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29 October 2023 Chrissy Costanza vs Becky G

Page history last edited by neon 4 days, 23 hours ago

FIGHTS AND FRIGHTS PPV EXTENDED CUT

Posted by Queens of Absolution on 28 October 2023 at 1:58 am

October 2023 PPV: Chrissy Costanza vs Becky G (FotB I)

(Results: Lookout / Words: Queens)

Chrissy Costanza:
(27, 5’1”, 107lbs, 1:2 FCBA, Queens of Absolution)

Becky G:
(26, 5’0.5”, 106lbs, 12:16 FCBA, Latina Knockouts)

BEFORE:

Chrissy Costanza, the powerhouse songstress, strutted onto Santa Monica Beach clad in a fierce black bikini bra and panties set. Her compact, athletic figure was on full display, every inch sculpted and strong, her abs rippling with an intimidating definition that made clear, she was not to be underestimated. Her skin, glistening under the Californian sun, was taut over lean muscles, the result of hours spent pushing her body to its limits. Her defined arms, a testament to her strength, looked ready to deal some serious damage. Her legs, strong and sturdy, were poised, ready to spring into action at any moment. In the face of such physical prowess, Becky G must have felt the heat - and it wasn't just from the sun. Chrissy's confident strut, her daring black bikini ensemble, and her impressively toned physique were all sending a powerful, unmissable message - she was a force to be reckoned with in the ring.

In contrast, Becky G stepped onto the scene like a neon dream, her vibrant orange bikini set a stark contrast against her mocha skin and the sandy beach. The punchy color, while a nod to her fiery spirit, didn't do much to mask the nervous flicker in her eyes as she surveyed Chrissy's formidable figure. The top, a halter style, was crafted to afford maximum movement, while the bottoms were cut high, designed to show off her own toned legs and abs. Her gloves, a matching shade of electric orange, bore no signs of wear – a clear reminder of her unfortunate losing streak. As she adjusted her hair, slicked back into a no-nonsense ponytail, the look in her eyes hardened. Even faced with Chrissy's indomitable form, Becky was clearly not about to back down without a fight.

This was the first match for Chrissy in a two-match gauntlet and the songstress had no intentions of losing. She had trained relentlessly, honing her skills and building her strength, all to prove one thing: she was not just a voice to be reckoned with. As the bell rang to signal the start of the match, Chrissy's eyes locked onto Becky's. In that moment, it was clear this was going to be a battle of epic proportions.

Round 01:

The bell tolled, and like a bolt out of blue, Chrissy was off. Launching herself out of her corner with a speed that would make a cheetah jealous, she closed the distance between herself and Becky G in what seemed like a heartbeat. Her legs, pillars of strength, propelled her forward, her feet a blur on the sun-warmed sand. The air was charged, the audience on their feet, their cheers a deafening roar in the background, but all Chrissy could hear was the rush of adrenaline in her ears.

Before Becky G could so much as blink, Chrissy was upon her. Her fists, a blinding flurry of black and blue, landed with a precision that was awe-inspiring. Each punch she threw was a stunning display of her athleticism, her muscles rippling with every move. Her abs, hard as diamonds, seemed to gleam with each hit she landed on Becky G, each blow a testament to her superior power and skill.

Becky G was fast, but Chrissy was faster. The songstress’s fists were a symphony of destruction in high gear, her rhythm unrelenting. She focused her onslaught on Becky G's midriff, each punch sinking into her stomach like a lead weight. Becky's face twisted in pain, her breath hitching as Chrissy's fists found their mark time and again. The cruel onslaught had the desired effect - Becky G looked decidedly green, her hands flying to her stomach as if to shield herself from the inevitable.

But Chrissy was far from done. With a swift pivot on the balls of her feet, she swung an uppercut that connected with Becky G's jaw. The brutal impact sent a shockwave coursing through Becky’s frame, her head snapping back with the force. A thin trail of blood dribbled from her mouth, a stark red against her mocha skin. The crowd gasped, the collective intake of breath a harsh whine over the relentless crashing of the waves.
In a display of sheer grit, Becky G found her footing and retaliated. Her fists, wrapped in neon orange, drove into Chrissy's taut stomach. But the Songstress seemed barely affected, her abs absorbing the blows like a well-strung guitar absorbing the strums of a maestro. She didn't flinch, didn't falter, her feet steady in the sand, her eyes flashing with the thrill of the fight.

Chrissy was a force of nature, relentless and unyielding. She was like a storm, all power and fury, her punches crashing down on Becky G like waves on a rocky shore. Like the sea, she was unending, her energy undiminished even as the seconds on the clock ticked away. Becky G's attempts to fight back were admirable, but they were no match for Chrissy's indomitable spirit.

As the bell rang out, signaling the end of the round, Chrissy's body was a testament to her absolute dominance in the ring. Her abs, slick with a sheen of sweat, were even more defined, each muscle standing in stark relief against her sun-kissed skin. Her arms, still held in a fighter's stance, were hard as steel, the veins visible against her skin, a testament to the relentless power they'd displayed. The fierce look in her eyes had only intensified, her determination evident for all to see. She was ready for whatever came next.

