlet slightly ahead due to her effective counterstrikes. Both combatants, breathing heavily and marked by the physicality of their encounter, retreat to opposite ends of the bar.
ROUND 2:
The intensity in the bar hasn't waned; if anything, it has escalated. Both Collins and Watson dive right back into the fray with unrestrained ferocity. The environment, with its close confines and scattered furniture, becomes a significant factor in their strategies. This time, chairs are overturned and tables slid aside as the fighters create more space to maneuver—or more obstacles to use against each other. Then, they fly at each other, clinching up frequently, grappling tightly, free fists finding their way to vulnerable abs, each punch punctuated by grunts of effort and pain. Each grapple in the center sees the rivals locking arms tightly, their bodies pressed together in a desperate attempt to gain leverage early on with their strengths still intact. Watson, her breath quick and sharp, tries to maintain her footing on the slippery floor marked by spilled drinks and the scuff of boots, whilst Collins, with a low center of gravity, uses her body weight to push her backward. At the advantage, Lily strikes first, driving her knuckles into the soft area just below the side of Emma's ribs, the sound of flesh pounded muffled by the ambient noise of the bar, but the impact is clear—the challenger’s body jerks with each hit, her face contorting in pain.
But Watson, not passive in her defense, manages to wedge her arm between their bodies, before countering with her own series of punches, targeting Lily’s abdomen itself. Her fists, though slightly less steady, deliver enough force to make Collins grunt in discomfort. Spectators close to the action near the window can hear the dull impacts of compacted muscle and the sharp intakes of breath. They see the strain on both fighters' faces, the sweat beading on their foreheads, and the fire in their eyes, as each punch lands with a muted whud against dampened skin. Initially, Watson seems to gain the upper hand. She manages to twist her body, positioning herself with her back to Lily, attempting to minimize the targets available for her opponent to strike. However, her maneuver leaves her close to a sturdy wooden table—an opportunity Collins doesn't miss. Lily surges in, using her momentum to shove her rival against the table. The sudden push throws Emma off balance, her body slamming against the hardwood. Dipping low, Lily huffs and puffs away, delivering a barrage of brutal uppercuts directly to the underside of her navel. Each punch sinks into trembling flesh, doubling the challenger over again and again with a hooufff and urrkkk! before a particularly powerful blast literally LIFTS Emma off her feet by inches, allowing Lily to surge inwards, wrap her arms around her waistline, and then deposit her onto the low surface of the table itself! Adrenaline running over, both girls catch their breath briefly, still holding onto each other, with Emma's butt sprawled across the table surface, her breaths heavy and ragged.
Her legs dangle awkwardly off one side, while her upper body is propped up slightly by her elbows, displaying a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of defense. Her hair, once neatly tied back, is now disheveled, strands sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead. Collins smirks briefly in her face, grabbing a substantial clutch of her hair, not just as a means of control but as a symbol of dominance, forcing Emma’s head back, exposing her neck and upper chest, before driving her fist forwards, delivering punch after punch into her exposed and vulnerable midsection. Each punch sinks into her trembling tummy with a satisfying splat, the sound of flesh being compacted is almost squelchy, drowned out only by the collective gasps and murmurs of the wilting British actress above. The targeted area, just above Emma's navel, is packed in and churned by the invasive fists, quickly reddening. With each connection, Emma’s body reacts—her torso attempting to curl protectively, only to be jerked back into vulnerability by Lily’s firm hold on her hair. Her facial expressions cycle through pain, disbelief, and a grim determination to endure, her teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut at the impact of each strike, the puhh of Lily’s punches mixing with her own labored breathing, and the slight creak of the wooden table under the shifting weight. Between blows, Collins leans forward to taunt her, her voice low and menacing. "Not so tough now, are you, Ems?" Each word is spit out with contempt, designed to erode Watson’s spirit as much as her body. Finally, she releases her grip on Emma's hair and steps back, allowing Watson's dazed form to sliiiiideeeeee off the table and collapse to the floor below in a distraught heap! I guess we get an early, brutal KNOCKDOWN from the champ herself! The thud of Emma's body hitting the ground resonates through the bar, drawing a collective gasp from the onlookers, and immediately, the referee begins the count. The bar falls silent at the brutal display of violence thus far, and some wonder if this could be an early night for the challenger. However, by the count of seven, Emma manages to push herself off the ground, visibly shaken but determined to continue. Her eyes are narrowed as she rises, hugging her tummy, the knockdown clearly having had an effect on her being. But as the round concludes, Collins returns to one end of the bar counter, downing a gulp of Jack Daniels, with a satisfied nod from her coaches, while Watson is supported by her team, trying to shake off the effects of the knockdown on her other end of the bar stool.
ROUND 3:
The action unfolds with a more tactical approach this time, particularly from Emma, who appears determined to reclaim some control of the fight. Recognizing the need to avoid close-quarters combat after that unfortunate beating on the table, she starts to use the limited space of the bar more effectively, sidestepping around tables and chairs, creating more distance between herself and Collins. It may seem cowardly at first, but this distance allows her to launch and land a series of quick jab combos aimed high and low, hoping to weaken Collins by targeting previously untouched areas. Her jabs are quick and sharp, cutting through the air as she maintains distance, making it difficult for the champ to close in. Quickly, Lily's frustration mounts. She attempts to maneuver around the obstacles by leaping over them or feigning a rush to the left before trying to ambush Emma the other way, but the challenger’s sharp of mind, quickly shifting her footwork once more and avoiding a direct confrontation, making Collins stumble over the furniture multiple times. Worse, Watson targets her face with well-timed punches, trying to disorient her and gain valuable seconds to set up her next big move, and Collins’ constant closing in means she’s leaving herself way exposed too often, and takes several sharp hits right to the nose and lips. They may not count on the scoreboards, but those red welts slowly building tell a different story indeed.
In the last minute of the round, Lily’s patience wears thin, and her tactics shift back to outright aggression. She corners Emma at the very end of the bar, herding her with punches towards the bar top counter itself, before literally barreling inwards and muscling the Brit backwards in a shoulder charge, aiming to pin her down once and for all. With Watson’s back against the hard surface, she unleashes her pent-up frustration, throwing lefts and rights all-in to her braced tummy, in an agonizing barrage of punches. Each punch is delivered with force, intended to sap Emma’s strength and will to fight back and bring her down for the second and final time. Yes, it’s been an onslaught, but Watson shows remarkable resilience. She braces her abs, which have experienced worse in the past, absorbing the impacts with gritted teeth and a grimace. Her ability to withstand this barrage keeps her in the fight, her posture defensive, back arching from each blow backwards, but unyielding under pressure, even when Lily positions herself squarely in front of her, her eyes narrowing as she targets her navel itself, an area she intends to dominate. She pulls back her right arm, her knuckles wrapped tightly. The punch lands with a deep whud against the center of Emma’s core. The Brit’s muscles, visibly tensed and braced for the impact, ripple under the force of the blow. But her ab wall, conditioned through rigorous training, flexes sharply, attempting to dissipate the energy of the fist. Yet, the force is such that it visibly pushes her back against the bar, her body rocking slightly with the impact.
Emma grimaces, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbs it. But she quickly adjusts her footing, planting her feet more firmly to provide stability and better withstand the subsequent punches. Her hands instinctively tighten on Lily’s shoulders, gripping the stern flesh for additional support. Lily’s next punch aims even lower, trying to target the softer part of her abdomen. The sound of her knuckles striking Watson’s body is a mix of a smack and a crunch, indicating the mix of speed and sheer, brute force. Each punch seems to try to burrow deeper into Emma’s core, challenging the very integrity of her core strength. The repeated impacts cause her to bend slightly forward, her body's natural reaction to protect itself. Yet, she manages to pull herself back upright each time, her face set with focus, rocking the occasional elbow back across Lily’s face for punishment. The crowd just outside can see the redness forming on her skin where the punches land, a testament to the severity of Lily’s attacks. Collin continues to put in her 150%, alternating between straight punches that target the center of the stomach and hook punches that aim for Emma's sides, attempting to wrap around and find soft spots in her defense. Her knuckles continue to dig into the flesh, each impact leaving a temporary imprint that fades just as the next blow arrives. As the bell rings, Lily, predictably, ignores it and drives a final punch—a controversial and illegal shot—with particular ferocity. Her taped knuckles crumple into the center of Emma’s solar plexus, squarely below her ribs, driving all the air out of her lungs. Watson doubles over from the illegal blow, her body momentarily giving way to the overwhelming pain as she gasps for breath in Lily’s arms. The referee immediately intervenes, issuing a stern warning for the late hit, noting the infraction that could influence the fight’s outcome if such actions continue. The round ends with the crowd buzzing, divided between admiration for Emma’s toughness and disapproval of the champ’s unsportsmanlike conduct. But hey, this is AMD warfare, and f*ck if the champion gives a sh*t at the end of the night. The judges score the round closely, with Collins narrowly winning on points due to her aggressive control in the final minute, despite the late-round controversy.