The crowd erupted into wild applause as Chrissy returned to her corner. The first round had been a spectacle of her raw power and athleticism, her victory undeniable. Her face, hardened by the fight, was as beautiful as ever, her eyes twinkling with a fierce light. One round down, one to go, and Chrissy Costanza, the Songstress, was just getting warmed up.

Round 02:

The bell rang, marking the commencement of Round Two, and the atmosphere was electrified. Becky G, taking inspiration from Chrissy's earlier onslaught, came out swinging. With a sudden burst of energy, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she charged at Chrissy, fists at the ready. Her neon gloves, now marred with a few specks of blood, were a blur as they launched into a barrage of punches aimed squarely at Chrissy's chiseled abs. Each jab was a vivid stab of orange against Chrissy's sun-kissed skin, each hit making the Songstress wince in pain.

But Chrissy was not one to back down. She retaliated, her fists pounding into Becky G's already bloodied face. The hits were brutal, unyielding, yet Becky G held her ground. Every hammer blow seemed to fuel her fervor further; the blood streaking down her face acting as a warpaint, amplifying her fervorous spirit.

Though Becky G's punches lacked the raw force of Chrissy's, they were not without merit. She targeted the same spots on Chrissy's body over and over, her rapid-fire punches weakening Chrissy's defense. The Songstress grunted and groaned with each hit, her grimace a stark contrast to the determined look in Becky's eyes.

Becky G was in control this round. She moved with purpose, her actions strategic and precise. Chrissy's abs, once a beacon of her strength, now served as a target for Becky's relentless attack. Becky G was finally breaking through the fortress, forcing Chrissy to retreat and regroup.

The grimace on Chrissy's face did not go unnoticed by the crowd. The tide was turning, and the audience, once roaring in favor of the Songstress, now cheered for Becky G. The underdog was finally having her moment.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the round, Becky G stood tall. Despite the blood staining her face, there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes. She had won this round on points wide, a significant turn of events that left the crowd on the edge of their seats. Chrissy may still be standing, but Becky G was the one owning the ring.

Round 03:

Round Three began with a blast of the bell, echoing across the sands of Santa Monica Beach. Chrissy, though winded from the previous round, was on her feet and ready for the fight, her fists clenched and her gaze steady. Becky G, on the other hand, was riding high on the wave of her previous victory, her eyes ablaze with determination.

From the first second, it was clear that Becky G was not here to play. She launched herself at Chrissy, her fists a flurry of neon orange. Chrissy tried to retaliate, but Becky G's speed was unprecedented. Her punches kept coming, each one aimed at Chrissy's rock-hard abs, each one a calculated strike designed to chip away at Chrissy's defenses. The crowd gasped collectively, their attention riveted on the brutal onslaught.

The hits kept coming, each one sinking into Chrissy's abs with a thud that resounded across the beach. Chrissy winced each time, pain flashing across her face. But she held her ground, her resolve unwavering. She tried to fight back, her punches aimed at Becky G's face, but Becky was too fast. She dodged each blow with ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

As the seconds ticked away, it was clear that Becky G had the upper hand. The onslaught continued, her fists sinking deeper and deeper into Chrissy's chiseled abs. Chrissy gasped for breath, her body sagging under the relentless attack. But she refused to go down, her spirit indomitable.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the round, Becky G was the uncontested victor. She had taken the Songstress by surprise once more, her fists sinking into Chrissy's hard abs with a precision that left the crowd breathless. Chrissy may still have been standing, but Becky G was the one who owned the beach at that moment.

Round 04:

Round Four started with a bang just as the bell echoed across Santa Monica Beach. Becky G, still riding high on the wave of her previous victories, lunged at the Songstress, her fists flying. But in a stunning twist, Chrissy caught her incoming fist mid-air, effectively bringing Becky's charge to a halt. This unexpected maneuver had the crowd gasping in surprise, their cheers loud in the cool beach air.

Becky struggled, her face a mask of surprise as she tried to wrench her trapped hand free from Chrissy's vice-like grip. It was akin to Emily VanCamps' struggle against Natasha Calis, the taller woman proving an unexpected challenge. Chrissy's bicep bulged under the strain, the veins visible against her sun-kissed skin. Her eyes were fixed on Becky, a determined glint in them that had been missing in the previous round.

However, the referee was closing in, and Chrissy knew she had to act. With a swift movement, she let go of Becky's trapped fist and swung her other one right at Becky's face. The crowd roared, their cheers a deafening backdrop to the brutal action unfolding in the ring.

Throughout the round, Chrissy and Becky were almost neck-in-neck, each woman matching the other hit for hit. But Chrissy was no longer holding back. Her attacks were forceful, her punches carrying an intensity that had Becky reeling. Each hit landed with a resounding thud, the impact visible on Becky's face, leaving a trail of blood and bruises in its wake.