ROUND 4:
As Round 4 unfolds, Watson begins to dig deep, showcasing a masterclass in tactical fighting. She shifts gears now, and takes advantage of Collins’ more sluggish form, after the champ failed to put her away for three rounds in a row now. At first, Emma maintains a tight guard, her eyes sharply focused on her foe’s movements. As Lily launches her attacks, she uses deft footwork to sidestep and dodge, maintaining her distance and avoiding the brunt of them. After evading a particularly aggressive swing, she counters, suddenly skirting forward and delivering a series of staggering haymakers directly to Lily’s face! OUFF! The sound of her taped fists connecting with Lily's cheeks is a sharp CRACK after crack, each blow circumventing Lily’s guard and causing her head to reel back, leaving her dazed, and her defensive posture crumbling. Immediately, Watson lunges in, grabbing a handful of Lily’s hair, pulling her towards the nearest wall with unyielding force. With Lily’s back slammed against the rough surface, Emma begins her merciless and long-awaited assault. A punishing elbow smacks into Lily’s ribcage, audibly thudding as it compresses the air from her lungs. Alternating her attacks, she then drives her knee upwards into Lily’s abdomen, the cap slamming into her lower abs and lurching her body forward with a groan. Satisfied with Lily’s subdued nature but not content with just body blows, Emma occasionally snaps a quick punch straight to her rival’s face, keeping Lily disoriented and unable to mount any effective counterattack. All Collins can do is slap and flail back, tugging on the Brit actress’ hair to hold on. And in the waning seconds of the round, Emma focuses her attention on Lily’s pulsing midsection, a series of brutal uppercuts driven into the same spot: taped fists dig deeply into the trembling flesh of the area just below the navel, where she can inflict maximum discomfort. Each forceful uppercut is delivered with such force that Lily’s body jerks upward and forward, each whuddd and haaaughh echoing within the tight space of the bar.
Outside, the raucous cheer of the Emma Watson supporters fill the air, glad that their chosen warrior is finally fighting back. Emma uses her body as a tool of control and domination, keeping Lily pinned against the rough, aged wood of the wall in the final minute, her shoulder pressed into the champ’s chest to stifle any attempt to move or escape. With one arm firmly gripping the top of her hair, Emma controls Lily’s dazed head, while her other hand works viciously, delivering more and more punishing blows to her very core. The close contact forces their bodies to pulse against each other with every strike and countermove. Emma’s chest heaves against Lily’s with each deep breath they both take, making it more difficult for the girl getting pounded out to breathe. The texture of the wall behind becomes an unforgiving barrier, its rough surface scraping against Lily’s exposed skin, and worse, Emma’s breath, hot and quick from the exertion, is a constant presence by her ear, a reminder of her fading control. Finally, as the bell rings to signal the end of the round, Emma does not immediately release her grip on Lily’s hair. Instead, she pulls her head back slightly, leaning in close to press her lips into her cheek, and whisper tauntingly, "Still think you’re the best, champ?" The referee finally pulls her off, and Emma’s performance in this round is definitely secured on the judges' scorecards, and it’s a question if the challenger can seize her momentum going forward...
ROUND 5:
Both fighters step into the fray with clear strategies, knowing that every punch could tilt the scales in this closely contested battle. The bar, dense with overturned chaos, watches as each fighter looks to assert dominance over the other girl. Emma initiates the action with a series of sharp jabs aimed straight down at Lily’s torso, each punch meant to chip away at her opponent’s stamina and resolve. Collins has her guard high and up, wincing and absorbing the early thuds and blows, but quickly counters with a targeted hook to the side of Emma's ribs, which lands with a sharp grunt, making her momentarily falters. Sensing an opening, Lily pivots left, and launches a powerful uppercut aimed high this time, straight for the chin. However, Watson, showcasing her agility, dodges to the side, the punch grazing her shoulder instead. Quickly, she responds with a dipped shoulder right cross that catches Lily on her upper belly, forcing her body to lurch forwards, and back away towards the nearby counter top. Lily barely has seconds to recover and straighten before Emma’s ON her, swiftly delivering another hook across her face before tying her up against the bar's cramped space, using her body to keep Lily pinned against the counter, and her body weight to restrict her opponent's movements. Collins struggles against the hold, managing to pivot her leaner frame and reverse their positions, and force Watson against the high counter instead. Their breathing is thick and heavy as they grapple, arms grabbing arms, legs criss crossed, hips banging inwards, used as rams to hammer their dominance home. It’s a brutal dance that Lily is too experienced with. She manages to hook one arm around Watson's back, pulling her even close to limit her mobility and stop those stray fists from landing off her ribs. Then, with her free hand, she grasps Emma's shoulder, pinning her back and against the cool surface of the bar top. Watson, feeling herself losing the wrestling contest, uses her legs to stabilize herself, her own hands grappling at Collins' sweat-slicked forearms, seeking any leverage to shift the balance.
Only, once Lily secures her position, she frees one of her fists and delivers a calculated punch directly into the soft area just below Emma's ribcage. It’s a solid hit, the sound of a PUH muffled by the din of the surrounding crowd but the effect is unmistakable—Watson's body jerks to the side from the force, a sharp exhale escaping her lips. Lily smirks and taunts her, already pulling her fist back to deliver a similar strike. But Emma lowers her center of gravity and twists her torso, leveraging her position to unbalance Lily further. With a sudden surge, Emma pushes off the counter, reversing their positions, with a fluid movement that catches Collins off-guard. Lily hits the sharp edge of the top with a gasp and pain jolting through her spine, and this time, Emma is the one who wastes no time. A retaliatory punch digs squarely into Lily’s stomach, aiming somewhat higher, just under the diaphragm, maximizing the discomfort and forcing Collins to double over the invasive fist slightly. This exchange of positions and punches becomes a recurring motif of the round. Each time one fighter gains the upper hand and delivers a debilitating body blow, the other finds a way to reverse the situation. Lily, after taking a punishing hit from Emma, regains her footing and, with gritty resolve and strength, manages to maneuver Watson back against the counter, before digging her feet in the ground and rotating her hips for extra power -- the focused punch is drilled into Emma’s solar plexus, visibly distorting the flesh and making a brief cavity in her ab wall… only to have Watson again find her own strength and strategy to flip the script, wrestling the champ right around and striking her anew. No such luck for all their effort, and as the bell rings, both fighters are seen sagging and heaving hard in each other’s arms, their faces showing both fatigue and fierce resolve. The referee has to step in, prying them apart to disengage. As they step back, both are battered, their energy sapped, but their spirits remain combative to see this bout through to the bitter end.
ROUND 6:
Both fighters, battered and exhausted, cling to each other, their bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace of mutual support and antagonism. Sweat glistens on their skin, mingling with the amber glint of whiskey on Lily's lips. Their breaths are ragged, each inhale and exhale labored and strained. With their arms wrapped around each other for support, both women begin to deliver tight, short-ranged uppercuts into each other's bodies. The close proximity intensifies the power of each punch, the sound of knuckles meeting tensed ab muscles echoing through the bar with dull thuds. Emma, her face contorted in a glare, pulls her arm back slightly and drives her fist upward into Lily’s abdomen. The punch lands with a solid puhh, sinking deep. Lily’s body jerks, her abs contracting instinctively to brace against the blow. Her breath hitches, but her grip on Emma tightens as she tries to maintain her balance. Gritting her teeth, she retaliates with an uppercut of her own, using the strength of her legs to drive her fist upward into Emma’s stomach. The punch connects with a whud, causing the challenger’s body to bow inward from the invasive force. Emma gasps, her head snapping back slightly as the pain radiates through her core. But she quickly regains her composure, her eyes blazing with defiance. Driven by sheer will, both fighters continue to exchange these brutal uppercuts. Emma’s knuckles repeatedly find their mark, striking just above Lily’s navel with a heavy thump, each punch driving deeper and deeper into her abs. Lily’s body shudders, her abs pulsing as they try to withstand the assault. Not to be outdone, Lily’s uppercuts target Emma’s midsection with surgical precision. Each blow lands with a firm, satisfying smack, causing Emma’s toned torso to twist and her knees to buckle slightly. The sound of flesh meeting flesh is rhythmic, almost hypnotic, as the two fighters push each other to their limits. The cumulative effect of the punches begins to take its toll. Both women’s bodies show the signs of punishment, their abs reddened and bruised. Emma’s punches force Lily to bend further and further, her head and body bowing forward as her strength wanes. But Lily holds on, refusing to go down. Lily’s punches, though equally powerful, have a similar effect on Emma. Each uppercut causes Emma to bow more, her legs to tremble, her grip on Lily’s shoulders tightening as she struggles to remain upright. Her abs contract with each hit, the muscles working overtime to absorb the force.