Becky fought back valiantly, her fists a flurry of neon orange. But Chrissy's assaults were relentless, her strength and determination apparent in every blow she landed. As the bell rang out, signaling the end of the round, it was clear that Chrissy had won this close round on points, marking a significant comeback. Becky G was still standing, but Chrissy Costanza, the Songstress, was back in the game.

Round 05:

Round Five burst into action with the piercing toll of the bell, and Chrissy "The Songstress" Costanza exploded out of her corner like a hurricane. She was a typhoon of muscle and sinew, her compact frame seeming to expand with the raw power radiating from her. She was a Spartan Queen, a titan in the guise of a songstress, ready to bring the storm to Santa Monica Beach.

Becky G braced herself, but nothing could've prepared her for the onslaught. Chrissy's fists were like sledgehammers, battering at the gates of Becky's defenses. Each hit was a symphony of pain and power, a testament to Chrissy's iron will and unyielding strength. Becky G's gut was the anvil on which Chrissy forged her victory, each punch sending waves of nausea through the pop singer.

And then came the uppercuts. Swift and brutal, they were the exclamation points to Chrissy's furious sentence, a final statement of dominance. They cracked against Becky's jaw with the force of a freight train, sending shockwaves through the crowd. Becky G's knees buckled, but she stayed upright, anchored by sheer willpower.

But Chrissy was not done. Just as Becky G thought she could take no more, the Songstress switched her focus to the ribs. The crowd could practically hear the air being sucked from Becky's lungs with each hit, each punch another testament to the relentless brutality of Chrissy's assault. Her muscles flexed and strained, bulging under the strain of her attacks, and the crowd was left in awe of the raw strength on display.

As the seconds ticked away, Chrissy was relentless, a juggernaut of power and purpose. It was clear she was looking for a knockout, her eyes blazing with a fiery determination. She hammered at Becky, each punch a clarion call of her supremacy. But time was not on her side, the bell ringing out just as Chrissy was about to deliver what could have been the final blow.

Round Five ended with the Songstress standing tall, her victory absolute. Despite the bell, Chrissy had won the round on points by a wide margin, making Becky G regret ever stepping on the beach with her. The Songstress had shown her true strength, and the beach was her stage. The round may have ended, but the battle was far from over. Chrissy Costanza, the Songstress, was in control.

Round 06:

Round Six exploded into action, and just as Chrissy "The Songstress" Costanza was preparing to advance, Becky G, with a sudden burst of energy, landed a decisive blow. The crowd fell deadly silent as her fist collided with Chrissy's rock-hard abs, pushing in on her liver. The sheer force of it forced the Songstress onto all fours in the sand, a shocking spectacle for all watching.

Becky G, with a defiant glint in her eyes, retreated to a neutral corner as the referee rushed in to intervene. He began the countdown, his voice echoing through the stunned silence of Santa Monica beach. One...Two...Three... The count went on, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Chrissy, known for her unwavering strength, lay there, her hand cradling her aching abs, her face a grimace of pain. Four...Five...Six... Her body heaved, trying to push through the pain. But it was clear she was winded, the brutal blow leaving her winded and sick to her stomach.

Seven...Eight...Nine... The crowd held their breath, their cheers a distant echo. The Songstress, the titan in the guise of a songstress, was down. Ten. The final count echoed across the beach, ringing the death knell of the round.

Becky G, against all odds, had won the first gauntlet match by knockdown. The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a deafening roar in the night. The pop singer stood tall, a victorious contender amidst the swirling sand and crashing waves. The round had ended in an unexpected turn of events, leaving everyone in suspense of what was to come next in this brutal boxing saga.

Official Decision: Becky G defeats Chrissy Costanza via KO 6!

AFTER:

The bell had rung, sealing the fate of the sixth round and leaving Becky G standing tall in her corner, the taste of victory sweet on her lips. She took a moment, her eyes closed as she soaked in the triumph, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. The crowd was a wall of sound, their cheers washing over her, fueling her adrenaline. With a final nod, she turned, her neon gloves catching the moonlight as she exited the ring, a victorious gladiator leaving the battlefield.

On the other side of the ring, Chrissy Costanza, the Songstress, was a sight of raw determination and iron will. With shaky hands, she cradled her abs, protecting the epicenter of her pain. Her muscles, once a testament to her strength, now screamed in protest, the pain radiating from her core to every fiber of her being. Her bikini, drenched in sweat, clung to her taut, aching body, emphasizing the muscle definition that was a testament to countless hours of training and discipline. Every breath she took was a struggle, a visual reminder of the brutal blow she had endured to her abs.

Yet, amidst the pain, there was no hint of surrender in her eyes. She was a warrior, her spirit as unyielding as her muscular physique. Slowly, she rose to her feet, each movement a battle fought and won. With one hand still protectively cradled against her abs, she made her way to her corner, her eyes never leaving the ring. Chrissy Costanza, the Songstress, was down but not out, her body aches and bruised, but her spirit unbroken, ready to face the next onslaught in the gauntlet.