Suddenly, it’s Lily who breaks the rhythm, throwing a powerful haymaker into the air, her taped fist connecting squarely with Emma's cheek. The impact is jarring, throwing the challenger off balance and sending Emma crashing backwards into a nearby shelf. The force of the blow rattles the shelves, causing bottles and glasses to clink and clatter, a few toppling to the floor with a shattering crash. Snarling and heaving, Lily marches right after her, lunging at her before she can fully recover. Standing right in front, she delivers a series of brutal punches all over Emma’s body, aimed to maximize damage. Emma, stunned and reeling, is pushed and pinned and pummeled against various surfaces—the wall, a shelf, the countertop—each one becoming a temporary battleground as she struggles to survive. Pinned now, Emma struggles to maintain her defense as Lily's fists repeatedly sink into her abdomen. Her face contorts with pain, each blow causing her body to shudder and jerk involuntarily. Yet, she refuses to go down. She clings to Lily, using her body for support, her fingers digging into arms or shoulders or hair, desperately trying to hold on. At times, she braces herself against the nearby furniture, using whatever she can to absorb and deflect the force of the punches. And in the final seconds, Lily snarls with frustration, her face inches from Emma's, her breath hot and harsh as she delivers a final barrage of lefts and rights all over Emma's torso. The punches sink in and hammer at the flesh and muscle, each balled fist driving deeper into Emma’s core, causing her wilting body to jolt and shudder violently. Emma's abdomen reddens with each strike, her muscles straining to withstand the onslaught. But the Brit actress’ ab wall holds firm, though clearly battered and bruised. At the bell, all Lily can do is snarls through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna break you, Ems. Right here, under my fists.” She punctuates her threat with another shove of her fist into Emma’s stomach, her upturned fist penetrating the battered material and forcing another throaty groan from Watson. The referee pulls Lily back, forcing her to break, but the push has clearly taken a toll on her as well, breathing heavily back to her corner of the bar. Emma, however, has to be supported to hers, her body trembling, her abdomen hugged gingerly, a testament to the brutal beating she has endured. She slowly stumbles and sits onto her stool, still clutching her midsection, her face contorted in pain but her spirit not entirely broken. No doubt, the judges score the round a shutout in favor of Collins, acknowledging her dominant performance. How much more can these two take, though?
ROUND 7:
Emma and Lily, their bodies slick with sweat and battered from the non-stop punishment, cling to each other, both fighters on the verge of collapse. From the outside, the crowd watches with bated breath, knowing they are witnessing the defining moment of the fight. Both fighters tremble, their muscles straining under the pressure of trying to overpower the other. Such is the nature of an AMD brawl, with the close proximity of the arena forcing their bodies into an even closer dance, making each punch more intimate and devastating. They find themselves locked in a brutal struggle against the walls of the bar-room, the rough, aged wood pressing against their backs, chipped paint and splinters adding to the discomfort. Their bodies are slick with sweat, making their grips on each other's hair even more desperate and determined. With one hand buried in Lily's disheveled dark hair, Emma uses her other fist to deliver a powerful punch to the champion’s stomach. It lands with a deep "whud," causing Lily's abs to contract and her breath to hitch. But Lily responds in kind, her fist slamming into Emma's midsection with a loud "puhh," forcing a gasp from her lips in turn. Their faces are mere inches apart, eyes locked in a fierce glare. The proximity allows them to feel each other's hot breath on forehead or cheek. Emma, her grip tightening in Lily's hair, pulls her head back, exposing her neck and upper chest. Before Lily can react, she drives another punch into the center of her stomach, her taped knuckles digging deep into the soft flesh, making her body jerk, her abs straining to absorb the blow. Lily still refuses to be outdone, gathering her breath and snarling. She yanks Emma's hair to the side, pulling her head to the side and exposing her pulsing and vulnerable midsection. With a grunt of effort, Lily rams her fist into her center as well, the force of the punch causing Emma's body to bend forward slightly. The exchange continues, each punch landing with brutal precision. The sound of knuckles meeting flesh is accompanied by sharp intakes of breath and pained gasps. Their hands remain tangled in each other's hair, the tight grip ensuring neither can escape the other's wrath. As the round progresses, their movements become more desperate, their punches more forceful. Lily uses her free hand to push at Emma’s shoulders, pinning her harder against the wall, then driving her fist repeatedly into her solar plexus, forcing the Brit to lurch forward and collapse into her waiting embrace. And just like that, the champ seizes control! Her grip on her rival’s hair remains tight and unyielding as she props the challenger up with a thrust of her shoulder to the chest, then pulls her fist back to deliver a series of punishing uppercuts down the middle curves of her torso.
Lily's first punch lands squarely on Emma's upper belly with a resounding "smack." Emma's body jerks, her abs contracting sharply as she tries to brace against the blow. The pain is evident in her eyes, her breath catching in her throat as she struggles to endure the punishment. But Lily doesn't let up, her fist deliberately traveling down the curve of Emma's abs. The next uppercut hammers into her navel with a deep "whump," driving into the soft spot with malice, making her body further convulse and bend over, her abs rippling outwards from the impact zone. Emma feels the last vestiges of fight leaving her body as her breaths come out in half-sobs and strained. And with a sadistic smile, Lily's punches travel even lower, targeting the area just above the British girl’s crotch. The punch lands with a sickening "crunch," causing Emma to cry out in pain. Her legs buckle slightly, her body bending forward as she tries to protect herself from the onslaught to her more sensitive region. Emma's does her best to brace her abdomen, the uppercuts are taking their toll, especially when Lily's fist travels right back up the ridges of her tummy, landing another devastating blow to her navel. The unpredictability of Lily’s strikes means it’s harder for Emma to brace her body, and each punch seems to drive into her core deeper, slowly breaking down her ab wall. Of course, Emma tries to fight back, her hands weakly pushing against Lily's shoulders and arms in a desperate attempt to break free. But her punches are uncoordinated and lack the power to deter the assault, and worse, the effort to fight back only intensifies Lily’s anger, making her throw more punches with more frequency. A final, powerful uppercut lands with a resounding "wham” just above her belly, causing Emma's body to convulse violently and let out a choked cry. Her abs finally give out, the muscles twitching and contracting uncontrollably. Her once-strong ab wall is now visibly broken down, the skin reddened and bruised. Emma is clearly struggling to stay upright, her body weakened by the brutal uppercuts. But Lily ain’t done, her victory assured. With a determined gleam in her eyes, she reaches out and grabs two fistfuls of Emma’s disheveled hair, yanking her dazed head back. Emma’s eyes are filled with pain and defiance, forced to lock onto Lily’s, as the champ steps in, pressing her hips and tummy against her own. Lily leans in close, her breath hot and huffing against her lips. Then, with a mocking smile, the champ presses her lips firmly into Emma’s, the kiss more of a taunt than an affectionate gesture. “Ready to give up, Ems?” Lily whispers, her voice dripping with condescension. Emma can only groan and heave in the hold, still weakly pushing and pulling, trying to struggle free. But she ain’t going nowhere, if Collins can help it. Lily leans in, using her body to not just pin their bodies in place, but deliberately batter Emma's tummy with her own. She uses her hips and body like a battering ram, thrusting in and out, each movement designed to cause maximum discomfort as skin grinds against skin, Lily's taut, muscular stomach, already marked with bruises from the earlier exchanges, pulses inwards after each shocking blow, her abs grind against Emma's own pulsing belly, the two sets of muscles straining against each other in a visceral struggle for dominance. The friction between their sweat-slicked bodies creates a sheen on their skin, highlighting the defined lines and contours of their battered torsos.
Emma's midsection, though bruised and reddened, responds with defiant strength. Her abs, equally defined and resilient, flex and contract in a desperate attempt to brace against this new form of assault. The muscles of her stomach tremble with exertion, each impact from Lily's hips sending shockwaves through her core. Her hands, weak and trembling, try to push Lily’s hips away, but her strength is waning, her resistance faltering. Lily, feeling Emma’s body weaken under her assault, only intensifies her efforts. Each time she pulls back, she gathers momentum, slamming her hips forward with a renewed vigor, making Emma’s body jolt with each thrust, her lips parting upwards in a silent cry of agony. “This is how you’ll break, Ems,” Lily taunts, her voice low and mocking. She leans in even closer, her lips brushing against her ear. “Your tummy submitting to mine.” Overwhelmed and in pain, Emma’s spirit remains unbroken. Somehow, her eyes, though filled with tears, burn with defiance. She may be down this round, but she’s far from out. The turning point comes suddenly. Just as Collins seems to have complete control, pulling back to deliver yet another hip thrust, Emma musters the last of her strength and forces her knee upwards instead, just as Lily’s body comes flying in. Lily's eyes widen in shock, a gasp escaping her lips as the pain registers. Her body jerks violently as the knee connects right between her thighs, her dominance she held a moment ago shattered in an instant, as she loses her balance and falters on the spot. Her grip on Emma's hair loosens, her own hands moving reflexively to her throbbing crotch, as she tries to recover from the pain radiating upwards and into her core.
With a fierce war cry, Watson launches herself forward, regaining her grip on Lily’s hair before unleashing a powerful double punch combo: a swift hook to the chin lands with a resounding "crack," dazing Collins and causing her head to snap to the side. Lily's eyes glaze over, and before she can recover, Emma follows up with another devastating hook to her stomach, her fist driven into her abs and forcing a loud groan from her lips. The champ crumples forward, her body folding over, but Emma's grip on her hair keeps her upright. Suddenly, it’s payback time, and what felt like Emma’s demise turns into a second wind for the challenger. She delivers a series of brutal hooks to each section of Lily's abs. Each punch lands with a resounding "puhh," targeting Lily's battered six-pack with malice, causing Lily's body to convulse, the remaining strength in her abs contracting and trembling. The champion’s in trouble, her wilting form visibly strained, her muscles once taut and now quivering under the barrage. Her breaths come out in short, sharp gasps, each exhale accompanied by a soft whimper of pain. The definition of her abs becomes more pronounced with each punch sinking in, hammering away at the muscle, moving from one section of her torso to the next, ensuring no part of her midsection is spared. Still, Lily occasionally fights back, her fists perhaps on instinct flying outwards, but only weakly striking at Emma's sides. The Brit actress is visibly outworking and outpunching her by a 3-to-1 ratio, her punches sailing in just faster, with far greater frequency and force.
Lily's body begins to bow inward, her strength waning. Her attempts to punch back grow feebler, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Both girls are clearly exhausted by this point, their bodies slick with sweat and battered from this grueling contest. But Emma’s still swinging away, her own punches forced forward but lacking the same punch as before. Another tired fist flies up and packs into the central curve of Lily's tummy, landing with a dull thud and still reverberating through her core. Yet, the challenger’s exhaustion means that after each punch, her fist remains stuck into Lily's body for several seconds, with Emma using it to prop herself up and keep from going down. This brutal tactic not only allows her to regain some of her energy but also maximizes the pain for the poor champion, with the sensation of her rival’s fist penetrating deep into very being, churning her insides, almost unbearable. In these final moments, Lily's reaction is visceral. Her body convulses and shivers with each impact, the remnants of her ab wall tightening instinctively over the invasive fist in a futile attempt to brace against the intrusion, but her breath can only croak, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as Emma's knuckles dig deeper into her flesh. The sweat coating her skin causes Emma's own reddened knuckles to slide over the slick, battered surface of her abs, exacerbating the damage with each movement. Her eyes widen, her mouth opening in a silent cry of agony. Her hands, trembling and weak, actually move down to grasp at Emma’s invasive forearm, trying to pry it from her body. Emma’s voice is low and strained, but there’s a firm smirk that has returned to her face, as she taunts Lily. "You feel that, dear Lils? That's me breaking you in half." Lily's body shudders with each word, the combination of physical and psychological torment taking its toll. Emma's fist, still embedded in her stomach, twists slightly, causing Lily to gasp a final cry, her back arching in a reflexive attempt to escape the pain. The sensation of her insides shifting about is nauseous and unbearable, the pain radiating through her core and sapping what little strength she has left.
Finally, the champ’s body gives out. Lily Collins SLUMPS forward, her legs giving out entirely. Emma’s grip on her hair is the only thing keeping her from collapsing straight to the floor, her breaths shallow and strained, her abs visibly pulsing and bruised and battered as she cradles her tummy and falls. Her broken body begins to slide down Emma’s, her stunned, parted lips trailing the central curve of her pulsating abdomen, leaving a path of warmth against the sweat-slicked skin of her rival. Lily’s lips are soft, white, and trembling, brushing along the taut abs she just pounded out, tracing a line from just below Emma’s chest then snaking all the way down to her navel. Finally, they come to rest and linger over Emma’s pulsing navel, the point of contact becoming a moment of intimate defeat. Watson, standing tall overhead, feels the delicate sensation and breaths hot against her own battered body, trembling from exhaustion, but her moment of triumph keeps her upright. She looks down at Lily with a mixture of hard-won dominance, her eyes burning with the intensity of the moment. And with Lily now kneeling before her, heaving, Emma retains her handful of Lily’s disheveled hair, gently pulling the champ’s head back slightly, ensuring that her lips are more firmly pressed up against her navel. The sensation sends a shiver through Emma, especially when Collins is still struggling to breathe, her lips struggling against the firm flesh. But Emma maintains her grip, using it as a symbol of her dominance, looking down and delivering a harsh whisper. “Stay right there, Lils. And why not get used to the view, huh.”
The referee steps in to begin the count, the crowd holding its breath. Emma, still holding onto Lily’s hair, ensures that her opponent’s lips stay pressed against her navel, despite the champ’s attempts to twist her head away slightly. There’s panic and defeat flashing in her eyes as she groans and the rest of her body trembles, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Every twitch is excruciating, the throbbing pain in her body making even the slightest movement agonizing. Testing her legs and core strength, Lily tries to push herself up, but her limbs betray her. Her muscles are too battered and weak, each attempt sending waves of pain through her torso. The agony is compounded by Emma's firm grip, pressing her lips into her abs, adding a humiliating weight to her struggle. Lily's breaths are short and ragged, her efforts to rise up becoming increasingly futile. The referee’s count continues, his voice echoing through the close confines of the bar. "One… two… three…" Lily’s mind races, a mix of desperation and resignation. She can feel the seconds slipping away, each one a reminder of her dwindling chances. Her body, drenched in sweat and trembling with exertion, is at its limit. The pain radiates from her midsection, from the throbbing of Emma’s punches, making every second a struggle. Her eyes betray a flicker of realization that she might not make it. "Four… five… six…" The count marches on, the crowd silent, watching every twitch and shudder of Lily's body. Above, Emma’s grip remains unyielding, her eyes fixed on Lily's. The connection is more than physical; it's a display of power, a reminder of who stands victorious. Lily's lips, pressed firmly against Emma's navel, move weakly, her breaths choking and gasping for much-needed air, but the added heat from Emma's body makes it even harder to breathe. "Seven… eight…" The urgency in Lily's movements increases, but her body simply refuses to comply. Each attempt to rise is met with overwhelming pain in her midsection, all her muscles screaming in protest. The pressure from Emma's hand, holding her head in place, makes it even harder to muster the strength to get up. Her breaths become more and more frantic, her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. "Nine…" The referee's voice is a hammer of finality, each syllable driving home the reality of her situation. Emma, sensing victory, tightens her grip one last time, pressing Lily's face harder against her abs. "Ten!" The count is finished, and the fight is over! Lily's body finally slumps downwards, almost becoming putty in Emma’s grip, her strength completely spent. She remains on her knees, but her lips slip downwards further, sputtering into her lower belly, her forehead now pressed cold against the new champion’s firm navel. Emma, still holding her up by her hair, maintains her position, allowing the cameras to capture the intimate and brutal moment.
Official Result: Emma Watson defeats Lily Collins via KO7! Emma Watson is the NEW AMD champion!
AFTER:
Emma drags Lily across the bar floor, making her way to a nearby chair. The sound of Lily's knees scraping and squeaking off the wooden floor is almost drowned out by the murmurs and cheers of the crowd. But Emma's grip on Lily's hair remains firm, her face set in a determined expression to cement her win once and for all.
Upon reaching the chair, she roughly deposits Lily down into the seat, allowing her body to slump back, her head lolling back over the backing, as she struggles to retain whatever senses she has left. But Emma wastes no time, swiftly mounting her lap with a sense of hunger and purpose. The intimacy of the position soon becomes apparent to the onlookers, adding another layer of humiliation and complication for the former champ, whose bruised and battered body now groans under the weight of the new.
Her body glistening with sweat and exuding confidence of a conqueror, Emma makes herself snug and comfortable. With a firm grip on Lily's hair, Emma pulls her opponent's head back, forcing her shoulders and neck to croon over the back of the chair, and her eyes to look into her.
The close proximity of the position is so that her firm, toned abs are still perfectly aligned with Lily's face, and as she leans in to embrace her rival, Emma's abs continue to flex and pulse, and as she shifts her weight slightly, Lily's lips again have little choice but to make contact with the contours of her stomach.
Emma, ever the showwoman, decides to tease the crowd and her opponent further. She begins to shake her hips and butt over Lily's lap, her hips moving in a seductive, taunting manner. The motion causes her abs to flex even more, pressing against Lily's lips with each movement.
But Lily has flashes of renewed resistance. Her hands, though weak, try to push Emma’s body away, and her own body tenses as she attempts to regain some semblance of control. However, Emma is prepared for this. Leaning back, she delivers a swift, sharp slap across her fellow Vixen’s face, quickly subduing any attempts at defiance as Lily’s resistance falters in a flash and her body slumps back into her seat.
Then, she resumes her taunting movements, bouncing up and down slightly on Lily's lap with glee, the realization that she’s actually won the AMD title finally coming through. Each bounce makes Lily’s lips further mash against the toned surface of her tummy, Emma's voice low and mocking, and continuing from above, "This is just the beginning, Lily. You're going to kiss these abs you couldn't break."
Emma adjusts her position one last time, making sure her abs are perfectly aligned with Lily's lips. She guides Lily's head with firm grips in her hair, ensuring maximum contact. The warmth of Lily’s breath against her skin sends a shiver through Emma, but she remains focused on her display of dominance.
Emma adjusts her stance, thrusting her hips forward so that her body weight is pressing Lily’s head against the back of the seat rest, and the hard, defined contours of her abdomen contrast starkly with the softness of Lily's puckered lips. Not satisfied, the Brit actress uses her firm grip to prop her chin and face upwards, and as her abs flex and pulse, Lily’s lips have no choice but to spread over the ridges and curves of her tummy. The sensation is akin to Lily being forced to "eat" the very abs that she sought to conquer, her mouth parting further as they trace the valleys and peaks of her rival’s abdomen.
Emma presses in closer, hugging the brunette underneath, her voice low and mocking. "Kiss them, Lily. Kiss the abs that broke you."
With one final, firm press, Emma releases her grip, allowing Lily’s head to slump forward in jugged out exhaustion. Then, she gingerly rises from her perch, one long leg spread out over Lily’s lap, before standing tall and letting Collins slowly slip off the seat and crash down to the floor of the bar, her victory complete and undisputed. The moment will be remembered as a defining act of dominance, a testament to Emma’s unyielding spirit and strength.
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